Chapter 9

THEA

My breath catches mid-throat. My heart stumbles.

No.

No.

No.

I blink once. Then again, hoping maybe it’s a trick of the light or a coincidence, maybe someone who just looks like him. Like them.

But the longer I stare, the clearer they become.

Sebastian. Claire.

And Finn.

They're sitting together at the far table, a picture-perfect image of a family I used to belong to. My family.

My chest tightens, pain flaring behind my ribs like I'd been hit.

I need to leave. Now.

The little calm I managed to scavenge from today disintegrates. My fingers tighten around the cup of mint chocolate, my legs already angling toward the exit, but God, I hate this part of me, there’s that damned voice in my head whispering Don’t run. Don’t give them that power. Don’t let them dictate where you can or can’t be.

But I want to bolt. Desperately.

Still, I turn toward the door. And place a foot forward.

And then—

Crash.

My hip knocks into one of the high stools by the barista’s stand. It topples over with a loud clang that echoes off the café walls. Conversations freeze. Every single head turns in my direction.

Including theirs.

Heat crawls up my neck like I'd been burnt. I want the floor to swallow me whole.

And then—

“Mom?”

My heart thumps at the sound of his voice.

Finn.

I turn to his direction.

He’s already off his chair, chocolate-stained mouth parting in surprise, eyes wide with recognition and… hope?

“Mom!” he calls again, louder this time. His little legs move fast, already closing the distance.

I glance at the door. I could still make it. Just turn and leave.

But what would that make me?

The woman who couldn’t even face her own child?

No.

So I force my lips into something vaguely resembling a smile and slowly crouch down to meet him halfway as he flings himself into my arms.

His tiny hands wrap tightly around my neck. I inhale shakily, burying my nose in his soft curls, blinking fast against the sudden sting in my eyes.

He still smells like home.

“I missed you,” he murmurs into my ear. “You really came back just like daddy said.”

Before I can answer, I hear Sebastian’s voice behind him. Steady. Unsure. 

Sucks that I can still read him just with his voice.

“Thea.”

I rise slowly, one arm still around Finn, the other holding the now half-spilled cup of ice cream like it’s a lifeline.

Sebastian looks like he’s seen a ghost.

Claire looks like she swallowed something bitter.

I almost laughed.

But instead, I straighten my spine, brush a hand through Finn’s curls, and meet their gaze with the calmest mask I can manage even though I'm starting to consider leaving this city.

"Hi."

I say, staring right at the woman who made me the other woman in my own home. And I don't even hate her.

She stands behind him, hands crossed on her chest, trying to school her face into something neutral but fails miserably as the air radiates with an awkward tension. 

She forces a tight smile. “We weren’t expecting you,” she says, voice high and thin like stretched plastic. Like she’s trying too hard to sound calm. “What a… surprise.”

I don’t say anything. Just hold Finn a little closer and try to slow the pounding in my chest.

Claire’s eyes flick to where my hand is curled around Finn’s back. I see the flicker in her expression. 

I don't know what she’s thinking.

And I don't want to know.

Since I still can't believe that this is the woman who used to be part of my picture.

The woman I pay every month just so she could give my son warmth until I'm back. 

The woman I didn't know had given herself a promotion to being my hus… ex-husband's bed warmer. The submissive partner that has to rely on him just to caress the one masculine bone and ego left in him.

“I was just leaving,” I murmur.

I rub Finn's head one last time and try to step back when Claire suddenly speaks again. “Oh, don’t leave because of us. You should sit with us,” she says softly and turns to him, “Right, Sebastian?”

Before I can refuse, Finn looks up at me with big eyes, grinning from ear to ear, excitement in his eyes as he clings to my hand, “Yes mom! Sit with us!”

I swallow hard.

I don’t want to sit.

Not with them. Not like this.

But how do I say no to him?

How do I say no when he's clinging to my hand like he's afraid I'll vanish if he lets go?

So I nod.

We walk back to the table, and I take the seat at the edge while Finn climbs in beside me.

I place my cup of mint chocolate on the table and scoop a spoon into my nouth. It’s half-melted now. Tastes like nothing.

I feel like I’m wearing my skin wrong.

Like everyone’s watching me, judging me, trying to figure out what happened between the lines.

I glance at Finn, taking his chocolate ice-cream, blissfully unaware of the minefield he'd plopped me into. But then, why would he know?

To him, I know I look like the one who left. The one who gave up. And I can’t even explain why. I can’t tell him about betrayal, or pain, or how sometimes love isn’t enough to stay.

Because saying that would feel like turning him against his father.

And I can’t do that. No matter how much it hurts.

So I keep quiet.

And I smile through it.

I tell myself it’s okay if he hates me now, as long as he understands one day.

I’m still trying to swallow that ache and shrug off the awkwardness on the table when Finn suddenly grins up at me, his little voice bright and loud.

“Daddy said I’ll be getting a sister soon!” He says before pouting. “I’ve been asking you for one for so long and you didn’t give me.”

The spoon trembles in my hand.

But I won't drop it.

I force a smile and blink quickly, blinking back the tears that threaten to fall.

“That's good.” I say, turning to him with a smile. “You should give her a beautiful name, okay?” 

He nods wildly.

I turn back to Sebastian.

How many months gone? I want to ask.

But instead, I say, “I'm so happy for you two.”

And it’s the biggest lie I’ve ever told.

Because inside, everything aches.

And inside, I'm conflicted.

I'm happy that Finn got what I couldn't give him because of my career but…

It sucks—God, it sucks—knowing he moved on so fast, while I’m still here, standing in the ruins, clinging to hope like it’s something sacred. Like maybe if I just held on long enough, something would make sense again.

But it doesn’t.

It never did.

“I should get going,” I murmur, brushing a kiss to Finn’s cheek and memorizing the way he beams up at me like I’m still his whole world. Like it’s still the three of us. Like this table isn’t proof that everything’s changed.

“I’ll see you later, baby.”

And I stand. Slowly. With all the grace I can summon. My legs feel hollow, but I don’t let them shake.

I walk toward the door unhurried, my back straight, my face calm.

Because I won’t break here.

Not in front of them.

Not in front of her.

But the second I step out, the air hits me like a slap. I shiver, hands shaking.

And I run.

I run like if I move fast enough, I can escape the pain pressing against my chest. Like I can leave the ache behind, scattered on the sidewalk like broken glass.

But it follows.

It always does.

Because heartbreak doesn’t shout, it sinks. Quiet and sharp, curling around your lungs until every breath feels like a war. It’s the lump in your throat you can’t swallow, the sting in your eyes you pretend is just the wind.

It’s knowing you were easy to replace.

It’s realizing the man who once kissed your forehead like a vow now kisses someone else like it means nothing.

It’s knowing you’ll go home to silence while he goes home to her.

And all you can do is run.

Run until your legs give out.

Until the street blurs.

Until the ache becomes something you can swallow without choking on it.

Because the truth is…

You’re not just mourning a man.

You’re mourning the woman you used to be when he still loved you.