Chapter 51 Anna
ANNA
The riverfront was quiet, save for the gentle lapping of the Mississippi against the bank.
I hadn’t been to this spot in years. It had been since before Hurricane Katrina, when my mom and I used to sit here and talk about everything and nothing. I could almost feel her beside me, her hand resting on mine, her voice calm.
The memories came rushing back, and I let myself cry.
I cried for her, for the years I’d spent wishing she were still here. I cried for Luke, for the chance I’d had and thrown away. I cried for the fear that ruled my life, keeping me from reaching for anything I truly wanted.
I stared out at the water, the rhythmic sound of the waves soothing the ache in my chest. Marie Antoinette’s words echoed in my head. You already rejected yourself. And don’t let fear run your life.
She was right. I’d spent my whole life running from rejection instead of fighting for what I wanted.
The humid New Orleans air curled the edges of the printed pages in my lap, and I smoothed them absently as I read through my story again.
It wasn’t just a superhero story. Not really.
I’d written about a hero finding strength in vulnerability, but as I flipped through the pages, I saw myself there too, in every moment of doubt, every battle fought in silence. I’d written about my fears of failure, of opening up, of rejection.
And I’d written about Luke.
Not as a flawless hero swooping in to save the day, but as someone who showed me the beauty in being real. He showed me New Orleans—my city, my home—from a perspective I’d never known before: not just as a place that shaped me, but as a place I could finally honor and choose to leave.
The pages reflected everything I’d been too afraid to admit, even to myself, how fear of rejection had controlled so much of my life, keeping me from ever truly putting myself out there. But the real revelation? Rejection wasn’t the worst thing. The worst thing was never taking the chance at all.
My eyes burned, and I was done crying.
Mom’s voice echoed in my mind: You can do anything, Anna. You just have to try.
I pulled out my phone and logged into my email. My manuscript was ready, attached, and waiting, but my fingers hovered over the send button.
What if it wasn’t good enough?
No. I was done letting fear win.
I took a deep breath, pressed send, and watched the email disappear into the digital void.
The weight I’d been carrying for weeks began to lift, like a storm finally breaking apart to let sunlight through. I stood and looked out at the river, the golden rays of the sun spilling across the water in soft, shimmering light.
A breeze brushed past me, gentle and freeing, as if the world itself was whispering: It’s time to stop being afraid.
Feeling lighter, I sat back and opened Instagram to scroll mindlessly, but a notification from Entertainment Tonight popped up on my feed. Against my better judgment, I tapped on it. The video auto-played: Luke walking on an LA street, flanked by Tom and Hal, his hoodie pulled up.
Not just any hoodie. My hoodie.
The lavender Muses hoodie, oversized and a little worse for wear, with that faint stain from the rum-and-Coke spill. My heart stopped.
The reporter’s bubbly voice played over the clip: “Luke Fisher was spotted ahead of his big premiere.”
The camera zoomed in as a paparazzo called out, “Luke, what’s the fashion statement here?”
He stopped mid-stride and gave one of those charming, lopsided grins that could sell a million movie tickets. “No fashion statement. Just something that makes me happy.”
I froze. Happy?
The reporter pressed further. “Is it sentimental? A gift?”
Luke paused, his gaze flickering to the camera as though weighing how much to say. Then, with a half-shrug, he added, “You could say that. It’s from someone who means a lot to me.”
Someone who means a lot to me. Means. Present tense.
The reporter’s voice chimed back in as the video cut to a studio shot. “Well, there you have it. Luke Fisher, Hollywood heartthrob, keeping it real. In lavender.”
I stared at the screen, my heart racing. Of all the things he could’ve worn, he chose that. The thought sparked something deep inside me, a flicker of hope I didn’t know I still had.
Maybe he missed me as much as I missed him.
Sure, it was scary. He might reject me outright. But I was done letting fear hold me back. I was done letting fear keep me trapped in New Orleans.
I missed him more than I wanted to admit. But I wanted to challenge my fears. Whatever came next, I was ready to face it.