I Am Not Your Keyword

With her wedding days away, Cindy finds a long list of toll receipts on Harrison Evans's phone: midnight drives of twelve hours each way, made to keep her from learning where he goes. Her friends call it cold feet. She follows him to Charleston anyway, and sees a girl in his passenger seat. As she runs after them, a car hits her, and the text she sends from the pavement goes unanswered.

Harrison finally calls eight hours later, full of excuses and photos of crabapple blossoms. His ex-girlfriend Aurora Dalton has just posted the same trees, and her feed thanks the person who drove her back and forth four times in a month. At home, Harrison simmers chicken soup for a friend and carries it out the door, leaving his fiancée with a comminuted fracture and a cancelled wedding venue.

At the hospital, Cindy runs into them: Aurora holding the thermos, Harrison carrying her bag. On the ride home, Aurora keeps the front seat, and Harrison runs out for fresh cherries, calling Aurora's name.