Chapter 17
It had been four days since Galinda had told her she needed space. Elphaba sat at her desk, staring at the crumpled attempts at a letter she had sent days ago.
She had rewritten the letter twice, then a third time, trying to find the right words. Trying to tell Galinda how much she meant to her without sounding like a fool. Without sounding desperate.
And yet, she was desperate. Desperate for Galinda to say something.
But the reply never came.
Every morning, she walked downstairs to the bakery to ask if there had been any mail for her, but their answer was always the same.
Nothing.
Elphaba clenched her jaw. She had already debated going to see her in person, but Galinda had asked for space. Barging in now, demanding to be heard, wouldn’t fix anything.
So instead, she waited.
And it was agony.
Her fingers twitched toward the open drawer, where she had tucked away her original drafts. She knew rereading them wouldn’t change anything, but she couldn’t stop herself. Slowly, she unfolded the final letter, the one she had actually sent.
Dear Galinda,
I don’t know where to begin.
You asked for space, and I’ve tried to give it to you, but I need you to know that I am so sorry.
I didn’t understand that night, I wasn’t listening. I was too caught up in my own stubbornness to see what you were really saying. I should have. I should have.
You mean more to me than anyone ever has, and the thought of losing you makes me feel like I can’t breathe.
If you’re still angry, if you don’t want to see me, I’ll respect that. But please don’t shut me out completely. Please just…tell me if I still have a chance to make this right.
I miss you.
Elphaba
Elphaba exhaled sharply, folding the letter back up and gripping it tightly in her palm.
She had put everything she could into those words. And still, nothing.
She didn’t know if Galinda had read it. Didn’t know if she had skimmed it, rolled her eyes, thrown it away. The silence was unbearable.
Had she lost her?
The thought made her stomach twist.
Three days ago
The envelope sat on her desk, untouched.
Galinda had noticed it immediately when she returned to her room, its presence as sharp and insistent as the ache in her chest. The handwriting was unmistakable, Elphaba’s sharp, slanted script, unmistakably hers, unmistakably them.
She should have been relieved. She should have been glad Elphaba had written.
Instead, she just felt…tired.
Her hands clenched at her sides as she stared at it. She had been trying to push away the weight of their last conversation, the frustration, the hurt, the way Elphaba had brushed her off like she was being irrational. And yet, here she was, standing frozen in front of an envelope like it had the power to unravel her completely.
Because it did.
Galinda exhaled sharply, shaking her head. No. No, she would not let Elphaba do this to her, make her feel everything even when she was still so angry.
She turned away.
Then hesitated.
Damn it.
With a sharp motion, she grabbed the envelope and ripped it open before she could change her mind. Her pulse quickened as she unfolded the letter, eyes scanning the words before she could steel herself against them.
Dear Galinda,
I don’t know where to begin.
Her throat tightened.
You asked for space, and I’ve tried to give it to you, but I need you to know that I am so sorry.
Galinda closed her eyes for a moment.
You mean more to me than anyone ever has, and the thought of losing you makes me feel like I can’t breathe.
She felt a sharp pang in her chest. Damn her. Damn Elphaba and her stupid words, her ability to make Galinda feel even when she didn’t want to. Even when she still felt raw and uncertain.
She had hurt her. She had dismissed her.
And yet, here she was, missing her.
Galinda swallowed hard, gripping the paper tighter. She read the last lines again, her stomach twisting.
Please just, tell me if I still have a chance to make this right. I miss you.
A shaky breath escaped her lips. She could picture it so clearly, Elphaba writing this, scowling in frustration, crumpling up draft after draft, agonising over every word. And suddenly, Galinda could feel it, Elphaba’s worry, her desperation, the way she was probably pacing in her room, waiting, waiting, just like she had been.
And just like that, her anger wavered.
Because Elphaba did care.
She wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse.
Galinda pressed her lips together, then exhaled sharply, already reaching for a blank sheet of paper.
She had to reply.
Not because she was ready to forgive her. Not because she wasn’t still hurt.
But because Elphaba deserved to know that she hadn’t lost her.
Not yet.
And yet…
She didn’t send it.
Not that day. Not the next.
She told herself she needed more time, that she needed to be sure of what she wanted to say. But deep down, she knew the truth…she was scared. Scared that writing back would mean facing everything, that it would open the door to a conversation she still wasn’t ready to have.
Still, the longer she waited, the worse she felt. Every day that passed, she pictured Elphaba checking for a reply, waiting, wondering.
She didn’t want to hurt her like that.
So, after too many days of hesitation, she finally folded the letter, sealed the envelope, and sent it.
And when she did, she felt like she could breathe just a little easier.
Present day
Elphaba had all but given up hope. It was late in the afternoon, when she had finally forced herself to leave her room and attempt something close to productivity. She was just locking her door when the baker’s assistant caught her.
“Elphaba?”
She turned, brows furrowing. “Yes?”
“You have a letter.”
Elphaba froze.
Her heart was pounding as she took the envelope, fingers trembling slightly as she turned it over. The handwriting was unmistakable.
Galinda.
She practically ran back to her room, shutting the door with a quiet click before sitting on the edge of her bed and forcing herself to breathe.
Then, carefully, she unfolded the letter.
Elphaba,
I read your letter.
I want you to know that I’m still hurt, and I still need time. What happened that night, it mattered. And I need to know that you understand why it mattered before I can even think about moving forward.
But I also need you to know this: I don’t want to lose you either.
No matter how upset I am, you are still one of the most important people in my life. That hasn’t changed.
I just wanted to reassure you that you haven’t lost me. I won’t pretend we are fine and we have a lot to talk about, but it doesn’t mean it’s the end.
So I’ll see you on Friday.
We’ll talk then.
Galinda
Elphaba reread the words over and over, barely daring to believe them.
She was still hurt.
But she wasn’t gone.
And that was enough.
For now.
At Shiz, Fiyero had been avoided all week, but he eventually found Galinda at lunch on Friday, sitting at her usual spot with her usual perfect posture, her usual carefully curated smile in place.
But it was all for show.
Her laughter was too bright. Her movements were too precise. She was acting like she didn’t care, but Fiyero knew better.
He waited until her friends had left, then set his tray down across from her and gave her a look. “You’ve been avoiding me all week.”
Galinda barely glanced up. “I’ve been busy.”
“Right,” Fiyero said dryly. “Because you haven’t been leaving rooms when I walk in.”
She speared a piece of fruit with her fork. “I don’t see why it matters.”
Fiyero leaned forward. “Have you heard from Elphaba?”
Galinda’s grip tightened on the fork, just for a second. “She sent a letter.”
Fiyero raised his brows. “And?”
Galinda inhaled sharply, then set down her fork with a little too much force. “I replied.”
Fiyero blinked, clearly surprised. “You did?”
“Yes,” Galinda said, lifting her chin. “I told her I was mad. And that we would talk tonight.”
Fiyero studied her for a long moment. “And how do you feel about that?”
Galinda hesitated, then sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I don’t know.” She looked down at her plate. “I know I want to see her. I just don’t know if I’m ready to hear what she has to say.”
Fiyero was quiet for a beat. Then, gently, he said, “I think she’d rather hear your side than defend her own.”
Galinda’s lips pressed together. “Maybe.”
Fiyero studied her again, then shook his head. “What happened to make you want to keep Elphaba away from Rhea?”
Galinda went still.
“I know something had to have happened,” Fiyero continued. “And I know that’s why you and Elphaba fought.”
Galinda let out a short, humourless laugh. “You think you know everything, don’t you?”
Fiyero shrugged. “I know you. And I know you wouldn’t shut Elphaba out like this unless something else was going on.”
Galinda hesitated. Then, finally, she sighed. “I ran into Rhea before I spoke to Elphaba that night.”
Fiyero frowned. “And?”
Galinda swallowed. “She said that she was more Elphaba’s type than I am. That sooner or later, Elphaba would realise that.”
Fiyero’s jaw tightened.
“She said I was trying too hard to fit into Elphaba’s world,” Galinda whispered. “That she and Elphaba already understood each other in ways I never could.” Her voice wavered. “I had seen them at the bar, and then Elphaba called me insecure…”
Her breath hitched.
Fiyero didn’t need her to finish.
He could imagine it.
Elphaba standing too close to Rhea. Letting her touch her. Dismissing Galinda’s concerns like they didn’t matter.
Fiyero ran a hand down his face. “Shit.”
Galinda let out a small, bitter laugh. “Yeah.”
“Glin, you should’ve told her.”
Galinda scoffed. “And say what? Hey, Elphaba, your friend told me I don’t belong with you, and now I’m paranoid it’s true?”
“Yes,” Fiyero said bluntly.
Galinda huffed. “She wouldn’t have cared.”
“She would have cared,” Fiyero corrected. “She just…she’s a fucking idiot when it comes to emotions, okay? You have to spell things out for her.”
Galinda frowned.
Fiyero leaned forward. “You were afraid that Rhea was right. That Elphaba might think she was right. But Elphaba didn’t know any of that. All she saw was you getting upset over some harmless flirting, so she treated it like it wasn’t a big deal.”
Galinda bit her lip, looking down at her untouched plate.
Fiyero sighed, running a hand through his hair before setting his elbows on the table. “She doesn’t look at Rhea like that, Galinda. She only has eyes for you.”
Galinda’s breath caught, her stomach twisting painfully.
She wanted so badly to believe that.
Fiyero could see the doubt in her expression, the way her fingers tightened around the silverware like she was bracing herself for disappointment. He shook his head. “Seriously, Glin. I know Elphaba. And I know how she looks at you.”
Galinda exhaled shakily. “She looked at Rhea, too.”
“Not like she looks at you,” Fiyero corrected, his voice firm. “Not like you’re the only person in the room. Not like the whole world could fall apart and she wouldn’t notice because you’re standing there.”
Galinda swallowed.
Because she had seen that look before.
Countless times.
In the way Elphaba’s gaze softened whenever she laughed too hard at her own jokes. In the way her whole body leaned in whenever Galinda spoke, as if her words were the only ones that mattered. In the way Elphaba sometimes looked at her like she wanted to say something, but couldn’t, or wouldn’t, because it felt too big, too important.
Had she really not noticed it before? Or had she just been too afraid to believe it?
Fiyero shook his head, his voice quieter now. “I don’t know what’s going on in that head of hers, but I do know she will have been miserable all week. And I know it’s because of you.” He hesitated. “And you should know, when you told her you wanted space, the first thing she did was ask me to make sure you got back safely.”
Galinda let out a shaky breath.
Fiyero gave her a pointed look. “So tell her what Rhea said.”
Galinda hesitated.
Then, slowly, she nodded.
She was going to the Ozdust.
Elphaba had told herself not to expect Galinda to come tonight.
She had told herself not to look toward the entrance every time the door swung open.
She had told herself to stop her eyes scanning the crowd from the stage.
She had told herself not to feel this crushing weight in her chest when she realised, at some point, that the night was nearly over.
And Galinda wasn’t coming.
Elphaba gripped her glass tighter, her fingers itching to break something…anything, to force some kind of release.
She had been holding herself together for days, and the only thing that had kept her from falling apart was the hope that maybe, just maybe, Galinda would give her a chance to make things right.
But she hadn’t.
And maybe, she wouldn’t.
The thought made her stomach churn.
A voice broke through her spiralling thoughts.
“You know,” Rhea drawled, slipping into the seat beside her, “you’re not very fun company tonight.”
Elphaba barely glanced at her. “Then go bother someone else.”
Rhea smirked. “That a suggestion or a plea?”
Elphaba didn’t answer.
Rhea sighed dramatically. “Shame. I was hoping to celebrate.”
Elphaba frowned. “Celebrate what?”
Rhea tilted her head, eyes glinting. “Well, I’ve noticed your girlfriend isn’t here tonight.”
Elphaba went still.
Rhea leaned in, voice low. “Maybe she’s realising I had a point.”
Elphaba turned sharply. “Excuse me?”
Rhea smiled, slow and smug. “Oh, did she not tell you? We had a lovely chat last week.”
Something cold slithered down Elphaba’s spine. “What did you say to her?”
Rhea traced the rim of her glass. “Just the truth.” She flicked a glance at Elphaba. “That you and I understand each other in ways she never will. That I wouldn’t stop flirting with you. That we would be better together. That sooner or later, you’d realise it, too.”
Elphaba felt like she’d been punched.
Rhea’s words twisted and snapped into place with every hesitation Galinda had shown that night.
She had been hurt.
She had been scared.
And Elphaba hadn’t listened.
She had thrown accusations at Galinda instead of seeing what was right in front of her.
A sick, nauseous feeling churned in her stomach.
“Rhea,” she said, voice dangerously quiet, “you need to leave.”
Rhea chuckled. “Come on, Elphaba, don’t let that girl come between us. This is our chance.” She put her hand on Elphaba’s arm.
Elphaba snatched her arm away. “That girl has a name. It’s Galinda. The only one coming in between anyone here is you. I will never be interested in you Rhea.
Rhea moved in closer. “Oh come on, Elphaba. You have been blinded. You need to see what else is out here.”
Then she kissed her.
Elphaba froze.
She didn’t kiss back. She didn’t even react.
But then…
A flicker of movement.
A shadow by the entrance.
Her heart stopped.
Galinda.
She had seen.
She stood motionless, expression unreadable, but the devastation in her eyes was unmistakable.
Elphaba wrenched herself back from Rhea, stumbling slightly. “Galinda…”
But Galinda had already turned.
And left.
Elphaba’s pulse roared in her ears.
Her hands were shaking.
No.
She couldn’t let Galinda walk away again.
With a sharp breath, she shoved past Rhea and bolted for the door.
Elphaba’s heart was pounding so loudly she could barely hear her own footsteps as she ran after Galinda.
“Galinda!” she called desperately.
Galinda didn’t stop.
“Galinda, please!”
That did it.
Galinda halted mid-step.
For a moment, she didn’t turn around. Just stood there, back rigid, shoulders trembling. Then, finally, she turned.
And Elphaba wished she hadn’t.
Because the look on Galinda’s face, the sheer hurt in her eyes, was enough to cut her down where she stood.
Elphaba opened her mouth, but Galinda spoke first.
“Don’t.”
Her voice was thin, shaking, but sharp enough to stop Elphaba cold.
Elphaba swallowed. “Galinda, I…”
“I saw you,” Galinda said, barely above a whisper. “I saw her kiss you.”
Elphaba flinched. “I didn’t…”
“Oh, please,” Galinda snapped. “You didn’t what? You didn’t want it?” She let out a short, bitter laugh. “Well, you sure as hell didn’t stop it.”
Elphaba took a shaky step forward. “I…I froze”.
Galinda scoffed, shaking her head. “Of course you did.” Her arms wrapped tightly around herself. “Because this is what I was worried about.”
Elphaba’s stomach twisted. “What?”
Galinda let out a shaky breath, blinking hard. “She told me, Elphaba,” she whispered. “She told me she was going to try something. That sooner or later, you’d realise she was more your type. And I, I knew she was messing with me, but part of me was still so scared that she was right.” Her voice cracked. “And now? Now it looks like she was.”
Elphaba’s entire body went rigid. “She wasn’t,” she said fiercely. “Galinda, you have to believe me.”
“I did believe you!” Galinda’s voice rose, her composure slipping entirely. “I believed in us! Even when it was hard, even when I wasn’t sure where I fit into your world, I still chose you, Elphaba! And now…” Her voice broke. She inhaled sharply. “Now it feels like I was just being naive.”
Elphaba took another step forward, desperate. “You weren’t! Galinda, I…”
Galinda flinched back.
Elphaba froze.
Galinda let out a shaky breath, looking away. “I can’t do this,” she whispered.
The words felt like a dagger to the chest.
Elphaba’s breath caught. “Galinda…”
“I can’t,” she repeated, voice firmer now, but still unbearably fragile. “Not tonight.”
Then she turned.
And walked away.
Elphaba just stood there, her hands trembling at her sides, watching the girl she loved disappear into the night.
“You absolute fucking idiot.”
Elphaba barely had time to register the words before Fiyero was there, shoving her hard in the shoulder.
Elphaba barely reacted.
Fiyero let out an exasperated noise. “What did you do?”
Elphaba inhaled sharply. “Not now, Fiyero.”
“Yes, now,” he snapped. “Because Galinda just left here looking like she was barely holding herself together, and I don’t even need to ask whose fault that is.”
Elphaba pinched the bridge of her nose and gritted her teeth. “She saw Rhea kiss me, but I didn’t…”
“Didn’t what?” Fiyero cut her off. “Didn’t cheat on her? Didn’t mean to hurt her? Yeah, well, guess what? She’s still standing out there feeling like her heart just got ripped out, so congratulations, Elphaba, you succeeded anyway.”
Elphaba clenched her fists. “I didn’t kiss Rhea.”
Fiyero exhaled sharply. “Yeah, but you let it happen.”
Elphaba shut her eyes.
Fiyero shook his head, voice edged with frustration. “She wanted you when no one else did, Elphaba. She stood up for you when people were being cruel. And now? Now that you’re getting a little bit of attention, a little bit of admiration, suddenly it’s like you’ve forgotten that.”
Elphaba flinched.
Fiyero scoffed. “You think you’re the only one who noticed? People have been looking at you differently since you two got together, and you like it.” He narrowed his eyes. “But while you’ve been busy soaking up your newfound popularity, Galinda’s been standing there in the background, waiting for you to remember that she was the one who saw something special in you first.”
Elphaba felt sick.
“Fiyero…”
“No,” he snapped. “You don’t get to make excuses right now. Because she’s right, Elphaba. You didn’t mean for this to happen, but you still let it. And that’s on you.”
Elphaba inhaled sharply, her chest aching with the weight of everything she had done wrong.
Silence. Fiyero watches her, his breath still heavy, but he can tell there’s more. He waits.
Elphaba’s voice breaks, as her words tumble out. “Galinda is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. She’s…she’s everything. There is no one else, Fiyero. No one who could ever compare to her. I don’t look at anyone else because why would I? Why would I ever want anyone who isn’t her?”
Her breath catches, her panic rising as the weight of what’s happened fully crashes over her.
“And now I’ve ruined it. She saw that, and she’ll never forgive me, and I can’t…I can’t lose her. I can’t. She’s the only person who’s ever…who’s ever made me feel like I wasn’t some mistake. Like I mattered. If I lose her…”
Her voice falters, her chest rising and falling too fast. She presses a shaking hand to her mouth, trying to keep herself together, but she’s unraveling.
“I love her.”
The words slip out, raw and terrified. Fiyero exhales sharply, his expression finally shifting, some of his anger fading into something quieter. He studies her for a moment, and when he speaks, his voice is softer, but firm.
“Have you told her?”
Elphaba swallows hard, shaking her head, ashamed.
Fiyero lets out a frustrated laugh, shaking his head. “Of course you haven’t.”
Elphaba flinches but doesn’t argue.
Fiyero’s voice is firm as he looks her dead in the eyes and says, “Then fix it.”
She looks up at him, wide-eyed, but he’s not finished.
“Last time, she asked for space, and you gave it to her. But she didn’t mean it, Elphaba. She thought you’d chase after her. And when you didn’t, when you just let her go, she felt alone.”
Elphaba’s breath catches, guilt crashing into her.
Fiyero’s voice carries on. “This? This is going to take a hell of a lot more than just a letter. You need to show her that you aren’t giving up.”
His voice is final. He doesn’t wait for a response. He just shakes his head one last time and turns away, leaving her standing there, alone with her thoughts.
Elphaba nodded and started planning how the hell she was going to fix this.