For the first time in her life, Lacey was alone. No comfort of familiarity in her parents’ home, no June, no Brooke. She was forced to reckon with the reality that she was fully responsible for her entire life now. She sat up in bed trying to make sense of the utility bills she left on her night stand. Everything she read felt foreign but she managed to figure it out with time and patience.

Routine proved to be the biggest saving grace for Lacey. It gave her the stability she needed so she wouldn’t get lost in her thoughts and could focus on affording life in New York City. A maze of bills forced her to keep moving. Life remained overwhelming even though her sister had paid off the condo.

Some nights, as she’d wash a single mug or fold her sheets with aching precision; the loneliness curled around her ankles like a cold draft. She’d reminded herself to breathe in the scent of clean linen or the lingering traces of her coffee in the morning. Gratitude took up adequate space inside her chest to fight off the gloom. Existing without her closest people was challenging. A quiet ache kept her awake, but she was determined to make do. She had made her dream of leaving her parents’ home a reality, and the view of the city lights through her window, was enough to be thankful for.

Tonight was a bar night. It was her favorite shift because she got to be with her coworkers and talk to the patrons. As soon as she walked in, the hum of voices and laughter wrapped her up, mixed with the clink of glasses and the steady thud of music that pulsed from the speakers. The smell of citrus and spilled beer drifted from the counter, cut by the sharp tang of lime wedges and the faint trace of someone’s perfume lingering in the air.

Warm light glinted off polished bottles lining the service area. Regulars greeted her with easy grins, transforming the lively haven into her temporary sanctuary. Lacking social interaction to the extent that she did made these shifts extra special because it reminded her she wasn’t as lonely as she felt. These people looked forward to seeing her as she did them.

“LACE FACE!” Cole yelled, happy to see her as she came into the bar. Her shift was starting before the evening rush to help set up for the DJ they were hosting.

“Coley-O!” she replied in a matched tone. The two hugged as she approached.

“Where are we attacking first?” She asked about the setup.

“Stock the bar. Overstock it if you have to. We’re expecting a massive crowd,” he told her, his Philadelphia accent showed through his exuberance.

Lacey smiled at how excited he was. The bar’s reach grew across the neighborhood, even extending to other boroughs. She felt proud to be a part of it.

The next hour had them all working like bees in a hive. Everyone had a job, and each person completed it to the best of their ability before the crowd arrived. The bar filled quickly as the DJ’s bass reverberated off the walls. People laughed, danced, and packed the place. Everything ran smoothly until the glow of her phone shone from underneath the bar.

Brooke Hart flashed across the screen.

Lacey’s heart sank. What could she want? They hadn’t spoken in a month.

Hitting the ignore button, she continued serving drinks to the paying customers. Tonight was a big deal for the business, and she prioritized the shared success.

The phone rang once more, displaying the same name. Brooke’s unusual calls intensified her anxiety.

Cole noticed her shift in mood and checked in. “Are you good?”

“My ex, she doesn’t call twice. I’m going to ring her back,” Lacey replied. The two exchanged an understanding nod before she took off through the crowd to a quieter area outside.

The familiar voice on the other end sounded panicked.

“I’m in labor,” Brooke blurted out. Her tone was frantic.

“Labor?! Where’s Reuben?” Lacey inquired. The last thing she wanted was to run into him again. When they spoke at the bar, it was less than pleasant and she didn’t want a repeat especially tonight.

“I-I don’t know. Can you just come? I’m going to Lennox Hill,” she begged.

Lacey ran her hand through her hair; she paced in front of the building. Her breath was quick and uneven. Part of her brain clung to the duties inside, the sense of responsibility to her coworkers and the bar’s success tonight. She had worked hard to prove she was reliable, and tonight mattered.

But underneath, her heart twisted with worry for Brooke. Memories rose—laughter and arguments, the warmth of Brooke’s hand in hers, the ache of the past month’s silence.

Did she owe this to Brooke, or to herself? Was she running towards trouble, or refusing to abandon a person who once felt like home?

The guilt made her sick, torn between loyalty to the people who counted on her and the raw fear in Brooke’s voice over the phone. All she knew was that she couldn’t ignore someone she still loved, not when it mattered most.

“Hello? Please come. He’s gone. I haven’t spoken to him in two weeks. We fought.” A contraction cut her off, and she cried out in pain.

Brooke’s scream erased any hesitation.

“I’m on my way.”

Editor: Lucy Cafiero