New Year’s Eve

The hospital lights flicker softly, casting a pale glow over the room. I sit next to Candy’s bed, my sketchbook open in my lap, the pencil moving almost instinctively.

Since Sydney’s arrest, I’ve been obsessed. I can’t stop drawing her. It’s like she’s etched into my mind, refusing to leave, no matter how hard I try. Every time I pick up the pencil, it’s her face that comes to life on the page.

I hate that I still draw her.

Since her arrest, I haven’t been able to stop. She’s everywhere in my mind, in my notebooks, in my dreams. It’s like my hands have a mind of their own, driven by some need to capture her. But no matter how many times I try, it’s never enough.

I glance at Candy’s still figure, the rhythmic beep of her heart monitor blending into the background. My pencil continues to glide over the paper.

Sydney.

This sketch is of her standing in a forest. The sunlight filters through the trees, casting soft shadows over her face. She looks lost, alone, like she’s searching for something or maybe waiting for someone to find her.

I flip back through the other sketches. There she is again, barefoot on a beach, her blonde hair tangled in the wind. I drew that one the night I couldn’t sleep, imagining her somewhere far away, untouched by the mess we made.

And the portraits. So many portraits. Her eyes, her lips, the soft curve of her cheek. I’ve filled two notebooks with her her expressions, her moods, her beauty. But it’s never enough. No drawing can capture her completely.

The pencil pauses as I stare at the sketch in front of me. Her face is half in shadow, half in light. I don’t know what that says about heror about me.

The door creaks open, pulling me from my thoughts. Dwayne inside, his coat slightly wrinkled, his usual smug expression in place.

“This is how you’re spending your New Year’s?” he asks, leaning against the wall.

“Yeah.” I glance at Candy, her pale face almost blending into the pillow. “There’s no other way not when this is my only family left.”

Dwayne shrugs. “What about you?” I ask him.

“I’m married to my profession,” he says with a smirk. “Hospitals, patients, emergencies this is my party.”

I chuckle shaking my head. “Classic Dwayne.”

He studies me for a moment, then grins. “You’re lucky, you know. Sydney’s a hell of a girlfriend. Always supportive, always thinking about others.”

The pencil slips from my fingers. I feel the weight of his words settle over me.

“You think so?” I ask, not looking at him.

“Of course. I have no doubt in my mind. And honestly, if you don’t have faith in her, why are you even with her?”

I laugh softly not because it’s funny, but because Leo has no idea. He doesn’t know we broke up. If only he knew Sydney was with Alarvo

“What?” Dwayne asks, frowning.

I shake my head. “Nothing.”

“Do you think she did it?” he asks, quieter now.

I stare at the sketchbook, at the shadows and light on Sydney’s face. “I don’t know,” I admit.

For a moment, the room is silent except for the steady beep of Candy’s machines.

Leo exhales sharply. “Well, if you don’t believe in her, then maybe you shouldn’t be with her,” he says, his tone firmer this time.

I glance at him and chuckle faintly. “BUt Iknow where to find out.”

He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know the mess we’re in, or that Sydney’s still running through my mind, no matter how much I try to forget her.

I snap the sketchbook shut and pull out my phone. My thumb hovers over a contact before I press call. Dwayne gave me a smirk.Walked out the room.

“I need something from you,” I say when the line connects. “And it’s not a favor. It’s a request.”

--- The room was cold and sterile, with a silence so heavy it felt like it had weight. Sydney sat across from me, her hands cuffed in front of her, her eyes locked on mine. She didn’t flinch, didn’t waver.

I, on the other hand, couldn’t stop looking at her. Not just looking—memorizing. Every line of her face, every strand of her hair, the way her orange jumpsuit somehow still clung to the grace that was uniquely hers.

Her lips parted slightly, the barest hint of a question forming, but I spoke first.

“How did you get a visit on New Year’s Eve?” she finally asked, her tone sharp but curious.

I leaned back in the chair, letting a slow smirk spread across my face. “Well, thanks to your dad—and you—I’m well acquainted with the deputy mayor. Turns out, he’s a very nice friend of mine.”

She arched an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “You pulled strings to see me?” she looked around the room "no wonder there are no guards."

“I needed to see you,” I said, my voice firmer than I expected. I want to know the truth,” I said, leaning forward, my voice low and even.

She folded her arms, meeting my gaze without flinching. “I didn’t do it. There—that’s the whole truth.”

I smirked, tilting my head. “You’re really sticking with that?”

“What else do you want me to say?” she shot back, her tone cold but sharp. “Even if I did, why would I admit it here?”

I let out a dry laugh, shaking my head. “You haven’t changed. Still stubborn. Still impossible.”

Her jaw tightened, but her expression didn’t waver. “When I said we were done, as soon as you walked off that grass, I meant it.”

The words hit like a slap, but I wasn’t about to let her see that. I leaned back, crossing my arms. “Yeah, I heard you loud and clear. Doesn’t mean I believed you.”

We sat there, locked in a silent standoff. Neither of us willing to budge. Neither of us willing to break.

“Then why are you here?” she asked finally, her voice softer but no less guarded.

“Because it’s New Year’s Eve,” I said simply.

Her brow furrowed. “And?”

“And I never thanked you,” I replied as I stood.

“For what?”

“For the money.”

Her lips parted slightly, surprise flashing across her face before she masked it again.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I added, stepping closer.

“And you didn’t have to reach for my hand” she said, her voice softer now, almost challenging.

I hesitated, staring at her for a moment. Her blonde hair framed her face, the fluorescent lights catching on strands like faint sparks of light. Even here, in that jumpsuit, she was beautiful. I’d been drawing her for weeks, trying to capture her—but none of it came close to this. To her.

Without thinking, I leaned across table and kissed her.

Her lips were pulling me in, like her legs once had. It was intoxicating, electric. The kiss hit me like fireworks, a burst of light and sound in the quiet room. Her lips were warm, familiar, but not soft. They carried tension, defiance, and something that made my chest ache.

Old memories clawed their way to the surface: late nights tangled in sheets, the way she used to whisper my name when no one else could hear.

She kissed me back.Exploring my mouth, just as much, as I was exploring her's.

When I pulled away, my hands tingled, itching to sketch this moment, this exact second the way her lips trembled, the fire in her eyes that wasn’t quite anger but wasn’t forgiveness either.

Her gaze never left mine, and for once, she didn’t have anything to say.

I turned toward the door, forcing myself to walk away. But just before I stepped out, I glanced back.

"Happy New Year."I whispered against her lips. I pulled back and looked at her. “This still doesn’t mean anything,” I said, my voice quiet but firm.

She didn’t respond. Not with words. But as I walked away, her silence stayed with me, louder than anything she could’ve said.

In the car, I gripped the steering wheel, trying to steady myself. I’d kissed her. And now, all I wanted was to get home and draw her again, to chase what I’d felt in that moment. I walked out, my chest tight, my mind racing.

I left the jail with no answers, just more questions.

And the worst part? I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to know the truth anymore.

--- Author's note

I know I said, I would come back in March.

But my fingers touch, the keyboard. And the them poof this timestamp chapter was born.

I feel this chapter needed to be here because it is a important part of the puzzle piece.

This is my last chapter promise. For the year Thank you for your support.