The process of relearning each other was surprisingly effortless. There was no weight dragging down their conversations, no tension thickening the air between them. It wasn't about romance or untangling old wounds; it was about rediscovering who they were beyond the storm they had weathered together. And somehow, it was easy.
One evening, sprawled across Cameron's couch with their phones in hand, Jasmine brought up astrology. "Alright, since you're some kind of expert now," she teased, passing her phone to Cameron, "tell me what my birth chart says about me."
Cameron took the device, scanning the familiar placements she had already memorized from years ago. "Gemini sun, Leo moon," she mused, a small smile playing on her lips. "That tracks. You love attention but pretend you don't."
Jasmine scoffed. "I do not love attention."
Cameron shot her a knowing look. "Says the woman who used to fake deep thoughts just to get me to stare at her longer."
Jasmine opened her mouth to argue, but the smirk on Cameron's face stopped her. Instead, she rolled her eyes and gestured for her to continue.
"Okay, your Venus is in Taurus," Cameron went on, nodding to herself. "Makes sense. You love indulgence. Good food, good music, pretty things." She glanced up, a teasing edge to her voice. "Me, for example."
Jasmine laughed, shaking her head. "You wish."
Cameron grinned but didn't argue. The playfulness between them felt natural again, a welcome contrast to the emotional landmines they once tiptoed around.
Another time, they met at an art gallery, a place they both had loved visiting in the past but never went to together. They wandered through the quiet halls, pausing at pieces that caught their attention. Cameron noticed how Jasmine's head tilted slightly when she studied something she liked, how her fingers twitched as if itching to pick up a brush. It reminded her of the afternoons they used to spend sprawled across the floor, sketchbooks in hand, pushing each other to experiment with different styles.
When they left, the conversation flowed naturally into their own art. Later that night, Cameron found herself in Jasmine's apartment for the first time in years, sitting cross-legged on the floor as they flipped through old sketchbooks.
Jasmine hesitated before pulling out one of her older ones. "I almost threw this out," she admitted, flipping through the pages filled with past works. "It reminded me too much of everything."
Cameron understood. There were things she had buried, too. But she reached out, turning the pages slowly. "Your style's changed," she noted. "More controlled, more color."
Jasmine hummed in agreement. "Yeah. I think I just… stopped trying to impress people."
Cameron looked up at her, their gazes locking for a brief moment. "It suits you."
And it did. There was an ease in Jasmine's presence now, something Cameron had never seen before. She wondered if she carried that same kind of change within herself.
Another evening, they sat on Cameron's balcony, a bottle of sparkling water between them instead of wine. They talked about books they had read since their last real conversation, about how Cameron had gotten into fantasy novels and Jasmine had started reading memoirs.
Jasmine nudged her. "I bet you still don't dog-ear pages."
Cameron gasped in mock horror. "Of course not! I respect literature."
Jasmine snorted. "I don't think folding a page is that disrespectful."
"It's barbaric," Cameron shot back.
They laughed, the kind of easy, genuine laughter that came when there was nothing left to prove.
For the first time in years, Cameron didn't feel like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. There was no expectation, no silent battle for control. Just moments, strung together like beads on a thread, creating something simple and beautiful. They were learning each other again, piece by piece, and for now, that was enough.