Chapter 17
The corners of my journal, which I had tucked into my purse, pressed on my ribs as I sank further into my seat. I had developed this new habit since splitting with Liam as a means of sorting out the jumble of conflicting feelings inside of me.
I felt like I was in charge of my story for the first time in years.
The village I selected was so little that it hardly appeared on maps, tucked up in the foothills. Everyone knew each other’s names in the main street, which was lined with stores and cafés. My new residence was a small cottage on the outskirts of town, encircled by tall pines that rustled in
the wind
It was flawless.
I stood on the porch that first night, feeling the cool mountain air envelop me like a blanket. The stars above shone more brilliantly than I had ever seen, their brightness piercing the night. I closed my eyes and inhaled the smell of damp dirt and pine
This was the sensation of liberation.
I developed a regimen over the course of the following few weeks. My lungs filled with the fresh, clean air as I hiked the paths close to the cabin in the mornings. I spent the afternoons writing,
reading, and gradually unpacking the two suitcases that contained my existence.
As if I could leave my thoughts on paper and not think about them the next day, I spent my
evenings writing in my journal.
My initial entries were frank and disorganized, a mix of regret, despair, and rage.
“Why didn’t I notice the warning signs sooner? Why did I allow him to harm me in this way?
However, the tone of my work started to change as the days stretched into weeks. The inquiries shifted from being accusatory to being more reflective.
“What did remaining with him cost me? Now that I’m alone, what can I gain?
I was sitting by the side of a creek that ran close to the cabin one afternoon. The water’s soft rush filled the quiet as it glistened in the sunlight. The pages of my journal fluttered in the wind as it lay on my lap.
After flipping to a blank page, I hesitated for a second before writing.
My writing was, “Dear Nora.”
I had the weird feeling that I was writing to someone else. But as I went on, I understood that was the main idea.
“You’re still standing after going through hell. You should be proud of that. Even though the
person you devoted your heart to didn’t deserve it, it was still worthwhile. It indicates that you possess the ability to love sincerely, which is a strength rather than a problem.
The
pen hovered over the page as my hand hesitated. I was grounded when the creek’s sound
invaded the quiet.
“This is your opportunity to make a fresh start to discover your identity independently of others.
You don’t need to be flawless. You simply must be yourself.
I put down the pen and gazed at the words until they became hazy. I felt a glimmer of hope for the
first time in a long time.
Sitting by the fire that night, I reflected on all the incarnations of myself that I had left behind.
The girl who thought fairy tales had happy endings The woman who put someone else’s
happiness ahead of her own. When she should have left, the partner stayed.
Now, every one of those variants seemed unfamiliar
I grabbed my journal and turned to the page where had begun to write my objectives. It was a brief list, but it had purpose.
Discover how to be content by yourself.
Rekindle my passion.
Give up apologizing for occupying space.
With the weight of those statements bearing down on me, I emphasized the third goal. Depending on his mood, Liam had always made me feel either too much or not enough. But I felt perfectly at
home in this hut, surrounded by nothing but the natural world.
I made the decision to stroll into town the following morning. The Main Street bakery, with its shelves brimming with freshly baked goods and pastries that filled the air with their comforting perfume, swiftly rose to the top of my list of favorite places.
As I entered, the baker replied, “Good morning, Nora.” She was one of the first persons I met after moving here, and her name was Margaret.
“Good morning.” I smiled in response.
She gave me a parchment paper–wrapped croissant. The house has this one. You’ve been appearing more radiant lately. More content.
Startled by her observation, I blinked. “I’m grateful I suppose I have been.
“Good,” she murmured, smiling warmly at me. “You’re worthy.”
As I walked back to the cabin with the croissant still warm in my hands, her comments stuck
with me.
Birdsong filled the air as I sat on the porch that afternoon, writing in my journal. I reflected on Margaret’s remark and my progress since splitting from Liam.
I still missed him, but it was the version of him that I had fallen in love with, not the guy he had changed into. The Liam who used to make me laugh until my sides ached and who used to bring me coffee in bed.
However, that Liam was a fake. Or if he was, I had not noticed him for a long time.
I took out my journal and jotted down the idea before it vanished.
“I don’t want him back just because I’m missing him. It proves that I am a human
I carried the journal with me as I made my way back to the creek as the sun started to drop. The
tranquil river reflected the orange and pink tones of the sky.
I turned to a blank page and sat on the rocks, the cool surface grounding me.
I wrote about the future this time.
“It’s okay that I have no idea what will happen next I’m not terrified of the unknown for the first time. I’m interested in it. Even excited. I’m coming to realize that I can complete myself without the help of others
I felt cold as I finished the entry, but it wasn’t the air; rather, it was an unidentified sensation. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as I glanced around.
It was too quiet in the woods, like though they were holding their breath.
I got up and gripped my diary. I no longer felt the calm I had only seconds before; instead, there was an uncomfortable strain.
Then I noticed it–a distant figure standing just beyond the trees.
As I stepped back, my head racing, my heart jumped into my throat.
They were watching, whomever it was.
They weren’t moving either.
