MasukBETTYThe rest of the way, I go over the plan in my head one more time, repeating each step until it feels real, solid, possible.Accept Rhys’s help. But only until we find our own place. Take on more work to keep Grace in that worldly expensive school because she needs at least one part of her life to be stable.Build a new life. Find peace, and lastly, find a new way to be happy.My fingers loosen slightly around the steering wheel as I repeat it in my mind, until I pull up outside the building with Rhys’s club and convince myself I can do this.The building rises in front of me, sleek and dark against the brightening morning sky, the large sign still dim now that the club has closed for the night.The street is quiet, but is that kind of quiet that comes after chaos, when the city is catching its breath before starting all over again.Rhys is already outside waiting for us, and the mere sight of him makes something in my chest ease.He stands near the curb with his hands entwined b
BETTYAs the estate gates begin to disappear behind me, my chest finally caves in, and my fingers tighten around the steering wheel until my knuckles ache beneath the strain.I try to keep my eyes forward, force them there, but every few seconds they betray me, drifting upward toward the rearview mirror where I can still see it. Everything we are leaving behind.The black iron gates. The winding driveway. The endless stretch of green, and the roof of the only home Grace has ever known.A sharp breath catches in my throat, but I swallow it down. Hard. Because we are not just leaving the walls and rooms behind.I am leaving Harriette’s voice calling for breakfast in the garden. Grace’s laughter bouncing through those endless halls. Movie nights in the guest house. And I had somehow started building without realizing it.I blink hard and drag my eyes back to the road before the tears threatening behind them spill over.This isn’t how I thought the morning would go.I left the guest house
NATHANIELGrace is still in her pajamas, and the sight of her alone nearly brings me to my knees.Her tiny pink shirt is twisted from sleep, one shoulder slipping free beneath the mess of dark curls flattened on one side of her head and springing wildly on the other.Betty guides her carefully down each step.Her eyes are swollen with sleep, her lashes clumped together, her cheeks pink and warm from the bed she has clearly been pulled from too soon.The confusion etched across her little face is so pure, so innocent, that something inside my chest tightens with such brutal force I have to part my lips and force air into lungs that suddenly refuse to work.She rubs at one eye with the back of her hand and blinks blearily into the morning light spilling through the windows, looking around the foyer as though trying to understand why everyone is awake, and why the house feels wrong.Finally, she sees me. Then Harriette. And I watch her little brows pull together, the confusion deepening.
NATHANIELThe silence stretching between us is alive.My mother stands opposite Harriette, one hand still pressed against her cheek, her fingers trembling over the angry red imprint left by Harriette’s palm, her face flushed with outrage and disbelief as she slowly turns toward me, her eyes widening with expectation I know too well.She wants me to intervene. She wants me to say something. She wants me to do what I have always done and take her side.But all I can think, standing here in the middle of this wreckage, is that she should have known better.Everyone in this house knows better than to speak Betty’s name with venom in front of Harriette.And if I am being honest with myself, if I peel back the layers of anger and grief clawing through my chest, there is a part of me that feels something dangerously close to satisfaction.It is twisted. Ugly. Not something I would have recognized as mine a few months ago. But it is there.A bitter, shameful sort of relief that someone, final
NATHANIELI am on the floor in front of the main entrance door, my back pressed against the wood, one knee bent, the other stretched out in front of me, my head tipped back as I stare at nothing.I am too lost inside my own head.Buried beneath the weight of everything that happened only hours ago, consumed by the sound of her voice repeating itself in vicious circles inside my skull, I haven’t noticed that the darkness in the room has begun to soften.The first streaks of pale morning light slip through the heavy curtains in thin golden lines, stretching slowly across the polished floorboards until they brush against the toe of my shoe, and that is when the realization settles in my chest like a blade.I have sat here the entire fucking night.My head falls back against the door behind me with a dull thud as I drag both hands over my face, the roughness of my palms scraping against skin that feels too tight, too hot, too foreign.I have not slept. Haven’t even tried, because every si
BETTYHe leads me upstairs, his hand hovering at my back, steady, careful, as if I might fall apart if he lets go completely, and when we reach the bathroom, everything becomes a blur of movement and quiet efficiency.He helps me out of the soaked clothes without making it feel awkward, without making it feel like anything other than necessary, wrapping a towel around me, drying my hair gently, and moving with a patience that feels foreign compared to everything I just walked away from.By the time I register what is happening, I am clean, dry, and wrapped in a soft shawl that sits around my shoulders, shielding me from the lingering cold that still clings to my skin.He leads me back downstairs, guiding me to the couch, helping me sit before stepping away toward the kitchen without a word.I sit there, my hands resting limply in my lap, my body still catching up to everything, my mind replaying fragments I cannot seem to shut off.Moments later, he returns, a cup of tea in his hands,
NATHANIELThe divorce papers are clenched in my hand, my grip tight enough that the edges bite into my skin.She should be packing by now, or at least doing something with her newfound freedom.Instead, the bed is neatly made, smoothed down to perfection, the pillows aligned, her clothes still hang
BETTYI park the car crookedly and rush into the building with my pulse racing, my heels echoing too loudly against the concrete as I take the stairs two at a time.By the time I reach the top floor, my lungs are on fire, and I stop abruptly, bracing my palm against the wall, my chest heaving as I
NATHANIEL“You and I need to talk.” The words tear out of me the second she steps inside the house, my voice impatient, already threaded with the frustration that’s been coiling in my chest all day.I don’t give her time to react. My hand closes around her wrist, and I pull her back outside, toward
BETTYI walk into Harriette’s rose garden just as the morning sun settles high enough to warm the air without burning it.The scent of roses hangs thick around the gazebo, sweet and almost dizzying if you breathe in too deeply.I find her standing a few steps away from it, holding a small metal wat







