A Day in the Life of Amy

At first, the days after Amy’s choice felt light, almost dreamlike. Fiona’s loft smelled like coffee and paint, her laughter echoing through the high ceilings as Amy wandered around barefoot, Max curled up in his new favorite spot by the window.

But the outside world was less forgiving.

It started with Rose.

She cornered Amy at brunch the following weekend, her oversized sunglasses hiding nothing of the sharp look in her eyes. “So… Mark called me,” she said, sipping her Bloody Mary like it was a weapon.

Amy froze, fork halfway to her mouth. “He what?”

Rose nodded slowly, watching her. “Oh, he’s hurting. Said he felt blindsided. And I don’t blame him.”

Amy’s stomach twisted. “Rose, I—”

“Don’t.” Rose put her glass down with a soft clink. “You know I love you. But girl, you better be sure about this. You’ve got people talking already.”

“Talking?”

Rose gave her a knowing look. “Napa’s small. You can’t kiss someone like Fiona in public and expect whispers not to spread.”

Amy’s cheeks burned. She hadn’t even realized anyone had seen.

By the time she left brunch, her phone was buzzing with messages—two from her mother (“Call me, Amy. I heard something concerning”) and one from an old coworker: “Saw you downtown with that photographer—didn’t know you swung that way 😉.”

Amy shoved the phone into her bag, heat crawling up her neck.

That evening, when she told Fiona about it, Fiona just leaned back against the counter, arms folded. “I told you this would happen. Napa eats rumors for breakfast.”

Amy bit her lip. “Are you mad?”

“No,” Fiona said simply, her gaze steady. “But I need to know if you’re strong enough for this. Because people will test you. They’ll test us.”

Amy swallowed hard. The warmth of the honeymoon glow was still there, but shadows were creeping in around the edges. For the first time, she realized—choosing Fiona hadn’t just been about love. It was about courage.

And courage was about to be tested.