Chapter 30
Ella
Wednesday
The next morning, I passed the restaurant where Miles’s mom worked, on my way to the Village Oven to buy some bread and croissants for my family. I decided to go in. A really quick stop.
I leaned against the counter and asked Gunter if Miles’s mom was working that day, or if he could tell me when her next shift was. He looked at me, tilting his head.
“Miss Neblina no longer works here, Ella.”
“Really?” I asked. “Do you know where she’s working now?”
Gunter shook his head.
Oh.
Then I guess I will have to keep making detours past their house if I want to talk to her.
“She quit her job and moved out of town just a few days ago,” Gunter said, almost as if he were reading my mind. “She didn’t mention where.”
I felt a pang of sadness.
No address to send a letter. No phone number to call.
That link to Miles had disappeared just a few days ago.
And maybe that was exactly what he wanted. Maybe that was the only link.
I didn’t think anger was the best word to describe what I was feeling. I just felt... sad.
“Ella, honey, I thought we were meeting at the CIC in an hour,” Miss Amara said as she opened her front door, stepping aside to let me in.
“Thank you.” I walked inside her home, and she wrapped me in a warm, tight hug. “How was your July?”
“Beautiful!” she answered, her eyes lighting up.
She led me to the kitchen, where the scent of chamomile tea lingered in the air. We had spoken on the phone two days ago to arrange our meeting at the CIC this afternoon. During that call, I had told her about my lively family vacation, and she had shared stories of her lovely summer days.
I watched as she poured us both some tea, her movements unhurried, waiting for me to speak. She knew there was a reason I had stopped by earlier. A reason I wasn’t letting out. I traced the rim of my cup with my fingers, hesitating.
“What’s on your mind, dear?”
I shrugged. “I heard Miles already moved away for college. And I’m so proud of him. I am,” I assured her, as if saying it aloud would make the ache in my chest feel smaller. “But it hurts that he went without saying goodbye to me…”
Miss Amara’s expression softened. “Oh, honey, he left while you were on vacation,” she said, justifying it for him.
“But he knew I was away until August. And he still just… disappeared. I don’t know what I was expecting.
I’m still mad at him,” I said, but the words weren’t entirely true.
I wasn’t really that mad anymore. But I couldn’t shake the sadness of it all.
Miles never reached out before leaving, not even just to fix things. Not at all.
Miss Amara frowned slightly. “He left no voice message? Nothing?” Her tone held surprise, like she genuinely found it hard to believe.
“No,” I said quietly.
She held my gaze for a moment, then let out a slow sigh. Shaking her head a little, she looked away, as if she was disappointed in him.
I stood there, wondering if I had hurt him.
Wondering if he had felt so hurt that he decided to cut me off completely and just leave.
The last time we saw each other, he had been acting so distant, so angry.
He never told me much about the fight with his mother.
Maybe he had fought with his mother’s ex-boyfriend too.
He had mentioned him a few times this past year, always carrying a mix of discontentment.
Maybe the three of them had the most unpleasant reunion.
Maybe they had all yelled. Maybe Ben had stormed into their house, and it had all been too much for Miles.
Even if none of that gave him the right to yell at me the way he did, I could understand it.
Prom happened six days after that day. I still went with Nathan.
Before him, I had already turned down a few invitations, thinking I would rather go alone.
But I liked Nathan. And when he asked, I was surrounded by him and the others at the Village Oven, all of them watching, waiting for my answer. I couldn’t say no to Nathan.
Miles never showed up to prom. The whole night, I kept thinking about him, how he was feeling, what he was doing, why he hadn’t gone to such a milestone event.
But the truth was, it wasn’t like him to enjoy proms, school dances, or high school social events in general.
My frustration kept me from picking up the phone and calling him, to ask if it was just that, or if there was something more.
Even so, I expected him to apologize to me at some point. In my mind, he had to. And… should I have apologized too?
“Honey, I’m sorry you didn’t get to work things out.” Miss Amara carried a plate of cookies and led us into her garden. “It’s hard to tell what’s going on inside someone’s mind, or heart, sometimes.”
Her voice still held a touch of surprise, as if she, too, hadn’t expected things to turn out this way.
She met my gaze, her expression kind. “I love you both,” she said softly.
“But sometimes we have to let people go and let them follow their own paths. Because sometimes, paths do need to be uncrossed. And maybe, someday, they’ll cross again.
Maybe some things are meant to be just as they are. Even if we can’t understand why.”
She sighed, looking up at the blue sky, searching for the right words. Then, with a knowing smile, she added, “Cada coisa a seu tempo.”
I frowned slightly. “What does that mean?”
“It’s a Portuguese expression my husband used to say,” she explained, her voice warm with nostalgia.
Miss Amara’s husband was from Portugal. “It means… everything happens when it’s meant to.
Some things take time. Some things aren’t meant to happen right away, or at all.
But we have to trust that life unfolds as it should. ”
I nodded, letting her words settle in. There was something both comforting and painful about them.
Maybe some paths were meant to cross only for a time before they went their separate ways. Maybe holding on too tightly only made the letting go harder. And maybe, no matter how much I wished otherwise, I had to learn to let him walk his own path. Even if it no longer ran beside mine.