Caroline’s Point of View
I stay the night.
It wasn’t the plan. I’d packed enough for Liam to be comfortable just in case, but I told myself we’d only stay for the afternoon. Just long enough for my father to see us and for Liam to get a game or two of chess in. But by the time dinner came around—simple but warm, with his favorite roasted potatoes and grilled fish—my father had already instructed the maids to prepare the guest rooms.
And honestly, I didn’t argue.
It’s quiet here. Peaceful in a way my apartment never really is. Maybe it’s the distance, the familiar silence, or just the weight of legacy in these walls. Whatever it is, I gave in to it tonight.
Liam fell asleep quickly in the room across the hall, curled up like a cat in the same bed I used to sleep in. I checked on him twice. Once to make sure he was under the cov
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe shop is quiet this afternoon.The soft tick of the wall clock echoes in the background as I finish placing a new display of necklaces in the front. Penelope is in the backroom handling shipment paperwork. Liam is at school. I should be enjoying the silence, but my head won’t stop spinning.The gala. Adrian. His invitation. His words still ring in my ears from this morning.“Come with me. As my partner.”I told him yes. I agreed.And yet, there’s this tight knot in my chest. Not fear. Not exactly. Just… pressure. Like the moment I said yes, everything started moving faster than I expected.I wipe a tiny fingerprint off the glass with a cloth, then step behind the counter to check my emails.Routine. Familiar. Grounding.I open my tab
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe drive home is quiet.Liam dozes off in the back seat not long after we leave my father’s estate, hugging his sketchpad to his chest. The radio hums softly, but my mind isn’t listening. It’s stuck on last night.Adrian’s voice still lingers in my head—the cold edge in it, the way he didn’t even try to say goodnight properly. I can’t tell if it was just a bad day for him or if it was something bigger. Something shifting.And now my father wants me to move back in. Just like that. Like I could pack up my life and pretend I’m still his little girl sleeping in the guest wing.It’s too much. Too fast. Too many changes pressing in at once.I pull into the driveway slowly, parking in my usual spot. I take a second to breathe and glance in the mirror to check if Liam’s still
Caroline’s Point of ViewI stay the night.It wasn’t the plan. I’d packed enough for Liam to be comfortable just in case, but I told myself we’d only stay for the afternoon. Just long enough for my father to see us and for Liam to get a game or two of chess in. But by the time dinner came around—simple but warm, with his favorite roasted potatoes and grilled fish—my father had already instructed the maids to prepare the guest rooms.And honestly, I didn’t argue.It’s quiet here. Peaceful in a way my apartment never really is. Maybe it’s the distance, the familiar silence, or just the weight of legacy in these walls. Whatever it is, I gave in to it tonight.Liam fell asleep quickly in the room across the hall, curled up like a cat in the same bed I used to sleep in. I checked on him twice. Once to make sure he was under the cov
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe car ride to my father’s estate is quiet. Liam hums now and then, eyes glued to his tablet, legs swinging in rhythm. He’s relaxed. I’m not.It’s been too long since I last visited. My father never says anything about it—not over the phone, not in passing. He’s not the type to guilt-trip or hint. But he notices. He always notices.I tighten my grip on the steering wheel as the familiar gate comes into view—tall, black iron, flanked by brick pillars that haven’t aged a day. The house stands still and stiff, exactly how I remember it. Unchanging. Unyielding.“Are we at Grandpa’s?” Liam asks, already squirming out of his seatbelt.“Yes,” I say, keeping my tone light. “We’re here.”Before I even reach the steps, the front door opens. My father stands there, straight-backed, hands clasped behind him, wearing the same charcoal sweater and dark slacks. His face is unreadable, sharp eyes flicking to me and then to Liam.“Grandpa!” Liam barrels forward, arms wide.My
Caroline’s Point of ViewI lock the front door of the shop, letting the metal shutter roll down with a low rattle. The street’s quiet, the way it always is this late. The hum of the city’s died down, and all that’s left is the faint flicker of streetlamps and the distant sound of traffic turning corners I don’t care to follow.Adrian didn’t come back today.And strangely… I’m not angry.I lean my forehead against the glass pane, eyes closed. My chest feels hollow, but it’s not unbearable. Just empty in a way I recognize too well. It’s not the pain of being abandoned anymore. It’s the ache of knowing we both need space—like two people in a room filled with things neither of us wants to unpack.Maybe that’s good.Maybe this break in routine is exactly what we need.
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe doorbell chimes as I finish reorganizing a tray of sapphire rings, the soft jingle breaking the quiet hum of music playing in the shop. I glance up, immediately smiling as a man walks in, dressed in a neatly pressed blazer and holding a folded list in his hand. He looks like he’s in his early forties—salt-and-pepper hair, glasses, kind face.“Hi there,” I say, wiping my hands on the side of my apron. “Looking for something specific?”He chuckles, lifting the folded paper. “I’m trying to get a birthday gift for my wife. I… uh, tried asking her what she wanted and got a ‘surprise me’ in return. So here I am.”I grin. “Dangerous words, ‘surprise me.’ That’s code for ‘you better get it right.’”He laughs, the warm, dad-joke kind of laug