Chapter 3 – Begin from the End

Clara

True enough, the morning after was a symphony of pain and regret. My head throbbed like a drum, and every muscle in my body ached. Squinting against the light, I found myself cocooned in Dana's queen-sized bed, with two aspirin bottles and a glass of water perched on the nightstand like a beacon of hope. A quick scan of the sheets confirmed that I hadn't, in my drunken stupor, violated the sacredness of her bedding with any unwanted souvenirs.

I gingerly rose from the bed, navigating the room like a tightrope walker, careful not to trigger an avalanche of nausea.

"Glad you joined us in the land of the living, C!" Dana's cheerful voice floated from the kitchen, followed by the tantalizing aroma of pancakes. "Coffee?"

I managed a weak nod. Dana, ever the domestic goddess, looked effortlessly chic in her pajamas, her fiery red hair pulled into a messy bun. I'd always envied her ability to look put-together, even after a night of tequila-fueled revelry. She was a unique combination of intelligence, humor, kindness, and stunning beauty.

Her long, flowing hair, smooth olive skin, and thick lashes that framed those mesmerizing emerald eyes – a gift from her mother – were enough to make anyone envious. Compared to her, I felt like a plain Jane, with my unruly brown hair, freckled face, and petite frame. My skin, a few shades paler than Dana's, always seemed to have a hint of blotchiness, especially in the harsh New York winter.

But as I shuffled into the kitchen and took a sip of the steaming coffee Dana handed me, a wave of gratitude washed over me. I may not have been a goddess like Dana, but I had something even more valuable: her unwavering friendship. And in that moment, as the caffeine kicked in and the world slowly stopped spinning, I knew I'd be okay.

She worked on piling the beautiful and mouthwatering pancakes as I slowly sipped my freshly brewed coffee. Geez, I missed this. The cozy kitchen, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, and Dana's humming as she prepared meals filled my senses. It was a stark contrast to the sterile hotel room I'd woken up in countless times over the past year, with only the echo of Jake's snoring for company.

Dana and I had shared a tiny two-bedroom apartment before my life became entangled with Jake's. She'd insisted on finding a new place, claiming the rent was too high for one person, but I knew the truth. She was lonely without me.

"Feels like the good old times, huh?" Dana's voice was barely a whisper, laden with nostalgia.

I nodded, a smile spreading across my face. "It does. I missed this." I gestured to the pancakes, the steaming mug of coffee, and most importantly, Dana herself.

She laughed, a warm, familiar sound that chased away the last remnants of my hangover. We sat down to eat, the comfortable silence punctuated by the clinking of forks and the occasional murmur about the weather or Dana's quirky neighbors. It was a tacit understanding between us—no heavy conversations until the caffeine had kicked in and the pancakes had worked their magic.

The silence was strangely comforting, a balm for my raw emotions. For the first time in what felt like forever, I could simply breathe without the weight of expectations or the fear of saying the wrong thing. It was just me and Dana, enjoying the simple pleasure of sharing a meal together. It was a small moment of normalcy in the midst of chaos, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there was always the promise of a new day.

After Dana's delicious breakfast had revived me, I instinctively began gathering the dishes, a familiar chore from our shared apartment days. "No dirty dishes in the sink" was a cardinal rule we both lived by.

While I washed, Dana worked her magic on the living room. By the time I emerged, it was as if the previous night's emotional hurricane had never happened. They had rearranged the furniture, banished the tequila bottles, and left no remnants of leftover takeout behind. Dana's knack for creating a cozy, inviting space was just another reason I loved her.

Then came the hard part.

"So, what's your plan?" Dana asked, her voice gentle but firm.

"Where do I even start?" I sighed, tears replaced by a steely resolve. This was my mess to clean up, but having Dana by my side made it feel less daunting.

We spent the morning dissecting Dana's trusty calendar, which is our battleground. We mapped out cancellations, calls to vendors, and the dreaded task of informing our families.

My parents, Joe and Lidia, were surprisingly understanding. I kept the details vague, but the pain in my voice must have spoken volumes. My mom remained silent, but I could hear the barely suppressed fury in the background. My dad, always the pragmatist, simply said, "Good riddance."

It wasn't the reaction I'd expected, but it was the one I needed. With their support, however tacit, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. The road ahead was long and arduous, but with Dana by my side and the unwavering support of my family, I knew I could face it.

Next came the dreaded call to Jake's parents. It was a difficult conversation, but I kept it brief and factual, sparing them the sordid details of Jake's betrayal. The Tremaines were decent people, and they deserved more respect than their son had shown me.

My phone buzzed incessantly with Jake's desperate attempts to reach me, but I ignored them all. Eventually, I blocked his number and scrubbed any trace of him from my social media. He was no longer a part of my life.

The following days were a whirlwind of activity. My parents, bless their hearts, took charge of notifying our guests about the canceled wedding. It was a bittersweet task, but with their help, we managed to untangle the mess in just three days.

By Sunday, I was officially homeless. But Dana, my ever-reliable savior, opened her doors to me. Moving onto her spacious couch felt like a step up from the sterile apartment I'd shared with Jake.

Dana even took on the daunting task of retrieving my belongings from Jake's place. It amazed me how she instinctively knew where everything was, from my favorite coffee mug to the hidden stash of chocolate bars. She timed it perfectly, swooping in on a Friday night when Jake was predictably out with his buddies. In just two trips with her trusty truck, she'd salvaged my entire life from the wreckage of my relationship.

As we unloaded the last box into Dana's apartment, a wave of exhaustion washed over me. But there was also a sense of relief, a feeling that I was finally free. The past week had been a whirlwind of emotions, but I had survived. With Dana by my side, I knew I would not only survive but thrive.