LOGINHarrison’s POV“Hi,” I said roughly.The visitor badge had a crease down the middle from being shoved into my jacket pocket and pulled back out too many times.I smoothed it against my thigh while I waited for the elevator, pressing the fold flat with my thumb.The cardstock had already set and the line wouldn’t go away.The laminated surface was cloudy where my thumb had worn it down over three days of this until the badge looked like something you’d find in a junk drawer.I caught my reflection in the elevator doors and glanced down at the same jacket I’d been wearing since the night I broke down Lyndsey’s door.I had the same shirt underneath, wrinkled to the point where the creases had creases and the collar was sitting wrong on one side.My hair looked like I’d been sleeping on it at odd angles, which I had—three nights in the family waiting room on a vinyl sofa designed for sitting, not sleeping, that squeaked every time I shifted position.The elevator opened and I stepped in.
Estelle’s POVI turned my chair away from the desk. My eyes found the wall and I looked at it.“Dr. Estelle? Are you still there?”“Yes,” I said. “I’m here. Sorry. Go on.”“I didn’t push him on it because he clearly didn’t want to elaborate. But he’s been quiet all morning, which, as you know, isn’t typical for Lucas. He usually has a lot to say about everything, especially anything involving beetles or seahorses or whatever his current obsession is.”“Chrysalises,” I said quietly. “He’s been on chrysalises for a couple of weeks now.”“Yes! That’s right. He did a beautiful presentation last Thursday about monarch butterflies. I meant to tell you—it was genuinely impressive. He’d made these little drawings of the stages and he…”Mrs. Falcon trailed off, as if remembering why she’d actually called. “Anyway. He’s been quiet. And he hasn’t eaten.”“Okay,” I said.“There’s something else.”I pressed two fingers against my closed left eyelid and held them there. The pressure was grounding,
Estelle’s POVMy thumb stopped moving, its pad rested on the glass, the scroll frozen mid-motion.I looked at the photograph again. Harrison’s shoulders and his jacket and the back of his head. The gravel path and the window above.I tapped the group name at the top of the screen, found settings and hurriedly tapped the leave group button.A confirmation prompt appeared—Leave “Westfield Primary Parents”?—and I tapped confirm.The chat disappeared from my messages. The photograph, the emoji, the sympathetic thinking of you, all of it—wiped in three taps.My jaw was tight while I did it, the muscles along both sides clenched hard enough to make my back teeth ache, but my hands were steady and my thumb moved fast and I didn’t hesitate on any of the screens.I dropped the phone into my bag, started the engine, and pulled out of the car park.I set my bag under the desk as soon as I arrived at the clinic, hung my coat on the hook behind the door, and sat down.The computer screen was alrea
Estelle’s POVThe engine was off.My hands sat on the steering wheel at ten and two, gripping nothing, driving nowhere.Around me the car park filled the way it always did: a silver car pulling into the space two down from mine, a woman in a puffy jacket wrestling a booster seat, three boys sprinting across the tarmac while their mother shouted something about not running that none of them heard.An ordinary Tuesday morning performing its ordinary Tuesday rituals, and I was sitting inside it like something sealed behind glass.“—and then Sophie said that seahorses don’t actually change color, but Lucas said they do, and I said I’d ask you because you’re a doctor so you’d know, right?” Chloe said from the backseat. “Mama? Do seahorses change color?”“Mmhm,” I said.“Mama, that’s not an answer. Do they or don’t they?”“Sorry, what?”“Seahorses,” Chloe said impatiently. “Do they change color? Because Sophie says—”“Some of them can, yes.”“Ha! I knew it. Sophie’s wrong. Can I tell her yo
Estelle’s POVThe conversation got quieter after that. Softer at the edges.Daisy told me about a woman at her office who had accidentally replied-all to an email complaining about the CEO and the fallout had consumed the entire week.I half-listened, nodding in the right places, grateful for the sound of her voice filling the space where my own thoughts would otherwise have rushed in.Around eleven she moved to the sofa.I found her a blanket—the one I’d folded earlier, the one from Chloe’s fort—and she pulled it over her legs and kicked off the mismatched socks.“Turn off that light,” she said, squinting at the kitchen overhead. “It’s giving me a headache.”I flipped the switch. The kitchen dropped into darkness, leaving only the hallway light and the faint glow from Chloe’s nightlight leaking under the bedroom door.“Better,” Daisy mumbled, already burrowing into the sofa cushions.I picked up both mugs and carried them to the sink. Rinsed them. Set them on the drying rack. Hung th
Estelle’s POVI opened my mouth.I closed it.I reached for the mug of cold tea and picked it up. Held it between both hands without lifting it to my lips.My fingers pressed against the ceramic, feeling the room-temperature surface where the heat had long since drained away.I looked at Daisy. At the counter. At the phone lying face-down on the wood.My fingers tightened on the mug handle and I set it down again, carefully, lining the handle up with the edge of the counter as if the alignment mattered.Daisy watched me do this and said nothing.If Chloe were the baby in that hospital right now, I would already be in my car.I wouldn’t have paused long enough to text anyone. I wouldn’t have stood at this counter deliberating about whether to respond.I’d have gone. Instantly, without reservation, without caring who was waiting at the other end or what it looked like or what anyone thought about it.That’s what Harrison had done tonight.I didn’t say any of that. I sat at the table and
Estelle’s POVNobody moved. Nobody breathed. Karl stared at Harrison and Harrison stared at Karl and I stood between them gripping the doorframe, and the flowers lay scattered across the hallway carpet looking absurd and cheerful while the three of us stood there frozen above them.“What the hell is
Estelle’s POVHarrison moved instantly, bending to pick it up at the same moment I did, and we nearly cracked heads, both of us crouching beside the exam table, his hand closing over mine on the otoscope.I couldn’t move. His fingers against mine sent a jolt up my arm and I just crouched there, froz
Estelle’s POVPasta. I had pasta, a jar of tomatoes, garlic, onion, and enough basil to make it taste good.“Can we help?” Chloe was already pulling a chair to the counter. “I want to measure the pasta.”“Me too!” Lucas scrambled up beside her. “What can I do?”“Chloe, you’re on pasta duty. Lucas, y
Harrison’s POVI looked at Chloe sleeping and I wanted to ask the question that had been sitting in me for months, pressing against my teeth every time I saw her.I’d watched Estelle during dinner. The way she’d reached over and shown Lucas how to twist his fork, patient and gentle, her hand coveri







