LOGINDamien “Have you been following me?” she asked out of breath. “Because this isn’t the right time or place—“ “It’s important that we talk.” I paused, then added. “Please.” Callie gave me a hard stare. Her friend Clara shifted beside her, already bristling, ready to throw me out. But my eyes were on Callie. She didn't speak right away. Her gaze flicked to the boy in the bed. Cassian. His small chest rose and fell in the steady rhythm of sleep, oblivious to the tension that had just walked into his hospital room. Then her eyes came back to me, and whatever softness might have been there a moment ago was gone. She crossed the room toward me. When she reached me, she didn't stop until there was barely a foot between us. "Outside," she said in a low, controlled voice. She was barely keeping herself together. And I was starting to doubt the timing of it all. But it couldn't wait. Not when I kept feeling a constant dread that she could vanish at any time. The corridor was qui
Callie Life was taking its worst toll on me. And I had this deep sense of fear growing in me that this wasn't going to be the last time I would be hurrying on an unexpected trip to the hospital. The ride was a blur of moving cars and honking horns, all happening around me as the sharp sting of panic clawed its way up my throat like bile. My mind was hardly focused the entire journey there. Luckily, I wasn't alone, and Clara was driving. I felt like I had been holding my breath, and I had only realised it until we went through the hospital doors. My legs carried me quickly to the receptionist. I could barely contain the panic in my voice.“We’re here for Cassian Rivera. He’s four—he was just brought in from Little Oaks Daycare.”The words spilt from me like I was reading off a script, and I had no idea what was going to happen next. Clara clutched her phone like a lifeline, hovering protectively beside me, but there was nothing left for her to do. Nothing either of us could do exce
Damien The hum of city traffic passed in a blur outside the tinted windows, but I wasn’t looking. My gaze was fixed on the tablet in my hand, eyes narrowed at the highlighted clause on the acquisition paperwork —again. I’d read it five times already. Even Anderson, in all his doggedness, hadn't realised this tiny mistake. He was still on the other end, waiting for the signatures and the go-ahead.I leaned back against the leather seat, jaw clenched. The driver took a right turn, quiet as always. Emma’s daycare was a few minutes away now.I’d promised her I would pick her up early today, take her for ice cream at the park, and be the “fun uncle” she'd always thought I was. But the deeper I got into this mess, the more it felt like I was standing in front of a door with too many hidden truths waiting to burst through.And one of them looked a hell of a lot like a boy with dark curls and familiar eyes.I closed the tablet and exhaled sharply. I shouldn't go there. Not yet. There was no
Callie I was at Clara's apartment helping her pack her things. The sound of packing tape ripping across cardboard had become the new soundtrack and gradually the place was starting to look emptier, less lived in. Boxes lined the living room like tired soldiers, each one labeled in Clara’s neat handwriting — Kitchen, Donate, Storage. The air smelled faintly of old takeout, dust, and the lemon cleaner Clara always used when she was stressed.“You sure you don’t want to keep this one?” I held up a ridiculous gold cat figurine, its paw frozen mid-wave.Clara shot me a look over her shoulder. “That thing? Absolutely not. It creeps me out.”I grinned and carefully tucked it into the Donate box anyway. “Someone out there’s going to love it.”She laughed softly, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. The moment passed, and I glanced toward the window. The late afternoon sun cast pale light across the floor, and I felt a strange tightness in my chest, like we were packing up something more than
Damien Emma was watching one particular cartoon show for the third time in a row.I had no clue what was going on. The characters sang too much, and every ten minutes, she turned around with wide eyes like I was supposed to be following along. Every time she did that, I gave her a half-smile and nodded.She seemed content enough. Cross-legged on my living room rug, surrounded by a graveyard of juice boxes, cracker crumbs, and that stuffed blue unicorn she wouldn’t let out of her sight.This wasn’t exactly how I pictured my Tuesday night.I scrubbed a hand down my face and leaned back into the couch. Work had been a mess of meetings and half-answered emails. Anderson was hounding me about final signatures on the Sweet Haven acquisition, and I hadn’t even touched the file since the last time I opened it. And that was also the day I saw his name on her profile.Cassian. Her son.I still hadn’t decided what to do with that information. It sat in my chest like a stone, heavy and unmoving
DamienI hadn’t stopped thinking about that file since the moment I closed it.It was the kind of thing that settled in your head. Quiet, but sharp. Every time I tried to move on, it was there again. And of all the things I'd found out, the most jarring was that she'd had a son.Cassian.The name stuck with me, like a distant memory. I'd never imagined Callie as a mother, but now that she was one, it seemed like a perfectly normal thing to hear.And about her being unmarried, I didn’t know what exactly I was feeling. I was angry, sure. She’d lied to my face. Played along when I assumed she had a husband. I thought all this while that she'd been trying to make me feel like the villain in our story, but she hadn't actually done anything. Everything I'd felt was of my own accord. Maybe she was right to keep her life under wraps, away from me.But there was this other thing —something heavier. Guilt, maybe. Or just confusion that had curdled into frustration.She had left me. Vanished. An
Callie I was back in this cold, lifeless conference room, but this time it was with Clara and Nadia by my side. We were the last holdouts— the only business unwilling to sell or agree to any of their terms. So, here we were, just us, against a legal team of five. All men. Typical. They were sha
Callie The “Closed for Renovations” sign hung crooked in the front door, a silent nod to a truth I hadn’t yet said aloud. It was easier than “Closed Forever.” Less final. Clara stood on a step stool by the pantry shelves, pulling down the last of the bulk containers and calling out over her sh
Damien Anderson was the first person to come into my office that morning. He walked with a gait that was much too funky for his age, and he had a smug look on his face. I hadn’t signed the documents yet —not until I reviewed the case owner profiles. From the looks of it, he was walking in with
Callie Life had a way of going on as if things were normal. As if the past week hadn't been terrible for us. People moving about their normal businesses, the sun still rising and setting despite the emotional turmoil we’d been facing. It was in the small things, like the hum of the fridge,







