Chapter Twenty-Nine
Annabelle held it together until she heard the latch click.
Then she crumbled.
She made it to the sofa before her knees gave out, folding onto the cushions as the first sob tore through her chest. It hurt. God, it hurt worse than anything she could have imagined, this horrible crushing weight that made it impossible to breathe properly.
She'd known this would happen.
She'd known it.
From the moment Raven had kissed her back that first time, from the moment she'd let herself hope, she'd known it would end like this. People like Raven didn't stay for people like Annabelle. They moved on. They left.
And Annabelle had been stupid enough to believe it might be different.
She pressed her face into a throw pillow and let herself cry properly, the kind of ugly, gasping sobs that left her throat raw and her eyes burning.
She cried until there was nothing left, until she was wrung out and hollow, and even then the tears kept coming in these awful little hiccupping waves.
Her phone was buzzing. Had been buzzing for the past ten minutes, probably. She ignored it.
But it kept going. Persistent. And finally, because apparently even in the middle of falling apart she couldn't just let someone worry, she picked it up.
Twelve missed calls from Lily.
Annabelle pressed the callback button with shaking fingers.
Lily picked up on the first ring. "Where the hell are you? I've been trying to… Annabelle? Are you crying?"
"Can you come over?" Her voice came out small and broken. "Please?"
"I'm already grabbing my keys."
THE TIME BETWEEN calling Lily and hearing the knock on her door felt both endless and far too short. Annabelle had managed to move from the sofa to the floor, her back against the coffee table, tissues scattered around her like casualties of war.
Lily let herself in with the spare key and found her there, cross-legged on the carpet, mascara probably everywhere, still crying.
"Oh, honey." Lily dropped to the floor beside her and pulled her into a hug without asking questions. Just held her, solid and steady and exactly what Annabelle needed.
"I knew this would happen," Annabelle said into Lily's shoulder. "I knew she'd leave."
"What happened?"
So Annabelle told her. About the article. About Raven showing up to apologize but really to say goodbye. About London and the solo career and I was always going to leave eventually.
"She wouldn't even try," Annabelle said, fresh tears spilling over. "I asked her about long distance and she just… she said no. Like it wasn't even worth considering."
Lily was quiet for a long moment, still holding her. Then, very gently: "Why did you think you needed to fix everything?"
"What?"
"The article. Talking to that journalist. You were trying to fix it, weren't you? To make people see Raven the way you do."
Annabelle pulled back, wiping at her face. "I was trying to help."
"I know. But you've been doing that since she got here. Bringing her biscuits. Recruiting her for the fundraiser. Organizing everything so it wouldn't be too overwhelming for her. You've been trying to make her want to stay by being… what? Perfect? Indispensable?"
"That's not…" But Annabelle's voice broke. Because it was true, wasn't it? She'd been trying so hard to be enough. To give Raven reasons to stay without ever actually asking her to.
"I was terrified," she admitted. "If I asked for too much, she'd realize I wasn't worth staying for."
"Oh, Annabelle." Lily's voice was infinitely sad. "You are worth staying for. But you can't make someone choose you by never asking them to. By fixing everything so they never have to see you struggle or need anything."
"I just wanted her to want to stay."
"I know. But she has to want that on her own. And if she doesn't…" Lily squeezed her hand. "Then it was never going to work anyway."
They sat there on the floor for a while longer, Lily holding her while Annabelle cried herself out properly this time. The ugly, messy, necessary kind of crying that left her feeling scraped raw but somehow lighter.
Eventually Lily made tea, because that's what happens in a crisis, and they moved to the sofa.
"What are you going to do?" Lily asked.
Annabelle stared into her mug. "Go to school tomorrow. Thank everyone for the fundraiser. Pretend I'm fine."
"Are you fine?"
"No." The word came out flat. Honest. "But I will be. Eventually."
She had to be. Because that's what Annabelle did. She picked herself up. She kept going. She smiled even when it hurt.
Even when everything inside her felt shattered.
AT SCHOOL THE next day, Annabelle put on her brightest smile.
It felt like wearing a mask two sizes too small, but she managed it. She had to. The children were still buzzing about the fundraiser, about Raven's performance, about how they'd saved the library. Their joy was real and uncomplicated, and Annabelle refused to let her own heartbreak dim that.
"Ms. Swift! Ms. Swift!" Lucy Bourdan ran up to her as soon as she entered the classroom. "My mum said we raised almost twenty thousand pounds! Is that true?"
"It is true." Annabelle's smile didn't waver. "You should all be very proud."
She'd barely slept. Had spent most of the night staring at her ceiling, replaying every moment with Raven like some kind of masochistic highlight reel.
The kiss in the cottage. The guitar lessons.
The way Raven had looked at her across the fundraiser stage, right before everything went dark and she'd saved the night.
I was always going to leave eventually.
Annabelle shook the thought away and focused on the children streaming into the classroom, each one more excited than the last.
"We saved the library, Ms. Swift!"
"My dad said you're a hero!"
"Can we go see the new books?"
The morning was a blur of thank-yous and hugs and excited chatter.
Parents stopped her in the corridor to express their gratitude, most of them carefully not mentioning Raven, though a few asked if she was still in the village.
Annabelle deflected those questions with practiced ease, redirecting the conversation back to the fundraiser, to the children, to anything else.
Mrs. Long, Jamie’s mum, cornered her by the staff room. "That was quite something you pulled off. However did you manage it?"
"Just lucky timing," Annabelle said brightly. "Right place, right time. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to organize the library inventory…"
"Of course, of course. But really, Annabelle, well done. The whole village is talking about it."
Yes. The whole village was talking about it. About the fundraiser. About Raven. About how their primary school teacher had somehow convinced a rockstar to play for them.
None of them knew that same rockstar had walked out of her life less than twenty-four hours ago.
The children drew pictures during art time, most of them featuring Raven with her guitar, the stage, the moment the lights came back on. Annabelle helped them add details, praised their creativity, and tried not to look too closely at the drawings in case she started crying in the middle of class.
She threw herself into logistics and planning. Made lists of which books needed cataloguing. Drafted a thank-you note to send to every donor, every volunteer, every person who'd contributed to saving their library.
Anything to keep busy. Anything to keep her mind from drifting to the cottage next door that would soon be empty.
Nina watched her with worried eyes during lunch, hovering near her elbow as Annabelle organized the library furniture delivery schedule.
"You know you can talk to me, right?" Nina said finally. "If something's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong." Annabelle's smile was automatic now. "Everything's wonderful. We saved the library."
"Annabelle…"
"Can you make sure Thomas is wearing his coat, it’s cold outside."
Nina opened her mouth, closed it, then nodded reluctantly. "Of course."
Lily caught her in the corridor between classes and just squeezed her hand, a silent question: are you okay?
Annabelle nodded. Smiled. Kept moving.
She was fine. Everything was wonderful. They'd saved the library, hadn't they? That was what mattered.
That was what had to matter.
Because if she let herself think about anything else, about Raven's face when she'd said I don't think that would work, about the way she'd turned and walked away like it didn't rip her apart too, Annabelle would fall to pieces right here in the school corridor, and she couldn't do that.
Not here. Not when everyone was counting on her to be steady and cheerful and fine.
"Ms. Swift?"
Annabelle looked down to find Jamie standing beside her desk, his guitar case in hand. Right. Thursday afternoons. Guitar lessons with Raven. She’d taken to coming in on Tuesdays and Thursdays right as school finished, rather than subjecting Jamie to the empty bottles in her cottage.
Oh God.
"Yes, Jamie?"
"Is Ms. Raven coming today?" His expression was hopeful, eager. "She said she'd teach me the chords to that song. The one from the fundraiser."
Annabelle's smile faltered. Just for a second. But she caught it, pulled it back into place even as her chest constricted painfully.
"I don't know, sweetheart."
"Can we call her?"
"I… I'm not sure she's available today."
Jamie's face fell. "Oh. Okay." He hesitated, then: "Is she sick? Mum said someone at the shop said Ms. Raven might be leaving. But that's not true, right? She wouldn't leave without saying goodbye."
Annabelle felt something crack inside her chest. She kneeled down to Jamie's level, still smiling even though it felt like her face might shatter.
"Sometimes grown-ups have to make difficult choices," she said gently. "Ms. Raven has important work to do in London. She might have to go back sooner than we thought."
"But she'll come back?"
"I don't know."
Jamie's lower lip trembled. "But she promised to teach me the bridge. The hard part."
"I know." Annabelle wanted to cry again. Wanted to scream. But she kept her voice steady, kept her smile in place. "Maybe we can practice together instead? I'm not as good as Ms. Raven, but I can try."
"It's not the same."
No. It wasn't.
Nothing would be the same.
THAT EVENING, ALONE in her cottage, Annabelle finally let the mask slip.
She stood at her kitchen sink, staring out the window toward Raven's cottage. The lights were on. Raven was there, probably packing, probably already halfway to gone.
Annabelle had half a mind to march over there. To demand an explanation that made sense. To ask why she wasn't even worth trying for.
But she didn't.
Because Lily was right. She couldn't make someone choose her. Couldn't fix this by trying harder or being better or asking for less.
She'd spent so long trying to be perfect. Bringing Raven biscuits and giving her space and never asking for too much. Never letting her see the messy, needy parts. Never admitting how terrified she was that if she asked Raven to stay, Raven would realize Annabelle wasn't special enough to stay for.
And in the end, it hadn't mattered anyway.
Raven was still leaving.
Annabelle turned away from the window, away from the sight of that cottage and everything it represented. She sank down at the kitchen table and put her head in her hands.
She'd been so stupid. Falling for someone who'd been clear from the beginning that they were only passing through. Convincing herself that if she could just be bright enough, helpful enough, perfect enough, Raven might change her mind.
But people didn't stay because you fixed their problems or made their lives easier. They stayed because they wanted to. Because they chose to.
And Raven hadn't chosen her.
Her phone buzzed. A text from Lily: Checking in. You okay?
Annabelle typed back: Fine. Just tired. Talk tomorrow.
Then she silenced her phone and stared at the table surface.
Tomorrow she'd be fine. Tomorrow she'd smile and thank people and organize the library setup and pretend her heart wasn't breaking.
Tomorrow she'd be the Annabelle everyone expected her to be: cheerful, optimistic, unshakeable.
But tonight, alone in her kitchen with the curtains drawn and no one to see, she let herself sit in the wreckage of what she'd thought could be.
She'd known this would happen.
She'd always known.
And somehow, that made it hurt even worse.