Chapter Nineteen — Boston
Boston showed up just like any new city does.
All at once, a bit overwhelming, and nothing like the pictures you see.
The apartment was even better in real life than it looked on screen — you know how good spaces always seem to shine brighter in person? The high ceilings were just as promised. Huge windows that welcomed the morning light, casting long, soft rectangles across the wooden floors. The kitchen was bigger than either of their previous ones, with counter space she hadn't had back in Crestview.
And then there was the windowsill.
She placed Gerald there first.
Before a single box was unpacked. Before they figured out the furniture or debated the bookshelves or organized the kitchen. She walked over to the windowsill, set Gerald down, and stepped back to admire him basking in the Boston morning light with his eleven leaves.
Daniel watched her do this.
"Perfect," she said.
"I measured it," he replied simply.
She turned to him, surprised.
"For Gerald specifically," he added. "Before I agreed to the apartment."
She crossed the kitchen, wrapped her arms around him, and held on tightly, like someone who just received a surprising piece of information that confirmed what she already sensed.
He held her back.
They spent the next two days unpacking.
Not exactly efficiently — the bookshelf situation sparked the conversation she had been expecting, and it played out just as she had predicted. His books on the left, hers on the right, and the question of where their shared space began.
"The middle section will take over," she warned.
"Within a year," he agreed.
"Four months," she countered.
He raised an eyebrow at her.
"Four months," he confirmed.
She returned to unpacking.
The bird from Francesca found its place on the windowsill next to Gerald.
Two pieces from Crestview. Now present in Boston.
It felt just right.
Claire arrived on the third day. Sophie dropped her off at the entrance of their building, giving her that look—a mix of concern and curiosity, like a mother handing her daughter over to someone new. Zara met her gaze, holding it steady, allowing Sophie to see whatever she needed to see in that moment.
Sophie studied her for a long moment, then glanced at Daniel. After a brief pause, she nodded—small, not entirely warm, but sincere—and got back into her car. Claire was already inside.
She strolled through the Boston apartment, hands clasped behind her back, taking her time to soak it all in—a thorough assessment that Zara had come to appreciate. She examined everything with care: the bookshelves, the windows, the kitchen.
When she reached the windowsill, she paused. There sat Gerald in his ceramic pot, his eleven leaves basking in the Boston morning light. Next to him was the small ceramic bird from Francesca. Claire studied them for a moment before turning to Zara. "You brought him."
"Of course," Zara replied.
"He has more leaves than last time."
"Eleven now."
Claire pondered this for a moment. "He looks good here," she remarked. "The light is better."
"I thought so too," Zara agreed.
Claire turned her attention to the apartment, taking in the full view—the bookshelves with their shared space in the middle, the framed map on the kitchen wall with Layla's careful lines, and the large windows letting in that beautiful Boston light.
She looked at Daniel. "It is good," she said simply.
High praise. The highest.
She settled at the kitchen table, pulled out her sketchbook, and began to draw something she chose not to explain. Zara exchanged a glance with Daniel, who met her gaze with an expression that was warm and certain, a feeling that words couldn't quite capture. She reached across the table and took his hand.
Boston had begun. It felt just right.