Chapter 4: The shadows 

Rachel’s POV

I sat in the car for a long moment after closing the door, hands gripping the steering wheel, the echo of his words still burning in my chest.

Our five-year agreement will expire.

A contract. That was all I’d ever been to him.

I forced myself to inhale deeply, then again, until the air no longer caught painfully in my throat. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them away. I had cried enough for one day.

When I caught my reflection in the rear-view mirror, my eyes were red-rimmed, lashes clumped together. My cheeks were blotchy, my hair a tangled mess. I barely looked like myself.

“Pull it together,” I whispered. “Amber’s waiting.”

I started the engine and adjusted the mirror. As I turned my head, something outside the passenger window caught my eye.

A man stood by the curb, hunched beneath the flickering streetlight. His clothes were tattered, his shoulders bent, a scruffy beard shadowing most of his face. A small bag hung from his wrist, and when he turned slightly, I saw that one of his shoes was worn through at the toe.

He looked like just another homeless man wandering the street, nothing unusual in the city. But something about the way he stared made my pulse quicken.

I reached into my purse and pulled out my coin pouch, thinking of giving him some change, maybe a sandwich. Before I could roll down the window, he noticed me watching. His posture stiffened. Then, without warning, he turned sharply and hurried away, disappearing around the corner.

I frowned.

“Strange,” I murmured.

Maybe I looked like a ghost myself tonight, pale, swollen-eyed, ridiculous. Maybe I had scared him.

Still, that familiar unease returned, the same creeping feeling that had followed me these past few weeks. A sense that someone was watching me when I turned corners, waiting when I stepped out of the car.

It was probably nothing. I wasn’t famous, wasn’t rich, not in the way Adrian was. Our marriage was private; no one even knew I existed in his world.

I was just an ordinary woman in a city full of extraordinary people.

Pushing the thought aside, I shifted gears and pulled out of the parking lot.

The drive home took twenty minutes, the late evening sky stained orange from the city lights. My chest eased as familiar streets passed by. When I finally turned the corner toward the school gates, I spotted a small figure standing near the entrance.

Amber.

She was chatting animatedly with two boys, one of them Tommy, her classmate from next door, and another I didn’t recognize. They looked about her age, maybe a year older.

I slowed down, smiling despite everything. “Amber! I’m here!” I called, waving out the window.

Her head snapped up, her face lighting with that sunshine smile that always melted me. She waved back shyly.

“Amber, is this your family’s chef?” the unfamiliar boy asked curiously, his voice carrying just enough to reach me.

Amber froze. Color rushed to her cheeks.

My heart sank as I walked to her.

Before I could say anything, Tommy’s laughter cut through the air. “Edward, you’re so dumb! That’s Amber’s mom!”

The new boy’s expression turned awkward, his ears pink. But Amber’s eyes had already filled with embarrassment.

“Mom, can we go now?” she muttered, brushing past me and climbing into the car without looking back.

I forced a small smile for the boys. “Hello, Edward. I’m Amber’s mom.”

He mumbled a quick apology, then ducked behind Tommy.

“And Tommy,” I said gently, crouching slightly to meet his eyes, “I know you didn’t mean anything bad. But teasing someone about their mother isn’t very kind, is it?”

His face fell. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Parker.”

“It’s alright,” I said, patting his shoulder. “Just remember, words can hurt more than you think.”

When I straightened, both boys nodded, looking sheepish. I smiled again, though it didn’t reach my eyes.

Back in the car, Amber was staring out the window, her arms crossed tightly.

“You embarrassed me,” she whispered, voice trembling.

My heart ached. “Amber, I—”

But she turned away. “Please, Mom. Just drive.”

I did as she asked, biting my lip the entire ride home. The city blurred past in streaks of orange and gray, my mind trapped in silence.

When we pulled into the driveway, Amber bolted out before I’d even turned off the engine. She ran inside and slammed her bedroom door.

For a long moment, I stayed where I was, my hands still on the wheel.

I told myself it was just a bad day. She was just a child. She didn’t mean it.

But the truth was harder to swallow.

She was starting to see me the same way Adrian did, something to be ashamed of.

I exhaled shakily, pressing my palms to my eyes. I had been humiliated in front of hundreds of strangers today, but nothing hurt more than the disappointment in my daughter’s voice.

When I finally stepped out of the car, I glanced over my shoulder one last time. The street was empty, the air still. But for just a second, I thought I saw movement across the road, a shadow slipping behind a lamppost.

I blinked, but there was nothing.

Probably my imagination.

Still, the feeling of being watched lingered like a chill I couldn’t shake.

I locked the car and hurried inside.