𝐘/𝐍'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

Admittedly, I was nervous for what I was about to do. Scarlett had reached out to me, she wanted to meet.

I was reluctant but of course, Dylan and Anna, mainly Dylan, didn't shy away from getting me to agree to meet with her.

It's only been a couple of weeks since all the dust started to settle. I gave myself time to mope around but, I knew I had to get back up at some point.

Madelyn seemed to be back to herself a little bit, she was making public appearances again, going out, she even confirmed to some press that she and I are great friends which, honestly, is a work in progress. I think we both need our space like she suggested before.

The café Scarlett picked was small and tucked away, the kind of place you wouldn't stumble across unless you were looking for it. There was only an old couple in here besides us.

The windows were fogged from the chill outside, and a soft hum of conversation filled the air. My stomach churned as I stepped through the door, the smell of freshly brewed coffee doing little to calm my nerves.

Scarlett was already seated at a corner table, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug.

She looked up the moment the bell above the door jingled, her eyes meeting mine. For a brief second, something unspoken passed between us—familiar but heavy, like a weight neither of us wanted to acknowledge.

"Hey," she greeted softly when I reached the table, standing just long enough to pull my chair out for me.

"Hi," I replied, settling into the seat. "Nice place."

She smiled faintly, sitting back down. "Figured somewhere quiet would be best."

I nodded, my hands fidgeting with the strap of my bag. The silence stretched for a beat too long before Scarlett spoke again.

"Thanks for coming," she said, her voice steady but laced with something I couldn't quite place—maybe vulnerability. "I wasn't sure if you would."

"Honestly, neither was I," I admitted, my gaze dropping to the table. "But... here I am."

She gave a small nod, her fingers tightening around her mug. "Y/n, I wanted to see you because—I owe you an apology. For everything."

"Where do you want to start?" I asked, my tone sharper than intended.

She flinched slightly but didn't shy away. "I deserve that. And I know I've given you every reason not to trust me, but I need you to know... I'm sorry. For how I handled things back then. For running away. For all of it."

I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms. "You didn't just run, Scarlett. You burned everything down on your way out. And then you came back, acting like nothing happened. Like we could just—pick up where we left off."

Her face fell, guilt flashing in her eyes. "I know. I was selfish. I didn't think about how it would affect you because I was too busy trying to protect myself."

"Protect yourself from what?" I pressed, my voice rising slightly. "From me? From whatever we had?"

She shook her head, her voice trembling. "From everything. From getting hurt. From feeling like I wasn't enough. From falling too hard, too fast, and not knowing how to handle it."

I blinked, her words catching me off guard. "You didn't think you were enough?"

"Y/n," she said softly, her gaze locking onto mine. "You were the only thing I ever felt certain about. And that scared the hell out of me."

Her admission left me speechless for a moment, the weight of her words settling over me like a blanket I didn't know I needed. I took a deep breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me.

"I don't know what to say to that," I finally admitted. "You hurt me, Scarlett. More than I think you realize. And now, after everything with Madelyn..."

Her face tightened at the mention of Madelyn, but she didn't interrupt. I continued, my voice softer now. "I'm not sure I can trust you again. Not like before."

"I don't expect you to," she said quickly. "But I'm here, Y/n. And I'm not going anywhere this time. I just—I want a chance to show you that I've changed. That I'm trying to be better. Not just for you, but for myself."

Her sincerity was written all over her face, and for the first time in a long time, I believed her. But belief didn't erase the scars she left behind, and I wasn't ready to ignore them.

"I don't know if I can do this," I said quietly, my hands gripping the edge of the table.

The café was too quiet. Or maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was just me, hyper-aware of the sound of Scarlett breathing across from me, of the faint clink of her mug as she set it down.

Her apology was still hanging in the air, her words sinking in slowly, like drops of water on parched soil.

But it wasn't enough to quench the fire of everything that had built up inside me—the anger, the confusion, the hurt.

"Y/n?" she prompted gently, her voice pulling me back to the moment.

I exhaled sharply, setting my coffee down with more force than intended. "You say you're sorry. You say you've changed. But, Scarlett... how am I supposed to believe that? How am I supposed to trust that this time is different?"

She flinched, and I hated the tiny pang of guilt that surged through me. But it wasn't enough to stop me.

"You didn't just hurt me, Scarlett. You left me." My voice wavered, but I pushed on. "And then you came back into my life like nothing had happened. Like you could just—snap your fingers, and we'd be fine."

Scarlett looked down, her fingers curling around the edge of the table. "I know. I know I can't just expect you to forgive me, and I don't. But I need you to know that I'm not the same person I was back then. I'm trying to be better. For you."

Her words hit me like a tidal wave, washing over the delicate walls I'd built around myself. "You keep saying that," I said, my tone softer now. "But do you even know what you're asking for? What it would mean for me to trust you again?"

Scarlett's eyes met mine, raw and unguarded. "I know I'm asking for a lot. And I know I don't deserve it—not yet. But I want to earn it. I want to earn you, Y/n."

Her voice cracked on my name, and something in my chest twisted painfully. I looked away, my hands tightening into fists in my lap.

"Madelyn," I said quietly.

Scarlett stiffened, but she didn't interrupt.

"She said something before she left," I continued, my voice barely above a whisper. "She said she thought maybe I didn't even realize it, but you still had a hold on me."

Scarlett inhaled sharply, her fingers twitching as if she wanted to reach for me but stopped herself.

"And the thing is... I don't know if she's wrong," I admitted, my throat tightening.

"Part of me feels like she is. Like I moved on, and what I had with you was over. But then you show up, and all these feelings—" I broke off, shaking my head. "It's like I can't escape you, Scarlett."

She leaned forward slightly, her voice low but steady. "Maybe you're not supposed to escape me."

I shot her a look, my frustration bubbling to the surface. "Don't do that. Don't turn this into some kind of fate thing. This isn't a rom-com, Scarlett. This is real life. And real life is messy. People get hurt. And right now, I feel like I'm stabbing Madelyn in the back just by sitting here with you."

Her expression softened, and she reached across the table, her fingers brushing mine. "Y/n, I'm not trying to minimize what you're feeling. I know this is messy. I know I've made it messy. But I also know that we can't keep pretending like there's nothing here."

I stared at her, my heart pounding. "And what if I don't want there to be something here? What if I just want to move on?"

Scarlett's hand withdrew slowly, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Then I'll respect that. But can you honestly look me in the eye and say you don't feel anything for me anymore?"

Her question hung in the air like a challenge, and I hated how my silence felt like an answer.

"I don't know," I said finally, my voice breaking. "I don't know what I feel, Scarlett. All I know is that I'm tired. I'm tired of being caught between the past and the present. I'm tired of hurting people I care about. And I'm tired of feeling like I don't even know myself anymore."

Her face softened, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Y/n, I don't want to be the reason you feel that way. And I don't want to hurt you anymore. But I also don't want to lie to you—or to myself—about how I feel."

She hesitated, her gaze locking onto mine. "I love you."

The words landed like a bomb, and I felt my chest tighten. I wanted to yell at her, to tell her that she had no right to say that now. But part of me—a small, treacherous part—wanted to hear it again.

"You don't get to just say that and expect me to fall into your arms, Scarlett," I said, my voice trembling.

"I'm not expecting that, you don't even have to say it back," she said softly. "But I couldn't sit here and pretend like I didn't feel it. Not anymore."

The vulnerability in her voice broke something in me, and I let out a shaky breath. "I need time," I said, the words feeling like a lifeline I was clinging to. "I can't just... dive into this. Not after everything."

Scarlett nodded, her expression unreadable. "Take all the time you need. I'll be here. For as long as it takes."

Her words echoed in my mind as we sat there, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on both of us. And for the first time, I wasn't sure if I was more afraid of her leaving again—or of her staying.

.  .  .

Dylan was sprawled on my couch, one leg draped over the armrest and the other hanging off the edge as he scrolled through his phone.

I was in the kitchen, pretending to focus on organizing a cabinet, but my mind kept drifting back to Scarlett's texts.

"So," Dylan said, his voice teasing. "Big plans tonight?"

I grabbed a random mug and turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. "What makes you think I have plans?"

He smirked, not looking up from his screen. "Because you've been cleaning that same cabinet for twenty minutes. You're nervous about something."

"I'm not nervous," I said defensively, setting the mug down.

He finally looked up, giving me an exaggerated once-over. "Right. And I'm not ridiculously good-looking."

"You're not."

"Hey!" he said, sitting up dramatically. "Uncalled for. I'm here being a supportive best friend, and this is the thanks I get?"

I rolled my eyes, leaning against the counter. "What exactly are you supporting right now? Scrolling Instagram while eating all my snacks?"

"First of all," he said, holding up a half-empty bag of chips, "these are community snacks. And second, I'm providing emotional support by just being here. You're welcome."

I couldn't help but laugh, shaking my head. "You're ridiculous."

"Ridiculously amazing," he shot back, popping another chip into his mouth. "But seriously, what's up? You've got that look."

"What look?"

"The 'I'm overthinking every single decision in my life' look." He tilted his head, studying me. "Scarlett?"

I sighed, crossing my arms. "We're supposed to meet tonight."

His eyebrows shot up. "Oh, this is getting good. Go on."

"There's not much to say," I muttered. "We're just... trying to talk things out."

Dylan leaned forward, his interest piqued. "Bro, why are you just now telling me this? That's a good thing."

"It's not a big deal," I said quickly, though my stomach twisted at the thought. "I mean, it's not like this means we're... whatever. It's just a hang out."

He gave me a pointed look. "That just seems like code for, "We're going to get naked and fuck all around the house""

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. "Why did I even tell you about this?"

"Because I'm amazing, and you need me," he said smugly. Then his tone softened. "Hey, if you're not ready, just reschedule. Scarlett will understand."

Before I could respond, my phone buzzed on the counter. Dylan grabbed it before I could, his eyes lighting up. "Ooh, speak of the devil."

"Dylan—"

Too late. He read the message aloud, doing an exaggerated Scarlett impression. "Small hiccup—my nanny just called. She's sick, so she can't come tonight. We can reschedule if it's too much, or you can come over anyway. Totally up to you."

I snatched the phone from his hand, glaring at him. "You're the worst."

"And yet, here I am, helping you figure out your life," he said with a grin. "So? What are you going to say?"

I typed out a quick response, my thumbs hovering over the keyboard as I debated.

Y/N Evans 🤫:
Is this your way of telling me you're bribing the kids with TV?

Her response came almost immediately.

Scarlett Johansson 🫠:
Absolutely not. It's called creative parenting. Big difference 🙂‍↔️

I smiled despite myself, and Dylan leaned over, trying to read over my shoulder. "Oh, she's good. Creative parenting, huh? Is that what they're calling it these days?"

"Shut up," I muttered, nudging him away.

Y/N Evans 🤫:
Sounds a lot like "I caved, and now Cosmo knows more about penguins than any five-year-old should."

Scarlett Johansson 🫠:
Hey, penguins are fascinating. Did you know they can swim up to 22 miles per hour?

I laughed softly, shaking my head.

Y/N Evans 🤫:

Scarlett Johansson 🫠:
Nope. I'm a walking encyclopedia. You're lucky to know me.

"Wow," Dylan said, feigning awe. "She's laying it on thick."

Y/N Evans 🤫:
Sure, Wikipedia Johansson. Anyway, I'll still come over. It's fine.

Scarlett Johansson 🫠:
Really? You're sure?

Y/N Evans 🤫:
Yeah. Worst case, I bribe the kids with penguin facts and snacks. They'll be asleep in no time.

Scarlett Johansson 🫠:
Deal. But if Cosmo tries to rope you into watching Planet Earth, I'm not responsible.

Y/N Evans 🤫:
See you soon.

I set the phone down, feeling a strange mix of nerves and anticipation.

"So?" Dylan prompted. "What's the verdict?"

"I'm going."

"Atta girl." He gave me a thumbs-up before leaning back against the couch. "Now go get ready. First impressions are everything, and you don't want to look like a slob in front of her kids."

"It's not my first time meeting them," I said as I headed to my bedroom. "Doesn't matter, especially if you're trying to get some pu—" Dylan began before I threw something at him as he laughed, smugly.

I rolled my eyes and headed into my room anyway, Dylan's teasing voice following me down the hall.

.  .  .

𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

The soft buzz of the city outside was a comforting background as Y/n stepped into the living room, her presence filling the space in a way that made it feel warmer, brighter.

She was dressed casually, her hair slightly tousled like she'd just run her hands through it—a habit I knew all too well. And yet, she still managed to look effortlessly put together.

I stood up from the couch, instinctively stepping closer to her. Her eyes met mine, a small smile tugging at her lips. Without hesitation, she opened her arms, and I didn't think twice before stepping into them.

The hug was warm and grounding, her familiar scent wrapping around me as her arms circled my waist.

For a moment, I allowed myself to close my eyes and just feel—her steady presence, the quiet comfort she brought, the way her hand rested gently on my back.

"It's good to see you," she murmured softly, her voice low enough that only I could hear.

I pulled back just enough to look at her, my hands lingering on her arms. "You too," I said, my smile genuine but slightly laced with nerves.

Before either of us could say more, Cosmo's excited voice broke through the moment, snapping us back to the present.

"Y/n!" he yelled, bounding toward her with the energy only a five-year-old could have.

Y/n laughed, stepping away from me to crouch down and catch Cosmo as he all but launched himself at her. "Hey there, buddy! What's got you so excited?"

I stayed in place for a second, my arms still tingling from the hug, before I moved to lean against the doorway, watching as Y/n effortlessly shifted her focus to the kids.

My chest tightened, but it wasn't with regret. It was something softer, something I didn't quite have a name for yet.

Rose, perched on the couch with her phone in hand, looked up with a smirk. "He's been waiting all day to show you his 'Penguin Rescue' game."

Cosmo nodded enthusiastically, holding the stuffed penguin up like it was some kind of sacred artifact. "You have to save the penguins from the ice storm!"

Y/n blinked, clearly trying to suppress a laugh. "The ice storm? Sounds serious."

"It is!" Cosmo said earnestly, his little brows furrowing in concentration. "The penguins are stuck, and we need to rescue them before the storm gets worse!"

I stood off to the side, leaning against the doorway with my arms crossed, watching the scene unfold. Y/n's face softened as she gave Cosmo her full attention, nodding along as he explained the intricacies of his game with the gravity of a NASA mission briefing.

She had this way about her, this natural ease with kids that I found... captivating. I watched as she reached for one of the other stuffed penguins, holding it carefully as though it were a real, living creature.

"So, Commander Cosmo," she said, her tone mock-serious. "What's the game plan?"

"First, we have to get them to the snow cave!" Cosmo declared, pointing dramatically at the corner of the room where a makeshift fort of pillows and blankets sat.

Y/n nodded gravely. "Got it. Lead the way, Commander."

For the next hour, I stayed on the sidelines, watching as Y/n threw herself wholeheartedly into Cosmo's world.

She crawled on the floor, dodged invisible snowballs, and let out exaggerated gasps whenever a penguin was in "danger."

Rose eventually joined in, though her involvement was more sarcastic commentary than active participation. "Cosmo, penguins don't even live in the Arctic," she pointed out at one point, rolling her eyes.

"They can if we save them!" Cosmo shot back, glaring at her.

Y/n chuckled, shaking her head. "Alright, team, focus. The penguins need us."

Her voice was light, playful, but it carried a warmth that made my chest tighten. I'd seen her in a lot of different contexts—confident, sharp, guarded. But this?

This was different. She was completely at ease, her laughter filling the room in a way that made everything else fade into the background.

"Are you just going to stand there all night?" Rose's voice cut through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present.

I blinked, realizing I'd been caught staring. "Someone has to supervise the operation," I said smoothly, earning a knowing look from her.

Y/n glanced over her shoulder at me, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "Scarlett, are you too scared to join the rescue mission?"

"Scared? Of what?" I asked, feigning offense.

"Of getting caught in the ice storm, obviously," she teased, her eyes sparkling.

"Please," I said, crossing my arms. "I could handle an ice storm