LOGINDual POV — Alex & EmilyAlex’s POVThe afternoon sun slanted warm through the living room windows, dust motes dancing in the golden light. Maya stood between us, small and steady, her hands gripping my fingers and Emily’s wrists, her dark eyes wide and serious like she was weighing something very important.“Come on, bug,” I whispered, kneeling on the rug, my heart beating fast and bright in my chest. “You’ve got this. Just one step. To me.”Slowly — so slowly I held my breath — she let go of Emily with one hand. Then the other. She swayed, arms out for balance, and for a second I thought she’d drop back down to crawl. But her little face set, determined and fierce, exactly like her mother’s. And then she stepped forward.One wobbly foot, then the other. Across that small stretch of floor, from Emily’s waiting arms straight into mine. She stumbled the last half-step, and I caught her before she could tip over, lifting her high against my chest, tears spilling hot and fast down my chee
Alex’s POVThe email arrived in my inbox on a Tuesday afternoon, subject line simple and bold: Captaincy — Discussion. I stared at it for a long moment before clicking it open, my pulse quickening in a way that felt both familiar and strange. This was it. The thing I’d dreamed of since I was a teenager lacing up skates in a freezing rink, practicing until my toes went numb. They wanted me as team captain.I read the details twice. Then a third time. And that was when the excitement started to tangle with something heavier, something that pulled tight in my chest. The role came with everything I’d once thought I wanted — the honor, the voice in decisions, the respect from the league. But it also came with a price tag in hours and miles. More media appearances. Overnight trips that stretched into three and four days at a time. Away games that meant leaving before Maya woke up and coming home after she’d been asleep for hours. Weeks when the most I’d see of my family would be blurry vide
Emily’s POVThe wooden box sat on the shelf above my desk for two whole days before I had the courage to lift the latch. Every time I walked past it, I slowed down, my fingers hovering near the brass, and then I’d keep going. It felt like crossing a threshold — once I opened it, there would be no going back. Once I read those words, my mother wouldn’t just be a memory anymore. She’d be real in a way that might hurt.When I finally sat down late one quiet afternoon, Maya napping in her crib, Alex at practice, I carried the box to the kitchen table and lifted the lid. Inside were five leather-bound journals, stacked neatly, each one labeled with a year in her delicate handwriting. Beneath them was a small bundle of letters tied with faded blue ribbon, and a single photograph — her, young and bright-eyed, smiling at the camera like she knew something wonderful was coming.I opened the first one carefully, as if the pages might crumble at my touch. The ink was still dark and clear, her ha
Emily’s POV He was standing on the porch when we opened the door, and for a moment I didn’t recognize him. The Julian I remembered had been sharp around the edges — always dressed too formally, jaw tight, eyes darting like he was constantly checking for exits. The man standing there now looked softer around the shoulders but heavier somehow, like he was carrying something invisible pressing him downward. His hair was streaked with more gray than I remembered, lines etched deep around his eyes, and when he saw me, he hesitated — his hand half-raised in a gesture that was halfway between a greeting and a retreat. “Emily,” he said, and his voice was lower, quieter than I recalled. “Thank you. For letting me come.” I didn’t step forward to invite him in immediately. I gripped the doorframe, my heart beating a fast, uneven rhythm against my ribs. This was my home. Maya was asleep in her crib down the hall. Alex stood close beside me — not blocking my way, but steady, his presence a quie
Emily’s POV The afternoon sunlight slanted across the kitchen table when I found it — tucked beneath the doormat, like someone had slipped it there quickly, almost nervously, and walked away. No stamp. No postmark. Just a plain cream envelope, sealed simply, and my name written across the front in handwriting I would have recognized anywhere, even after all these years. Even if I’d tried to forget it. Emily. The letters were neat, elegant, familiar in a way that made my breath catch. My hand hovered over it for a long moment before I picked it up. It felt lighter than it should have, carrying so much weight just in those few words. Julian. I carried it inside and set it on the wooden table, like it might burn me if I held it too long. Through the window, I could see Alex in the backyard, pushing Maya gently on the little swing he’d hung from one of the lower branches of the oak tree. Her laughter carried through the open window — bright, effortless, alive. It was a beautiful day.
Alex’s POVThe rain started just after midnight — soft at first, a gentle drumming against the bedroom roof, then steady, rhythmic, filling the quiet spaces between our breaths. It was the kind of night that usually felt like a lullaby, the kind that wrapped around the cottage and made everything feel tucked in and safe. I’d fallen asleep with one arm draped heavy over Emily’s waist, the window cracked open just enough to let the cool damp air brush our faces, and for a few hours, I’d slept deep and untroubled — something that used to feel impossible.Then Maya cried.It wasn’t her usual little whimper, the one that meant she was waking up hungry or just needed a finger to hold onto. This was different — sharp, distressed, a sound that shot straight through me and had me out of bed before I was even fully awake. My bare feet met the cool wooden floor, and I crossed the hallway to her room in three quick strides, my heart already beating faster than it should.The nightlight cast her r
Emily’s POVMy legs felt loose and heavy at the same time as I stumbled back toward the bar. The music pulsed louder in my ears, each beat slamming against my skull. Kara’s warning from moments ago still rang in my head, but I pushed it away. “Another one,” I told the bartender, slapping my hand
Emily’s POVMy body moved on its own, hips swaying harder than I ever had before, arms raised like I could push the pain out through my fingertips. The bass thumped inside my chest, matching the angry beat of my pulse. Sweat clung to my skin. The black dress rode up my thighs with every sharp turn
Emily’s POVI stared at myself in the mirror and barely recognized the girl looking back.The tight black dress Kara lent me hugged every curve, short enough to make me tug at the hem nervously. My eyes were still puffy from crying, but I’d managed to cover most of the redness with makeup. Lip glo
Emily’s POV Alex was carrying me through the pulsing club lights like I weighed nothing.One strong arm wrapped under my knees, the other supporting my back. My cheek pressed against his bare chest, still warm from where I’d collapsed into him moments ago. The bass vibrated through his body into m







