Chapter 2

Josephine hadn't expected Julie to ask that, not so suddenly.

Looking into Julie's bright, clear eyes, she froze.

It hit Josephine then—her daughter, worn thin from years of heart problems, was already six.

Julie was small for her age, but still old enough to start sensing things. Old enough to feel the quiet absence of a father and realize, slowly, that the line Josephine always used—"Daddy went somewhere far away"—was a gentle lie that no longer held up.

There was a photo of her and Julian in a drawer.

Julie had seen it once.

Josephine hadn't thought a child so young would remember.

It was from her high school years—a photo of the top three students in the class. She had cut the third person out.

She never imagined that someday, in this very city, she would cross paths with Julian—this time with a little girl in tow.

The bus lurched. The driver hit the brakes hard.

Josephine pitched forward, instinctively pulling Julie close to protect her. After a few stunned seconds, she said, "No. He's not."

"But that doctor looked just like Daddy," Julie said.

Josephine was silent for a beat. "He just looks like him, that's all…"

They returned home.

Josephine knocked on the downstairs door of Stella Locke's apartment. The old woman lived alone, known around the complex for her eccentric temper.

Two years ago, when Josephine was dealing with issues enrolling Julie in kindergarten, she had met Oliver Locke by chance.

Oliver's father had been gravely ill, on the verge of passing. Oliver wanted to get married fast, so his father could see him with a wife before the end. It would be a quick marriage, followed by a quick divorce, as he was about to be transferred abroad for work.

Josephine, needing to get Julie registered for kindergarten, agreed. They married in a hurry, divorced just as fast, and the paperwork got done.

His father passed away that same night.

Stella had been furious when she found out about the marriage and divorce, but she also knew her son's heart had been in the right place. Oliver's father had left with no regrets. After the divorce, Oliver went abroad for work, leaving Stella alone.

Seeing Josephine raising Julie by herself, Stella offered her the attic apartment upstairs.

Josephine paid rent, fair and square.

Then one day, Stella choked on a handful of nuts. Josephine had been there and saved her.

After that, things between them softened.

The apartment was old and small—a two-story unit in a building with no elevator and no shared amenities. Rent was cheap. Stella lived downstairs.

Upstairs, there were two small rooms and a narrow terrace. Josephine lived there with Julie. It had its own entrance.

In the kitchen, Josephine began preparing lunch. She had some precooked meatballs in the freezer, ready to boil. In no time, they were done.

Stella shuffled into the kitchen.

"Julie's grown up. Don't wait too long to get the surgery done. If you don't have the money, I'll give it to you. Just take it as a loan."

Josephine knew Stella had some savings. But those were her emergency funds, what she might need if something happened—at her age, anything could happen.

Josephine was deeply grateful for the offer. But she still said no.

…

That afternoon, Josephine arrived at the fifteenth floor of Dalence Ave—L&M Design Studio.

She had just stepped in when her coworker, Carrie Mills, walked over.

"Josephine, Myra wants to see you in her office."

Myra Moore was the lead designer… and Josephine's immediate superior.

When Josephine knocked and entered the office, Myra was still on the phone. She glanced at Josephine and motioned for her to wait. Josephine lowered her gaze and checked the time on her watch.

Thirteen minutes passed before Myra finally ended the call.

"The client rejected the last round of drafts," she said. "Revise them. I want the new version on my desk before next week. The designs were too safe. They don't stand out. Add something bolder—quirky elements, polka dots, dark embroidery, that sort of thing."

"Myra, the Terriwyn brand is built on elegance and poise. It's targeted at women over thirty. Our designs reflect feedback from both sales and marketing…"

"Are you the lead designer, or am I?" Myra cut her off with a glance.

Josephine returned to her desk.

She explained the new direction to her team. A collective groan rose from the group. Marianne Blake, who sat across from her, frowned.

"Seriously? Is she out of her mind? Polka dots and embroidered dresses? Plus, dark embroidery? The brand's whole identity is about quiet elegance and grace. Her taste is really questionable."

"We're the ones who suffer for her bad taste," someone muttered. "We always end up fixing her mess."

"Still, I heard Fleuris City Fashion Media is interviewing her this Saturday," another said. "It's that 'Rising Stars in Design' feature. Glitz and glam, all the usual stuff."

"Her dad’s a retired general. Pure military brass. Old-money power, the kind that gets buildings named after them. This lead designer gig at L&M is just a game for her. Even one of the partners here, Mr. Willis, is part of her social circle."

"Keep your voices down," someone warned.

Josephine worked late into the evening.

Her daughter, Julie, video-called her through Stella's phone to let her know she'd already had dinner.

As Carrie walked past, she leaned down and greeted Julie on the screen, then walked away in quiet amazement. They'd worked together for three years, and even now, people were still stunned to learn Josephine had a six-year-old daughter.

Josephine's youthful face seemed far too beautiful, delicate, and fresh. She looked like she'd just graduated from university, not like someone who had a six-year-old child.

Carrie patted her shoulder. "Alright, go home and be with your girl. We'll wrap up in another half hour."

By the time Josephine's phone rang again, she was already on the subway.

She figured it was a message from her daughter. Instead, it was from an old high school mate.

Josephine had kept none of her old contacts. She had cut ties with everything from her past. There was only one person from that time she still kept in touch with.

A long voice message came in from Queenie Jenkins.

Josephine tapped "Convert to Text."

"Your class is planning a reunion. The class rep, Sean, couldn't find you and somehow tracked me down instead. I told him I had no idea where you were. But do you know what people are saying now? That you're dead. No kidding. But honestly, even if you showed up now, they probably wouldn't recognize you. You're thin and gorgeous, totally different from how you used to be."

Phoebe had become a ghost. She'd vanished for seven years.

Josephine sat still for a few moments, then replied, "Let them believe Phoebe is dead."

No one had ever really liked Phoebe. Not even Josephine herself.

She had changed her name and severed ties with her past because she wanted to leave that version of herself behind.

Another message came in from Queenie.

"I heard… just a rumor… but Julian might be going too. Apparently, he's back in the country. You thinking of going? I mean, looking like you do now, he probably wouldn't even recognize you."

Queenie had been in the class next door at her high school. They had stayed loosely in touch over the years. Josephine had even attended her wedding.

Queenie hadn't recognized Josephine at first either. She was shocked that the overweight girl she once knew had become so gorgeous.

Josephine's fingers paused over the screen, eyes resting on Julian's name.

She wanted to tell Queenie the truth, that she had already seen Julian.

Instead, she typed two words: [Not going.]