Chapter 5: Alone (Until I Wasn’t)

I dropped my bag by the door. Kicked off my heels. Poured a glass of wine even though it was barely noon.

My laptop sat on the coffee table. The contract from his company already in my inbox.

I opened it.

Six months. Weekly check-ins. Direct collaboration with CEO on all major decisions.

Direct collaboration with CEO.

With Dominic.

I’d have to see him. Every week. For six months.

My phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

I stared at it, knowing—knowing—it was him before I even opened it.

“I know you probably don’t want to hear from me. But I’d like to take you to dinner. To discuss the project. And to apologize for how things ended. You deserve that much. - D”

My hands shook.

I typed fast, before I could second-guess myself.

“The kickoff meeting is scheduled for Monday. We can discuss the project then. Anything personal is unnecessary. - A. Moore”

Sent.

Professional. Distant. Exactly what I should be.

But my finger hovered over his name in my contacts.

I’d never deleted it.

Never deleted the photos either. They were in a hidden folder on my phone. Hundreds of them. We laughed. Him cooking. Me in his shirt. His hand on my thigh. Both of us happy.

Before it all fell apart.

I opened the folder now.

Scrolled through three years of what used to be.

And I let myself cry.

Really cry.

The ugly kind of crying you only do when you’re alone and the person you loved most in the world broke your heart and you still—still, after all this time—love them anyway.

My phone rang again.

My mom.

I almost didn’t answer. But family guilt won out.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Arielle, honey. It’s Marcus.”

My heart sank.

“What happened?”

“He’s… he’s in the hospital again. Overdose. They stabilized him but…” Her voice cracked. “Can you come home?”

Marcus. My brother. The person I’d once looked up to. Now just a shell of addiction and broken promises.

“When?” I asked, already grabbing my keys.

“Now, if you can. Your father and I… we can’t do this alone anymore.”

I’d heard that before. Many times.

But he was still my brother.

“I’m on my way.”

I hung up. Grabbed my purse. Headed for the door.

And realized with bitter irony:

Three years ago, when my brother first started getting high, when my family started falling apart, I’d needed Dominic.

I’d need him to hold me. To tell me it would be okay. To be there.

But he’d been too busy pushing me away to save me from his mess.

So I’d learned to handle mine alone.

And now?

Now I’d walk into that hospital alone.

Deal with my family’s crisis alone.

Go home alone.

And tomorrow, I’d walk into Dominic’s office and pretend I was fine.

Just like I’d been doing for three years.

My parents were waiting in the hospital when I arrived. My moms eyes looked like they'd been crying. Dad seemed like he'd aged ten years overnight.

He's stable, my father told me. Theyll be transferring him to a recovery center tomorrow morning.

I gave a small nod and embraced them both tightly.

I wish I could have been here earlier, I said.

You're here now, Mom said quietly. Thats the important thing.

We remained seated. Waiting. The fluorescent lights kept humming above us.

My phone suddenly started to vibrate inside my pocket.

I chose to ignore it.

But it kept buzzing.

Eventually, I gave in and took a look.

Three texts. All from Dominic.

Arielle, I'm begging you. Just once, lets have dinner.

I'm aware that I dont deserve it. But I am still asking.

I've been regretting what I did for three years. Please, give me a chance to make up for it.

I looked at the screen for quite a long time.

My willpower felt like it was giving in.

Before I could stop myself, I was hitting the keys:

My brother just overdosed. Im at the hospital. Can't  handle this right now.

I really shouldnt have told him.

It was no longer his concern.

But, as they say, old habits die hard.

And, apparently, part of me still wanted him to know when I was in pain and hurting.

Three dots appeared immediately.

Then:

“Which hospital?”

My heart stopped.

“Dominic, don’t—”

But before I could finish typing, I looked up.

And there he was.

Walking through the automatic doors of the ER.

Still in his suit. Hair slightly messy like he’d been running his hands through it.

Eyes scanning the waiting room until they found mine.

He’d come.

Just like he used to.

Before everything fell apart.

And I didn’t know whether to run to him or run away.