Chapter Eight — The Decision
Zara had given herself a week, but it only lasted four days.
She had told Daniel she needed a week, and she truly believed that seven full days of careful thought were necessary before making such a significant decision. Her plan was to spend that time analyzing everything methodically, examining the choice from every possible angle. She wanted to ensure that her decision to move to Boston was based on solid reasons, not just on her love for him, which had a way of making tough choices seem easier than they really were.
But she only made it four days.
Not because she stopped thinking deeply, but because every line of thought led her to the same conclusion, no matter how she approached it. She would start with the practical side — her clients were remote, her work was flexible, Boston had a thriving design scene, and the logistics of moving were manageable. The practical side pointed to yes.
Then she would consider the emotional side — she loved him, she wanted to be near him, and while the distance had been bearable, bearable wasn't the same as what she truly desired. The emotional side also led to yes.
Finally, she would confront the scary aspects — moving to a new city again, starting from scratch, and the vulnerability of fully committing to someone. This line of thought took longer. It required her to sit with her fears honestly, rather than shrinking them down to something more manageable.
And so, she sat with it.
Her gaze fell on Gerald, perched on the windowsill.
Eight leaves now. She hadn't even noticed the eighth one arriving because her mind had been preoccupied with thoughts of Boston.
She thought about a plant that thrived despite the brick wall, the limited light, and all the challenges of a Crestview windowsill.
With a sudden resolve, she picked up her phone.
She texted Daniel:
I do not need the week. — Z
He decided to call instead of just sending a text. She picked up on the first ring.
"You're sure about this?" he asked, not really as a question but more like he needed to hear the certainty in her voice rather than just read it in a message.
"Absolutely," she replied.
There was a silence that felt heavy, but in a good way.
"Boston," he said softly.
"Boston," she echoed back.
She could hear him take a breath, a slow, controlled exhale, like someone finally letting go of something they didn't even realize they were holding onto so tightly.
"I need to call the firm," he mentioned. "James Hartley has been waiting for confirmation."
"Just call him tonight," she urged. "It's only eight o'clock."
"Zara—"
"You've already made your decision, Daniel. Call him tonight, and then it's settled. We can stop living in uncertainty and just be present."
A moment of silence passed.
"Okay," he finally said.
She heard him hang up. Even from the distance of two streets between her apartment and his flat, she could sense the shift toward the next chapter.
She set her phone down and took a look around her apartment. The view of the brick wall, the lamp sitting on the desk, the sturdy wooden desk itself. The lino cut print on the wall—a bird perched in a tree, the clean black lines standing out. The blue ceramic jug on the kitchen table held market flowers that were starting to wilt and needed replacing.
Gerald was on the windowsill.
Eight leaves.
She had already made up her mind to take him to Boston. She would carefully carry him in the car, find him a sunny windowsill, and let him keep growing.
He would thrive.
She was completely sure of it.
Then her phone buzzed.
It's confirmed. We're going. — D
A smile spread across her face as she looked around her apartment.
Boston was happening.