What if I roll the stone away?
They're gonna crucify me anyway.
Amelia loves nothing more than the smell of morning coffee brewing in her kitchen and the sight of pancakes being meticulously stacked with whipped cream, blueberries, and maple syrup by Arizona as if she's performing surgery in their now-shared space. She loves when the blonde takes over and loves how comfortable Arizona has become at her apartment. She loves that they borrow each other's clothes and adores how the shirt Arizona stole from her closet falls just a couple of inches short on her thighs, messy blonde hair framing her face, and the biggest dimpled smile lighting up the room.
Arizona is so radiant and beautiful that Amelia still finds herself blown away, amazed at how she's only come to see Arizona in this light after years of knowing her. It feels different this time—they're still playful with each other, but there's more seriousness now. She hopes that breaking the final barrier of their friendship was the right decision and that what they have now will be worth it in the end.
Now that Amelia has gotten a glimpse of life with Arizona, she doubts she could ever survive without it.
She could get used to this every day.
"Good morning!" The blonde cheers as she slides a plate of breakfast across the counter to Amelia, followed by a cup of coffee. Arizona looks so happy that all Amelia wants to do is kiss her.
Amelia takes it with a smile and makes her way to Arizona, leaning in for a quick kiss. She loops her arms around Arizona's neck, gently bumping her hips against hers as they move together—it all feels cheesy and unrealistic. But neither of them mind at all.
32
The apartment is so quiet that everything about her space feels uncomfortable. Amelia blinks back to reality, still lost in thoughts about how her kitchen looks the same yet feels unbearably empty. Her coffee tastes terrible because she made it herself—there's no Arizona to brew it perfectly. She has no appetite, and even if she did, she knows she wouldn't eat much since she's a terrible cook. The kitchen feels dark and cold, with all the blinds pulled down.
She misses Arizona and the way she greets her every morning with that smile. She misses seeing Arizona in her clothes. She misses watching her cook, often struck by how breathtakingly beautiful Arizona looks when the sunlight streams through the window, making her glow even more.
The fear of waking up without Arizona at her place finally hits Amelia, and she has little trust in herself to survive this. It shouldn't be this way.
If she had chosen to stay instead of running at her first instinct, she wouldn't be in this situation. But here she is now, completely disappointed in the fact that she has messed up all her chances of being with Arizona.
She wishes she was anything but insecure and scared and that she wouldn't use running and self-sabotaging as her way to cope. But here she is now, alone—away from Arizona.
She can hardly imagine how Arizona must have felt waking up alone in an empty bed. The last thing she wants is for Arizona to think she doesn't care—that she just slept with her and left without a second thought as if Arizona meant nothing. But that's exactly how it must have looked now for Arizona, and that's something that she has to live with.
Amelia smiles widely, still barely believing that this is her life now. She watches intently as Arizona sips her coffee, focused on her work emails. Biting her lip, she tilts her head, lifting her leg slightly to give a playful nudge to Arizona's under the table.
Arizona smirks, raising an eyebrow. "What?"
Without much thought, Amelia blurts, 'What does your dream wedding look like?'
She watches as Arizona chokes on her drink, clearing her throat as she recovers.
"Taking notes for our pact now, are you?" Arizona teases, narrowing her eyes as she sets her phone down, giving Amelia her full attention. "Haven't we talked about this before?"
"Can't I ask again just because I want to?" Amelia arches a brow, her leg still somehow tangled with Arizona's under the table. She props her chin on her palm, smirking slightly. "But it's nice to know you're still thinking about that pact. You know we haven't talked about the venue just yet."
Arizona laughs, glancing up at the ceiling as she tries to think. Amelia waits patiently, using the moment to admire Arizona's features even more. She finds herself wanting to take in every detail as if she could somehow know her even better, even if she is the only person in the world who knows Arizona more, knows Arizona best.
"I just want something simple, really," Arizona says, her gaze lifting to meet Amelia's. "I want a lakefront wedding."
Her eyes gleam with quiet excitement, and Amelia feels her heart swell with happiness at the thought. Instantly, her mind starts to race, thinking of a million different scenarios of what their wedding might look like—she imagines it is perfect and beautiful—then Amelia starts to realize where Arizona must have gotten the idea.
"So is that the reason why I found you looking at the Woodmark Hotel brochure a few days ago?"
Arizona's eyes widen slightly, a playful glint dancing in them. "Guilty," she admits, licking her lips as her fingers lightly graze her thigh under the table. Her gaze softens as she leans forward just a touch. "What about you? Where do you want to get married?"
Amelia chuckles, her laughter tinged with a nervous edge as she fights to suppress the rush of intrusive thoughts kicking in. She knows she's destined to lose that battle, especially around Arizona. She didn't want to overwhelm her or risk making things awkward—but then again, this was Arizona.
Arizona, who had seen her at her best and worst. Arizona, with whom she had nothing to hide.
"I don't mind getting married anywhere, as long as it's you I'm marrying," Amelia says softly, her voice steady, without a hint of hesitation.
Her thoughts come to an abrupt halt at the sound of a knock on her door.
Amelia freezes, her hand hovering over the doorknob as she wrestles with whether to even open it.
She knows it's Arizona.
Of course, it's Arizona.
But what could she possibly say? Was there even anything left to say?
She had already braced herself for the inevitable—for the realization that whatever they had, this so-called relationship was over. Completely, irreversibly over.
And if that was true, then maybe it was time to accept that they were over as friends too. How could they go back to being just thataftereverything?
"Amelia." The voice on the other side is unmistakable, and the urgency in Arizona's tone makes Amelia's stomach churn. The knocks grow louder, more frantic, each one rattling the door. "I know you're in there."
The door shakes under the pressure, and Amelia feels like she could throw up anytime now. She grips the edge of the counter, her nails digging into the surface as her breath comes short and sharp.
How has it come to this?
They're doing so well—or at least they were. Things aren't perfect, but they'regood. Then Maddie shows up and, as expected, ruins everything that they worked so hard to build.
But maybe thisisn'tMaddie's fault. Maybe it's hers.
Which is why she needs to open the door, because it's what Arizona deserves.
With a shaky hand, she opens the door, revealing a disheveled Arizona, the dark circles under her eyes a clear sign of lack of sleep. She hates being the reason behind it all.
She braces herself for Arizona to lash out, expecting the inevitable—but what happens instead takes her by surprise and weakens her resolve.
She sees the blonde's eyes pooling with tears, her hand tightening on the doorknob as if bracing for Amelia to shut the door in her face. "Why did you leave? If this is about Maddie–"
"This isn't about Maddie anymore." Amelia opens her mouth again, searching for words, but ends up with nothing. Instead, she shakes her head, lifting her shoulders in a forced attempt at a smile. "I leave because it's what I do best," she says, her voice barely above a whisper.
Arizona inhales sharply, her balance wavering slightly as she tightens her grip on the door hinge. "And you'd still think of leaving, even though it'smeyou're with now?" She scoffs, stepping a little closer. "Amelia, I'mnotlike anyone else. I'm your—"
"Yourfriend?" She finishes for her. The words cut deeper than she expected, the reality sinking in and stinging all at once—despite everything, they are still justfriends.
But friends don't fall in love with each other, don't cry like this for each other, don't sleep together, don't hold each other like this, don't cook breakfast the next morning after a night of incredible sex, and definitely don't ask each other how they want their dream wedding to look like.
"That's not fair," Arizona protests, her frown deepening as she shakes her head defensively. "I've been very clear about what I wanted since the first night we slept together."
She breathes out, and she returns the same tone back to Arizona, "No, you have not been very clear about that."
"Fuck, Amelia—" she lets out a dry laugh, her jaw clenching, and Amelia realizes she's never seen Arizona this angry, not until now. "The only reason why I had to hold back was becauseyouwere the one who said you couldn't afford to lose me if things went south between us."
Amelia stays silent, fully aware that it's true. From the very beginning, it has always been her fault. She's spent so much of her life making impulsive decisions without thinking about the consequences, simply because she's never had anything that felt thisrealbefore.
"Maybe I didn't mean it!" Amelia snaps, her voice raw and unsteady, as though the words are clawing their way out of her throat. Her frustration finally boils over, and she feels the sting of tears threatening to fall. "Maybe I was just trying to protect what we have!"
"And what do we have?" Arizona shoots back, her eyes blazing. "A friendship built on fear and avoidance? Because every time we touch, every time we pretend like it's all okay, I can't shake the feeling that we're just pretending."
Amelia's heart races and her head is pounding – the day she has feared for years has finally arrived. It's almost laughable because the last time they ever fought was over something as trivial as losing her lucky pen back in high school. This can't be happening. "You think I want this?" She points at herself, then right back at Arizona. "I'm scared that I'll lose you if we push this too far."
Arizona takes a sharp, shaky breath, her chest rising and falling as though she's trying to keep herself from breaking. Her eyes burn like she's so close to crashing out that it makes Amelia flinch.
"Guess what?" she snaps, her voice trembling, "We did push it thisfar. Right at the fucking edge— and do you want to know the part that kills me?" She takes a step closer, her words coming fast like they've been buried too long. "Your first instinct—yourfirstinstinct—is to leave me. In the middle of the night. After having sex with me. And then you have the nerve to say you love me for the first time? What the hell am I supposed to do with that, Amelia?"
Her voice cracks on the last word, her composure slipping just enough to show how deeply it hurts. "You don't get to throw that at me like it's some kind of lifeline while you're already halfway out the door."
Amelia freezes, her world crumbles even more as the weight of her mistake presses down on her. "You—"
Amelia's voice falters, she swallows hard, willing herself to find the words, but all she can do is stammer. "I didn't think you— I didn't know youheardthat."
Arizona exhales sharply, shaking her head. "Yeah, well. I did."
There's a beat of silence. Amelia feels like she's standing on a ledge, one step away from completely falling apart.
The worst part? Arizona isn't reaching out to catch her this time.
Like how Arizona does whenever she feels herself falling apart.
So, Amelia does what she always does.
Sheruns.
She runs from the feeling.
From the one person who has ever truly cared about her.
She runs from Arizona like she always does. Like all those empty, meaningless dates over the years—just another attempt to fill a void she refuses to name. Dates with people she knew, deep down, could never compare.
She's spent years walking away the moment things felt too real, too close—because she was never truly searching for someone new. She was searching for Arizona. And now, with Arizona standing right in front of her, more in love than ever—so much it almost hurts—she still runs.
But that's not Arizona's problem anymore
It's hers.
"This was a mistake." The words come out before she can stop them, but once they're in the air, they feel irreversible.
Her hands are trembling, her throat tight. "Trying to be more than friends. Thinking we could be lovers without ruining everything." She lets out a breathless, bitter laugh. "It was a fucking mistake."
It wasn't.
Breaking the barrier of their friendship to be more wasn't a mistake—it was the best decision she ever made.
But she's already hurting Arizona, and she needs to stop.
Before she loses her completely. Before she loses the one person she can't afford to let go.
Arizona just stares at her. Her expression doesn't change, but something in her eyes does—like the final thread snapping.
"A mistake," she repeats. Not as a question, but as if she's trying to process it. As if she still can't believe it.
Amelia nods, too afraid to take it back now. "We werebetteroff as friends. That's all this ever should've been."
The words feel like they're killing her as she speaks them, but she can't hold them in any longer.
This isn't even about Maddie anymore.
It's about her. Her inability to take accountability when those who stood by her, who wanted nothing but the best for her, are hurting.
Sheruns.
She hates how it always comes back to herself.
Like a spark catching fire, it starts small—manageable—until it grows into something too big, too out of control. And before she has to face the flames, she runs.
Arizona swallows hard, blinking rapidly. When she speaks again, her voice is quieter, but the anger is still there, burning beneath the surface. "Is that what you really want?"
It isn't.
Of course, it isn't.
But Amelia can't bring herself to admit it.
So shelies. "Yes."
She feels a lump in her throat as she says it, the weight of the words making it hard to swallow. A sob is already building, pressing against her chest, waiting to break free.
Arizona lets out a quiet laugh—disbelieving, exhausted. She shakes her head, looking away for a moment like she's trying to process just how much damage Amelia is willing to do to the both of them. When she looks back, the fire in her eyes is gone.
What makes it even worse—is that those used to be the same eyes that once looked at her with awe and love, ever since they were teenagers.
Now, all of it is gone, reduced to ashes.
And for what?
There's just…nothing.
"Okay." The word is final. Arizona has stopped trying. "Good… because I can't do this anymore."
Amelia's breath catches, and before she even realizes it, tears are falling. Her hands shake, her whole body trembles, and suddenly, it's unbearable—Arizona slipping through her fingers, the weight of everything crashing down all at once.
"Maybe…" She chokes on the word, trying to steady her voice, but it's no use. "Maybe we can just go back." She sniffles, wiping her face with the back of her hand. "To how we were before. …friends."
She doesn't even know why—how she could have the audacity to ask that after everything they've been through.
But at that moment, all Amelia can think about is how she can't lose her.
Trying to salvage if there is anything left to save, if there's anything left at all.
Arizona's breath hitches, and for a fleeting moment, Amelia thinks she might say yes—that she might let her undo this, pretend none of it ever happened. A flicker of hope sparks in her chest because, god, if she's given the chance, she'll start over. She'll fix them.
But then, Arizona shakes her head, a single tear slipping down her cheek.
"You know it's not that easy." Her voice is barely above a whisper, but it cuts through Amelia like a knife.
Arizona blinks, and more tears fall, but she doesn't move to wipe them away. "You don't get to break my heart and ask me to be your friend." She exhales shakily, swallowing hard. "You lose me, Amelia. Even as a friend."
The words knock the air out of Amelia's lungs.
She wants to take it all back—to say something, anything—to fix this.
"Arizona, wait!"
The words escape before she even realizes she's saying them, her voice cracking under the weight of everything she's just done. She stumbles forward, reaching out as if she can pull Arizona back, as if she can take back everything she just said.
For a second—just a second—she swears Arizona hesitates. Her back stiffens like she's considering turning around like she's listening.
Like maybe, just maybe, there's still a chance.
And Amelia hopes—desperately, foolishly. She prays, even if she doesn't believe in a god because if there's ever been a moment to believe in miracles, it's this one.
35
The pact resurfaces a week after the incident with Justine at the bar, and both Arizona and Amelia are in high spirits. They're happy, playful, and in the perfect mood to indulge in cheesy wedding talk—simply because they can. They're together now.
Not together together, but committed to figuring things out.
Arizona twirls her straw in her milkshake, eyes gleaming in amusement. Like she's found a new purpose, a new direction in her life. "Okay, but if we're doing this, we're doing it right. Dream wedding, no shortcuts."
Amelia smirks, leaning in. "Alright, Dr. Robbins, tell me—what's your perfect wedding?"
Arizona sighs dramatically, and Amelia can't help but giggle at how effortlessly the blonde makes her laugh. It's almost ridiculous—how she ever thought it could work with anyone else when the right person has been in front of her all along.
"White peonies everywhere. A string quartet playing something soft but romantic. Outdoors, maybe? Sunset?" Arizona muses.
Amelia chuckles. "That's very… you." She taps her fingers on the table, considering. "I'd want it simple. Small guest list, good music, and… I don't know, someone who makes me laugh."
White peonies line in the aisle, their scent drifting through the air – Arizona's favorite, which over the years, has become Amelia's too, over. The band plays softly, signaling that the ceremony is about to begin and gently reminding the guests to settle.
It's just as they imagined it.
Amelia exhales slowly, her heart pounding as she tries to steady herself, lips pressed together.
This is it.
The pact they made four years ago at Joe's—sealed with laughter and shared milkshakes, right after a reckless make-out session at the bar. If they were still single at 35, they'd marry each other.
And now, here she is.
The doors swing open, and Amelia feels the breath knock out of her lungs.
"That's very… you." Amelia taps her fingers on the table, considering. "I'd want it simple. Small guest list, good music, and… I don't know, someone who makes me laugh."
Arizona grins. "So, me."
Amelia rolls her eyes but doesn't deny it. "If we're still single at 35, we marry each other. Deal?"
Arizona lifts their shared glass, eyes locked on Amelia's. "Deal."
Arizona steps forward, bathed in warm light. It reminds Amelia of the good old days—mornings in the kitchen, sunlight streaming through the windows, casting a glow over Arizona as she flips pancakes, completely in her element. There's no difference now. She's just as breathtaking, only this time, she's dressed in white, a soft smile playing on her lips.
She walks down the aisle, slow and steady, her gaze unwavering. Locked on Amelia.
Something tightens in Amelia's chest.
It's happening.
It's really happening.
Amelia tries not to cry.
"What about you? Where do you want to get married?"
"I don't mind getting married anywhere, as long as it's you I'm marrying."
Her mind drifts back to that conversation they had in the kitchen.
Arizona pauses, her finger in between her lips as she studies Amelia. There's no teasing in her voice, no smirk playing on her lips—just quiet certainty.
For a moment, Arizona looks as if she has forgotten how to breathe. Maybe she's used to Amelia deflecting with sarcasm, turning everything into a joke, but this? This is different.
"You're serious," Arizona says, more of a realization than a question.
Amelia shrugs, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Yeah. I am."
Something warm spreads in Arizona's chest, something terrifying and thrilling all at once. She swallows, suddenly aware of how fast her heart is beating.
"Well," she says, clearing her throat, "That's a good answer."
Amelia chuckles, bumping her knee against Arizona's under the table. "I thought so."
Arizona reaches the altar, stopping just inches away—close enough that Amelia can see the softness in her eyes, the way the light catches in her hair. For a fleeting second, Amelia swears she feels the world stop, as if holding its breath, giving Arizona the space to have her moment.
Amelia waits patiently, her heart is steady with hope swelling in her chest. This is it.
The moment when everything falls into place.
Where all the uncertainty, all the waiting, finally makes sense.
But then—Arizona moves. Sheturns.
Not to her.
But to someone else.
And Amelia realizes, too late, that the moment was never hers to begin with.
The moment shatters like glass, the weight of it crushing Amelia's chest. She could feel it, so close, she swears she could taste blood in her mouth. The only thing she hears is the sound of her heart rapidly beating out of her chest, drowning out everything– even the music, the murmurs of how beautiful the bride-to-be looks.
Reality comes crashing down on her, hitting her right in the face.
Sheisn'tthe one.
She was never the one.
The truth settles in, and memories come flooding back—the ones she's tried to bury for years, now rising to the surface, impossible to ignore. The truth of it all. How things were never the same after Arizona walked out of her apartment. How every moment since has slowly pulled them apart, undoing everything they once had.
Regret chokes her, thick and heavy. Every choice, every word she let slip—the ones that pushed Arizona away, the ones that led them here—comes crashing down on her.
Toolate.
Far too late.
She wishes she had fought harder. That she hadn't let hesitation steal the moments that mattered. That she hadn't been sofuckingterrified of what they could be.
She wishes she hadn't let her fear convince her that loving Arizona was a mistake.
More than anything, she wishes she had been honest.
That she had looked Arizona in the eyes that day and told her the truth:I love you. I've always loved you. And I don't want to lose you.
But she didn't.
She let the moment slip away. She let her fear win.
She made her leave instead.
And now she's standing here, frozen, while someone else gets to have the future that was once hers.
The disbelief slams into her hard.
How the hell did she let go of years of being inseparable over somethingsofucking small?
Looking back, it wasn't worth it. It was never worth it. The fight, the fear, the running—it all seems so ridiculous now. What was she even trying to protect?
They had spent more than a decade orbiting around each other, closer than anyone else in their lives. Arizona had been her best friend, her constant, the person she turned to for everything. And Amelia threw it all away because she was scared.
Her hands shake as more memories flood in, quick and unforgiving—
Arizona at 16, throwing an arm around her after Amelia's first heartbreak, telling her that no one who made her cry was worth her time.
Arizona laughing with her in the dorms during med school, promising they'd take over the world together.
Arizona squeezing her hand before their first surgeries as real doctors, whispering,We made it.
The first time they made love when everything had felt so right.
The way Arizona had looked at her afterward like Amelia was her whole world.
And then the day Arizona walked away.
The images hit her like a punch to the gut—
Arizona standing in the doorway, eyes pleading, desperate for Amelia to see her, to choose her, tomean somethingto her.
But Amelia had just stood there. Silent. Frozen. Letting the moment slip through her fingers
And now, three years later, Amelia regrets that she didn't. That sheshould have.
The officiant speaks, but the words blur together, distant and meaningless. All she can hear is the deafening sound of what-ifs and too-lates echoing in her head.
The only voice that breaks through is her own, screaming at her toget the fuck out of herebefore she falls apart.
But she doesn't.
She stands perfectly still, jaw clenched so tight it hurts, hands fisting together like it's the only thing keeping her upright.
Because if she moves, if she breathes too hard—
Shemightactually break.
And that's the last thing she'll ever let Arizona see.
Arizona turns to the crowd, acknowledging them one by one in silent thanks. But when her eyes find Amelia's, they linger—just for a moment.
It's the first time they've seen each other in three years. The first time they've shared the same space, and breathed the same air, after everything.
And it'son her wedding day.
Of all the moments fate could have given them, it had to be this one.
Arizona smiles.
The kind of smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.
And after years of knowing her, of loving her, Ameliajust knows.
Am I allowed to cry?