Chapter 5: THE SHOCKWAVES

At Karyn’s Restaurant, sunlight streamed through the large windows, casting a soft golden glow over the table where Sydney sat with Derek and Michaela. 

The late afternoon air was warm and laced with the scent of fresh bread and roasted herbs. Michaela, legs swinging beneath her seat, focused intently on the colouring page given to her by the waitress.

Derek watched them both, a bittersweet ache twisting in his chest. 

Michaela didn’t recognize him; she had only ever heard his voice over phone calls and video chats from overseas. Now, she sat across from him, a little older, a little wiser, and already trying to navigate the harsh realities of childhood.

As they waited for their order, the conversation drifted into deeper waters.

“Michaela needed a father figure,” Sydney said softly, her voice laced with determination. “She was being bullied at school. Some of the kids said things… cruel things.”

Derek looked down at his hands, the words catching in his throat.

“I couldn’t bear to see her come home in tears every day,” Sydney continued, eyes distant. “It broke something in me. All I want is for her to be like the other kids. To feel safe. To feel... normal.”

Her voice cracked slightly, and she took a slow breath before whispering, “For her, I would do anything.”

Derek still didn’t speak. He couldn’t. The lump in his throat was too big, too raw. He silently cursed himself for being too late, for never saying the words when it mattered.

Finally, he managed, “But… a marriage of convenience? Sydney, why marry someone you don’t love?”

Sydney hesitated. Her lips parted to answer—

“He…”

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Bzzzz.

Her phone vibrated sharply against the polished wooden table, interrupting her mid-sentence. The screen lit up with an unknown number.

She blinked down at it, unsure whether to answer.

Derek looked at her curiously. “Are you going to get that?”

Sydney stared for another heartbeat before murmuring, “It's an unknown number; I don't know who it is.”

She picked up the phone slowly and answered.

“Hello, Sydney. It’s Zeke.”

“Zeke?” she echoed, even though she already knew who it was the moment he said his name.

“Yes… Grace’s son.”

He didn’t say “your husband”. He couldn’t. The words stuck like thorns in his throat, so he took the safer route, the distant one.

“Oh, Zeke,” she said, keeping her voice neutral.

“I didn’t get your number earlier. My mom sent it. I was going to text, but then I figured you wouldn’t have my number saved… So I thought a call might be better.”

Sydney’s eyes briefly met Derek’s, who politely looked away, feigning interest in the street outside the restaurant window.

“Is everything okay?” she asked softly.

Zeke hesitated before answering, as though swallowing down his pride. “Yeah… I just… Tomorrow’s Friday, and I was wondering if you would need help packing. You and your daughter.”

The way he said it sounded almost like an obligation dressed up as a casual offer. He wouldn’t directly say he wanted to come over; he needed her to invite him.

“That wouldn’t be necessary,” she replied gently. “You must be busy with work, and I wouldn’t want to be a burden.”

Zeke went quiet for a moment.

Sydney wasn’t trying to shut him out, she had just learned to survive alone. Since her stepmother and uncles threw her out with nothing but a growing belly and a heart full of shame, she had carried her world on her own shoulders. 

She rented her own apartment. She saw her sister through school and also raising her daughter. She built her business from the ground up because no one would hire a pregnant girl. 

She didn’t ask for help anymore, not because she didn’t need it, but because she had learned not to expect it.

“Okay,” Zeke said dryly. “I will come on Saturday morning, then. Just send me the time and address.”

She was about to respond when a voice in the background broke the quiet.

“Syd, raise your hand.”

It was Derek, helping her adjust her position so the waiter could drop the tray. The tone was innocent, but the timing was damning.

Zeke froze. His grip on the phone tightened. A man’s voice? With her?

Sydney, sensing the pause, quickly said, “Okay, I will text it to you.”

There was a long silence.

“Is there anything else?” she asked gently.

Click.

Zeke hung up.

His jaw clenched as he lowered the phone, a strange fire curling in his chest. He told himself it was nothing, maybe a customer, maybe a friend. She was allowed to have a life… right?

But still, the image of her sitting across from a man; laughing, talking, being comfortable, unsettled him. He didn’t want her. That’s what he told himself.

But she was his wife now.

At least for the next year.

And if she was going to live under his roof, he would be damned if another man tried to slip into the picture, even if he claimed not to care.

“I'm guessing that's your husband,” Derek asked softly, his voice calm but edged with anger beneath. 

Sydney acknowledged with a nod, not meeting his gaze. She didn't offer an explanation. Instead, she turned back to the table and began cutting Michaela’s food into smaller bites, setting the fork in her daughter’s tiny hand with quiet focus.

They finished their meal with scattered words and long stretches of silence. When they stepped outside, the sun was already beginning to dip behind the city skyline. Derek offered her a ride, and she didn’t refuse.

He dropped them off at her store.

“I will see you around,” he said as Michaela hopped out of the car.

Sydney nodded again, managing a tired smile as she helped her daughter down. “Thanks for lunch.”

He watched them walk into the store, a hollow ache settling in his chest. She was slipping further away, and she wasn’t even trying to hold on.

As the door to the shop closed behind them, Derek drove off without a word.

Sydney kept the store open for another hour past closing time. A few customers came for late pickups; she never turned them away. 

Business was business, and every cent mattered.

When the last customer left and the shutters came down, she pulled out her phone and sent a text to Helena:

Come to the house at noon tomorrow. I have something to discuss with you.