Glass Houses

Evelyn's POV 

The hospital cafeteria was quiet at that hour. Most of the chairs were empty. A cleaner pushed a mop along the far wall, and the overhead light buzzed in a way that made everything feel a little unreal.

I had bought a coffee I wasn't going to drink and found a corner table. My coat was still on. My head was still full.

"Can I sit?"

I looked up.

Sylvia stood across the table from me, her rolling suitcase parked beside her, a bottle of water in her hand. She was not smiling. She was not cold either. She just looked tired.

"Yes," I said.

She sat. She opened her water and took a long drink. I wrapped both hands around my coffee cup and waited.

"How is she really?" Sylvia asked.

"Stable. Two broken ribs, a fractured wrist. She was lucky."

"Yes." She stared at the table. "She is."

More quiet. The mop squeaked across the floor.

"How long are you back for?" I asked.

"I don't know yet. I was in between projects when Francis called." She finally looked at me properly. "I wasn't going to come but  then I thought about Mom lying in a hospital and I couldn't not come."

"I understand."

"Do you?" The question wasn't aggressive. It sounded almost genuine.

"I understand choosing family even when it's hard," I said. "Yes."

She looked away again. Her jaw was tight. I could see the effort it was taking her to sit at this table and not say the things she clearly wanted to say.

"Eight years," she said finally.

"Yes."

"I left because of what you did, Evelyn. I need you to know I haven't forgotten that."

"I know." My voice was quiet. "I'm not asking you to forget."

"Then what are you asking?"

"Nothing. I'm not asking for anything." I pushed the coffee away. "I spent years wishing I could go back and choose differently but I can't because it seems late already . Moreover, I'm not going to sit here and beg for forgiveness you have every right to withhold."

She stared at me. The tension around her mouth shifted slightly.

"You've changed," she said.

"Eight years will do that."

"The Evelyn I knew would have cried by now and tried to explain everything."

"The Evelyn you knew was still hoping that enough explaining would fix things." I met her eyes. "The Evelyn , seated right before you, stopped hoping a long time ago."

Something moved across her face that I couldn't name. Not sympathy though but something softer than what she had walked in with.

"Anthony doesn't know I'm here," she said.

My breath held.

"I didn't call him," she added. "I'm not here for him."

"Okay."

"I mean it, Evelyn. I came for Mom. That's all."

"I heard you."

She stood, picking up her water. "I'll be at the family house while I'm in Harlow. I don't expect us to be friends but I also don't want to fight every time we're in the same room. Mom doesn't need that."

"Agreed."

She picked up her suitcase handle, then paused. "For what it's worth... I heard the divorce went through."

"It did."

"I'm sorry," she said, and she looked like she meant it. "Not for the marriage ending, but for the years you spent in it."

She walked away before I could respond.

I sat there for a long time. My untouched coffee grew cold. The cleaner finished the floor and left.

Then my phone buzzed again. Same unknown number.

The new message was longer this time.

"What you did eight years ago was not your secret alone. The night everything changed, there was someone else in that room. Someone you have never considered. Someone who made sure things went the way they did and that person is still very close to you."

My chair scraped back as I stood up.

My hands were firm but my mind was already fainting.

I stared at the words on the screen until they blurred, and one question pounded in my chest loud enough to drown out every other thought.

Who else was in that room eight years ago, and why were they only speaking now?