Chapter Four.

"...Dad?”

Young Nora’s voice was small, almost swallowed by the vast, open air of the road. The figure ahead was a blur of shadows, but a frantic pull in her chest- a desperate, aching hope- convinced her it was him. It had to be him. She couldn’t remember his face, but she remembered the feeling of safety, and she chased it.

The figure didn’t turn as she called out again, voice a little louder. She took a tentative step forward, then another until she was close enough to touch him. Just as her fingertips were about to brush his shirt, he jerked into motion.

“Dad? Dad, wait!”

She sprinted after him, her small legs working double the time to match his long strides. The road was unfamiliar, lined with skeletal trees that looked daunting to her young self. In her blind haste, her shoe caught on a jagged stone and she went down hard, the grit of the road biting into her palms and knees.

“Dad! Please! Wait!”

The figure paused. For a single heartbeat, he glanced back -a faceless profile-before disappearing around a sharp bend.

“No!” she scrambled to her feet, her knees stinging as they bled, tears blurring her surroundings. She went to run after him, but a wall of a man stepped into her path.

A vice-like grip on her forearm kept her in place when she tried to move around the man.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

A shiver of pure dread raced down her spine. She didn’t need to see the ace to know the voice. She looked up into the hard, impassive eyes of her stepfather.

His grip tightened when there was no response, his fingers digging into her skin. “I asked where you were going.”

“I... my dad. He was right there…” she pointed weakly towards the bend.

He didn’t scream. He didn’t even look angry. He simply let out a short, dry chuckle that somehow felt worse. “Your dad?”

Nora twisted, trying to wrench her arm free, but it was futile.

“You really are pathetic, Nora,” his voice dropping to a calm cynical low. “Your father is lost. He chose to go. I bet he let the sickness take him just to get away from you.”

“No..he…he was right there..”

“He left because he didn’t want you. Just like I don’t want you.” He shoved her arm away.

Nora stumbled back, her head shaking in a frantic no, retreating until her back hit something cold and hard. But it wasn’t a tree. It was the floral wallpaper of their kitchen back in Pittsburgh. The mist was gone, replaced by the low hum of the old refrigerator.

She wasn’t eight anymore. She was fifteen, then twenty, all at once.

Her stepfather now stood by the kitchen table, looking at her with a weary sort of pity. “Look at you. Still struggling to make people stay.” He took a step forward, coming to stand behind the chair where her mother sat, silently watching the scene unfold.

“No one wants a burden, Nora. Your mother didn’t. I didn’t. and now…”

He leaned over the chair, his voice a whisper, “Even Ethan finally figured it out. He’s gone Nora. And this time, there isn’t a script you can write that can make him come back.” He didn’t laugh, just watched her with a terrible knowing smile.

Nora jerked upright in bed, a strangled gasp escaping her throat. Her cheeks were wet, and her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

The room was bathed in the soft, pale light of dawn. She wasn’t in Pittsburgh; she was in her multimillion-dollar home. But as she looked at the empty side of the bed, the final words from the dream ringing in her head.

He’s gone.

And the time on the alarm let her know it has been five days, fourteen hours, and thirty-six minutes. The count was precise, an obsessive tally she couldn’t stop running in the back of her mind. It was the longest stretch of silence they had since they met on a rainy afternoon in Paris nearly seven years ago.

She stumbled into their ensuite bathroom, pausing to look at the reflection in the mirror. Her skin was sallow, and the skin beneath her eyes had bruised into dark, heavy bags. Dried-up tears formed white streaks on her cheeks.

Separation. The word had managed to unlock every door she thought she’d locked. She had spent her entire adult life vowing never to be the weak woman her stepfather had predicted—the one who would be discarded, the one who wasn't worth the effort. But it was impossible to be strong in her sleep. In the dark, the armor fell away, leaving her as that trembling ten-year-old still at his mercy.

She reached for the faucet, splashing freezing water onto her face. She refused to look like the victim of her own story.

He was gone, yes. But 'gone' didn't have to be permanent. 'Gone' was just a plot point she hadn't resolved yet.

…

Nora was still thinking of how to get her life back in control as she walked behind the waiter, leading her to Camila’s table in the back of the restaurant.

Despite her elaborate disguise and the distance, Camila still recognized her and sent an enthusiastic wave their way.

“Hi!” Camila gave her a fierce hug and kiss on the cheek.

“I can’t believe you actually made me leave the comfort of my home knowing the risk involved,” Nora said as she scanned the room.

“Oh, hush, you’ll be fine. You look like a glamorous spy, so stop acting like you’re a fugitive,” Camila chirped before turning to the waiter, “we’re ready for our order, thank you!”

The restaurant was a hidden gem in the west village-dimly lit with warm amber tones and spaced-out tables that whispered privacy. They were tucked into a corner of the intimate back dining area. Aside from an elderly couple and a pair of businessmen deep in hushed conversation, they were alone.

Nora waited for the waiter to leave before peeling off her large sunglasses covering half her face and adjusting the scarf knotted under her chin. “I feel like a fugitive.”

“Well, you’re a fashionable one. But something does seem fishy to me, cause why has this thing not died out yet? I mean, with both yours and Ethan's influence, it should be a thing of the past.” Camila rambled as Nora nibbled on the complimentary bread in the basket on the table.

“I thought the same thing too.. Anyway, forget about me. How’s work?” Nora asked, trying to shift the topic from her.

“Oh, work is fine. My boss is still the devil, and we have a new client who’s annoying as hell. But,” she waved a dismissive hand, “I’ll handle it. Positivity is a lifestyle.” The last line was a quote from her favorite podcast.

They fell into a comfortable rhythm as the food arrived—poached eggs with hollandaise for Camila, and a simple omelet for Nora. They were silent as they ate, but Nora could feel Camila’s gaze on her.

“Spit it out.” She said, looking up.

Camila’s cheeks heated at being caught, but she didn’t shy away. Voice soft, she asked, “Any update from Ethan since he left?”

Nora poked at her omelet. She had told Camila about her fight with Ethan and the issues they had been having for a while. “No, and I don’t blame him.”

“He loves you, Nora,” Camila insisted. “You just need to show him you do too.”

“That’s the problem,” Nora muttered, a surge of frustration bubbling up. “I don’t know how to do that. I have no plan. I’m sitting here eating eggs when I should be at home, coming up with something. I feel like I’m wasting time.”

Camila reached across the table, squeezing Nora’s hand. “Two heads are always better than one. I’ll help you think of something. You needed to leave the house; staying cooped up at home isn’t going to help you. Staring at the same four walls must be depressing; you need a change of environment. And time spent with me is never a waste.”

Nora froze, a light bulb turning on above her head.

Change of environment.

The phrase echoed in her head, and she saw the rain-slicked streets of the Rive Gauche. She heard the low hum of a Parisian café and the sound of Ethan’s laughter.

If the environment were the problem, she wouldn't just change the state. She would change the country. She would take him back to the "pilot episode" of their life together, where the script was still perfect.

A slow smile spread across her face as the plan played out in her mind's eye.

“See?” Camila smiled back, unaware of the plan brewing. “You’re already feeling better.”

Nora nodded, she was feeling more than better, she finally had a plan. Now all she had to do was figure out how to make Ethan agree to the plan.