Imogene Scott A few days later… I’m sitting by the dresser and looking at myself in the mirror while I do my hair for Dad’s service. The morning air is cold for some reason. My black dress clings to my frame and I’m able to truly notice how much weight I’ve lost in just a few days. My collarbones jut out sharply, and my cheeks look hollow. My hands tremble as I pick up the hairbrush, dragging it through my hair. Each stroke feels like I’m on autopilot. I pull my hair back into a bun. The mirror doesn’t lie. I look like a ghost of myself, but it’s not just the reflection—it’s how I feel. I miss him. I miss my dad in ways I can’t even begin to put into words. It’s like a piece of me was ripped away the moment he fell. And now, that moment keeps replaying in my head on an endless loop. The sound of the gunshot, sharp and deafening, rings in my ears at the most unexpected times—when I’m trying to eat, when I’m lying in bed trying to sleep, even now as I sit here. I see shado
Imogene Scott The ride down to the chapel is long. Damien turns up the radio at some point. Bumper-to-bumper traffic too, and Sara Bareilles’ “Brave” is the biggest song on the radio right now, so it blares from the speakers every third song. On a regular day, Sara’s fine, but the last thing I want to hear on the day of my father’s funeral is how much Sara Bareilles wants to see me be brave. We finally turn into the parking lot of the Garden Grove 6th Ward of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, the church dad attended. We walk up the front steps and in through the back door. I haven’t been here in years, but it looks and smells exactly how I remember it. Carpet cleaner and burlap, baby. White tiles in the entryway, blue carpet in the hallways, pictures of Christ in various settings with disciples plastered everywhere. The service soon begin. My insides are tightening and u fell like I’m going to throw up. I glance around, Lila isn’t anywhere to be seen. She
Damien Shaw The service ends, and I take Imogene’s hand as we walk to the car. Her grip is weak, her fingers cold despite the late afternoon sun warming the pavement. The parking lot is quiet except for the faint hum of cars passing on the main road. I glance at her as I open the passenger door for her, but she keeps her face turned away.Once I’ve settled into the driver’s seat, I start the car, and the radio hums to life. I immediately shut it off. Imogene stares out the window, her head resting against the glass, her lips pressed into a thin line. I want to say something but I know better. She hasn’t spoken since we left the church, and I’m not about to be the one to break the silence. My thoughts drift as I drive. Lila. Her absence at the funeral/ She hasn’t even called Imogene since the incident. Her husband just died, and she didn’t show up to his funeral. No call. No text. Nothing. I can’t make sense of it. But I don’t say any of this aloud. Imogene’s already spiraling.
Imogene Scott As soon as Damien’s out of the room, I sit at the edge of the bed, staring down at my hands. They’re trembling slightly, though I try to steady them by clasping them together. For some reason, I’m still worried about Lila. Why didn’t she come? I can’t stop thinking about it. I lean forward, elbows on my knees, and let out a slow, shaky breath. It’s insane, absolutely insane, to think she had anything to do with Dad’s death. But why wasn’t she there? “Stop it,” I whisper to myself. “It’s nothing. There’s no reason to spiral like this.” I force myself to sit back down on the bed, but my body feels restless, wound tight. I swing my legs up and lay back, staring at the ceiling. My eyes flutter shut, but as soon as I do, the image of that day flashes behind my eyelids again—Dad collapsing, the chaos that followed, the ambulance.This time, I don’t push it away. I let it come. My breathing quickens, but I keep my eyes closed. Slowly, the scene fades, replaced by so
Damien Shaw The kitchen smells like butter and eggs as I stand by the stove, flipping the omelette in the pan. The sizzle fills the air, and I catch the faintest scent of parsley—Lily insists she hates green things, but I sneak them in for her anyway. I glance at the clock above the sink. It’s later than I thought. Imogene is still upstairs with the doctor. I hope that goes smoothly, but something tells me it won’t. “Mummy says eggs make you strong like Superman!” Lily’s voice cuts through my thoughts as she rushes into the kitchen.“Is it ready, Daddy?” she asks.She’s peering up at me with those wide, curious eyes that make me feel like I’m doing something right in this whole parenting thing. “Just in time,” I say.I slide the omelette onto a small plate, cut it into smaller pieces, then hand it to her. “Thank you!” she chirps before scampering into the living room. I follow her with my eyes as she climbs onto the couch, settling in with her plate. A faint movement ca
Imogene Scott I sit down in the tufted chair opposite Dr Annie Eddie and let out a sigh. This is my first therapy session with her and I’m a little nervous. I’m only here because of Damien. Because I want to be better for him, for Lily and the twins. I tell her a few things about my life I’m comfortable telling anyone and she tells me in order to get to what’s underneath those emotions, what’s driving it, we need to unpack my life in a more comprehensive way.“Okay…” I’m hesitant. What will this entail? I hate the uncertainty.“And please, address me as Annie.” I nod. “Sure.”“Now, I want to understand more about Little Imogene,” she says tenderly. “I understand your mother died of cancer when you were just ten.”Always with the childhood, these therapists. I’ve seen enough movies and TV shows to know that this is the classic therapeutic scapegoat. Some shit happenedin your childhood, it messed you up, that’s why you are the way you are.But not me. I didn’t have an alcoholic d
“Yes,” I say with a little more heat on it than I would’ve liked. “Because he believed in me. He believed I could do it.”“Okay.”“He believed in me.”“I understand.”Beat.“Can you tell me what happened after you helped him save the company?” Annie pauses to find the right words. This one I don’t want to answer but I feel like if I wiggle around it Annie will just come right back for the jugular with her follow up. I tread with caution.“Well… he got married again.”“And you?”“Yes, what about me?”“Were you in touch with him?”“Well, he had his new life. We barely kept touch.”Annie holds another of her trademark unreadable stares at me. Even though I can’t gauge the specics, I can tell there’s a lot of speculation going on. I feel theneed to add more.“Plus, we started keeping in touch again recently.” I give a little nod to punctuate my statement. I’m hoping that moved the dialon Annie’s judgment, but after a few seconds I can tell it didn’t.Annie purses her lips. “Who reached
Damien Shaw “Please, keep the investigation discreet for now,” I say firmly, meeting Gerald’s gaze. My voice is steady, but my insides churn. Gerald nods and gathers his notes before leaving my office. The door clicks shut and I sink into my seat, pinching the bridge of my nose as my temples throb. Five meetings, all back-to-back in one morning. Each one is a battlefield of strategy, damage control, and trying to piece together what the hell is happening with this damn leak. My head feels like it’s about to split open, and the office suddenly seems unbearably warm. I loosen my tie and lean back, closing my eyes for a brief moment. I need just a second—one second to breathe— My phone vibrates against the desk, shattering the silence. I grab it immediately, hoping it’s Gerald with an update, but instead, I see Imogene’s name. It’s a text: Imogene: "I don’t think therapy is good for me."My stomach twists. Therapy. The session. What happened? My thumb hovers over her nam
Damien Shaw “What else do you need me to grab? Your handbag?” I ask, watching her in the mirror as she pulls her hair up into one of those quick, messy buns that somehow still looks perfect on her.We’ve been in this house for a few days now. No noise. No schedules. Just the two of us. It’s been good but I figured she might want to stretch her wings a little. When I found out there was a small art center just half an hour from here, I booked us a private session. No people. No distractions. Just space and light and canvas.“I can grab my bag,” she says, walking to the bed where it’s tossed beside the sundress she picked earlier. It’s light yellow that ends just mid-thigh. Her bare legs steal my attention for a second longer than I mean them to.But I’m faster. I reach for the bag before she can.“You’re not allowed to carry anything,” I say, grabbing it and slinging it over my shoulder. It’s half the size of her and somehow still weighs a damn ton.She frowns at me like I’ve ju
Imogene Scott The sun is starting to go down when I wake up. The blanket is still tucked around me, and I stretch, feeling the tightness in my muscles from the nap Damien insisted I take after lunch. My body is still warm. I glance over to the clock, surprised by how much time has passed.As I sit up, Damien appears in the doorway, a small smile playing on his lips. His eyes are bright, and there’s a glint of mischief in them. He’s holding something behind his back, though I can’t tell what.“Feeling better?” he asks, his voice low, smooth. I nod slowly, still trying to shake off the drowsiness.“You wouldn’t let me sleep through the afternoon, would you?” I tease, stretching again as my arms reach above my head, my back arching. He chuckles softly, shaking his head.“I had a plan for you,” he says, stepping into the room. His smile widens. “So, I prepared a little something special for you while you were asleep.”I raise an eyebrow. “Oh really?” “Yes, really,” he says, an
Damien Shaw It’s surprising how bright the morning sun is after the heavy rain last night. I shift under the sheets and my hand reaches out instinctively, searching for Imogene, but the space beside me is empty.I sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. The house is quiet. I swing my legs over the side of the bed, the cool floor sending a slight shiver up my spine.As I step into the hallway, the aroma of fresh apples wafts through the air. I follow the scent to the dining area and find Imogene seated at the table, meticulously slicing apples into thin wedges.“Why are you doing this so early in the morning?” I ask, approaching her.She looks up, a soft smile playing on her lips. “I just crave apples.”I chuckle, “You should’ve woken me up to cut them for you.”“It’s fine,” she replies, focusing back on her task.Suddenly, her phone beeps. She sets down the knife and picks up the device, answering the incoming video call. Kia's face appears on the screen, and beside her is
Damien Shaw We go back inside after the rain. I lead Imogene to the bathroom where I prepare her a hot bath. Steam curls up from the tub as I swirl my hand through the water, checking the temperature. Not too hot. Just warm enough to soothe her bones. She stands there quietly beside me. Her lashes are still damp from the rain, and I help her out of the oversized hoodie with gentle hands. My fingers graze her shoulders, and I swear, even soaked to the skin, she glows. There’s a peace in her eyes I haven’t seen in weeks.She steps into the bath with a small sigh, like her whole body is unraveling, and I wait for a second—just watching her exhale. Then I step out, give her space. She needs this.While she soaks, I clear the chaos we left behind. Plates. Crumpled napkins. Half a pint of chocolate ice cream melting on the coffee table. The rain’s still coming down in sheets outside, thick drops racing down the windowpanes.I grab a towel, ruffle it through my hair, then toss it o
Imogene Scott I slept through the night for the first time in weeks. No jolting awake. No sweat-slicked skin. No dreams of drowning in shadows. Just silence. Stillness. Peace.My eyes open slowly, blinking into the quiet morning light spilling through the gauzy white curtains. The ocean breeze flows in from the slightly open window. My head doesn’t feel like it’s been split in two.I pull the blanket down and sit up, cradling my growing belly with both hands. The twins will be here in a few weeks. Two heartbeats fluttering beneath my skin. Two tiny souls I haven't even met, but already love with an intensity that’s terrifying and beautiful all at once.My fingers press gently into the bump. “You two are going to be okay,” I whisper. “We’re all going to be okay.”A soft smile pulls at my lips. It’s real this time. Not the kind I force at dinner tables or mirror reflections. No, this one is real.“What are you smiling about?”Damien’s voice startles me. I look up as he steps into
Damien Shaw The sun spills through the curtains as my eyes flutter open. I groan, registering the soreness in my bones. I rub at my face, letting my hand fall onto the bed beside me…It’s empty.My heart kicks up, a sudden thrum against my ribs.Imogene is not here.The sheets are still warm, faintly scented with her shampoo and her pillow’s half-squashed. She couldn’t have gone far. But still… my throat tightens as I sit up fast, pushing the blanket off. My bare feet hit the cool wood floor and I stand, eyes scanning the quiet bedroom.I don’t call out. Not yet. My gut twists like it always does when she disappears from my line of sight. I step into the hallway, and I’m immediately hit with a warm, sweet and smoky smell.Pancakes?I follow the scent into the kitchen, tension loosening slightly with each step. And then I see her.She’s standing by the stove, her back to me, swaying ever so slightly to some melody in her head. She’s barefoot, in nothing but my oversized black T-shir
Imogene Scott“Mummy, how long are you going to be gone?” Lily’s small voice floats toward me.I pause, my hand hovering over the zipper of my suitcase. The last dress is folded neatly inside and I press it down before turning to face her. She’s standing by the edge of the bed.“Mummy will be back in a few days,” I say gently, kneeling in front of her and smoothing her curls with my palm. She looks at me like she’s studying me, trying to see if I’m telling the truth or just saying what I think she wants to hear.“Will Mummy be better by then?” she asks.My breath catches.Better.I nod, brushing my thumb across her cheek.“Yes, baby. Mummy will be fine.”Lily thinks about that for a second, then smiles. “Yes, then Mummy can go. Anty Kia will take good care of me.”A soft knock sounds on the door just as I press a kiss to Lily’s forehead. Sheila steps in. “Is there anything else you want to take to the water park, Lily?” she says.Before Lily can answer, Kia walks in right behind
Imogene Scott When I open my eyes, it’s dark outside.The ceiling fan spins slowly above me. My body feels warm as I place my palm on my forehead and try to register what time it is on the wall clock across the room. But my vision’s a little blurry and I can’t make out the numbers, so I sit up instead, blinking away the sleep.I swing my legs off the bed and the cold wooden floor kisses my bare feet. I tug Damien’s hoodie tighter around me before padding to the door. I didn’t mean to sleep that long. I was just going to close my eyes for a few minutes.The hallway is dim. I make my way down slowly, hand on the banister. My joints still feel a little stiff from laying in one position for too long.When I reach the last step, I spot him.Damien’s seated at the dining table, one elbow propped up, his head resting in his palm. His hair’s tousled like he’s run his hand through it a hundred times tonight.“Hey there,” I say, softly.His head snaps up.“You’re awake?” His voice is low.
Damien Shaw I help Imogene off the examination table slowly, my hands gripping her waist. She's light and it unsettles me more than I let on. She sits up and swings her legs over the edge, her fingers resting on my forearm to steady herself."I'm okay," she says softly.She’s not. But I nod anyway. We walk out of the room together and back into the office, where Dr. Rogers is typing something into her computer. The click of the keys fills the silence.She looks up and smiles, though there's a trace of something behind her eyes. Concern, maybe. Caution."Everything looks good so far," she says. "But we’re entering the home stretch now. Just a few more weeks. You both need to be careful, especially you, Imogene."Imogene nods politely. “We will.”I thank her and reach for the door handle, ready to leave. I’m already thinking about the drive home, when Dr Rogers calls out to me. “Damien, could I speak to you for a second?”I stop and glance at Imogene.“I’ll wait in the car,” she