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I shook my head and took another mouthful of tea.

“Because you stopped writing what you thought love was supposed to look like and you started writing what it actually costs someone.” She filled in a word on her puzzle and crossed off the clue.

I stared at the mug in front of me. “This one is different, Mom.”

“I know. Each one of them will be different.”

“I made a horrible mistake. I based the entire book on them. I took Everett, Sophie, and Rebecca and their story and I used it. I took the most painful parts of their lives and turned them into characters. His mother-in-law read a snippet of it and recognized everything.

“And?” My mom put her pencil down and looked at me.

“She’s right. It’s their personal story, and it’s not something that people need to read, especially those who know them.”

“Ember, every single story you’ve ever written was about someone real. You just didn’t know them or love them beforehand.”

“Mom…”

“No, Ember, listen to me. It doesn’t matter if a book is based on truth or fiction because someone in this world has already lived through whatever scenario you could come up with. If the book is about them, the question is whether you wrote it from a place of love or a place of taking. If you wrote it to take something from them, then Margaret is right and you should burn it. But if you wrote it because loving them has changed you, and writing it helped you process that change, then the book isn’t theft. It’s a testimony.”

I sat there shocked, digesting what she had told me, letting it sink in. Mom always had a way of being able to cut through the noise of overthinking and find the truth underneath.

“Okay, but then why don’t I know how to finish it.”

My mom smiled at me. “Ember, I don’t think it’s that you don’t know how to end it, I think you’re maybe afraid to end it. What I will tell you is that the best stories you’ve written were the ones where the characters surprised even you, so maybe you should just allow them to surprise you.”

She went right back to her crossword while I sat there drinking my tea. I thought about Rosie and Ethan, trying to come up with something. I thought about Sophie and about Everett and the way he’d looked at me when he’d told me he loved me for the first time as if I should have known it.

I glanced down at my phone to see a blinking indicator light and immediately picked it up, only to find it wasn’t a message from Everett, it was from Jules. In my panic of leaving, I’d messaged her hoping for a call on my way home, but she’d been working.

I read her message and exhaled. Then I got up from where I sat and went over to the window, looking down at the colorful maple trees that lined the parking lot.

After my shower, I flopped down on my bed with my phone in hand and called Jules. I was so grateful she answered on the second ring.

“Hey! I was just about to call you. What’s wrong?”

“I left.”

“What? Is something wrong with your mom?”

“No, Mom is fine.”

“Ember, I am confused. If things are fine with your mom, then why did you leave and exactly what did you leave? The job? Him?”

I stifled the sob and took a deep breath. “Both. I’m at my mom’s.”

“What? Why? What happened?”

I told her everything that had happened since I’d talked with her earlier, right up to where I’d left the house. Jules listened intently, and once I finished, she was quiet for a long time, which I hadn’t expected.

“Well, what do you have to say, because I know you must have some advice for me?” I said, resting up against the wall, throwing my blanket over my legs.

“I do, and I need you to hear me.”

“I always listen, Jules.”

“No, I mean, really hear me. You did the right thing,” she whispered.

It wasn’t her usual I told you so voice, and I closed my eyes as tears slid down my cheeks again.