The next day, Regan was still not coming home, and the day stretched before me. By the time I woke, the day had reached its peak. As the afternoon sun cast its golden rays through the window, a notification buzzed on my phone. Pulling it out of my pocket, I glanced at the screen. It was a text from Gerard. His message was simple – a request to meet.
Despite the fatigue that weighed me down, and the nausea churning in my stomach, I knew I couldn't ignore him. With a deep breath, I pushed myself off the couch. Moving on autopilot, I made my way to my room. The reflection in the mirror startled me. My usually bright green eyes were dull and shadowed. Choosing a red maxi dress, I slipped it on. The long sleeves offered a welcome layer of comfort, hiding the fading bruise blooming on my arm. The one I received from where Regan shoved me in a staff room. The red color felt like a shield, a way to mask the vulnerability I still felt.
Reachi
“Can we go to the arcade now?” Atticus asked as we exited the shop, holding the bag.“Yup, we can” I looked at Alex expectantly if he was good at it.Alex grinned. “Why not? I can crush him at racing games again.”Atticus ran straight for the basketball shootout while Alex exchanged tokens and handed me a small pack of tickets like I’d actually use them. I sat on one of the benches by the entrance, watching them from a distance. Alex pretending to lose. Atticus grinning like he ruled the world every time he scored.The sounds of the arcade pulsed all around — music blaring from dance machines, the clatter of tokens dropping into slots, children yelling, lights flashing. I was watching Atticus play, or at least, I thought I was. But something in his posture shifted. He had wandered just a few steps away from the racing machines and stopped near a claw crane game, his eyes no longer on the tokens in his hand, but on something… someone.I followed his gaze.A few feet away, a father and
We all slid into the leather seats, Atticus climbing into the back and immediately pulling out the children’s chapter book he’d been obsessed with all weeks. I could already hear the pages flipping as he settled in, legs crossed like a little professor.I glanced over as Alex started the engine, the quiet hum of power filling the cabin. The car ride was smooth, the city passing by in blurs of late-afternoon light. Atticus was quiet in the back, mouthing words as he read, fully immersed.I glanced sideways at Alex.“So…” I started, drawing the word out just enough to make him glance at me suspiciously.“So…?”“Phoenix’s back from her trip.”“Mm-hmm.” He kept his eyes on the road.“And I think before she left, someone,” I continued, casually picking lint off my sleeve, “that someone still owes her dinner.”A beat of silence. Just the faint sound of a page turning in the back seat.“Did she also tell you she threw her drink at me the last time we were in the same room?” Alex asked, not m
The meeting had run longer than expected but thankfully, Ava had shoved a granola bar in my hand before I left the office like the capable, slightly terrifying woman she was.By the time the car pulled up outside Astoria Primary, the sun was lower in the sky. The gates had already opened for dismissal, and parents were scattered along the sidewalk, chatting with teachers or waving at their kids from inside their cars.I stepped out of the car, adjusting my coat and squinting against the light. That’s when I saw him. Atticus, sitting on one of the benches near the pickup area — legs swinging slightly, school bag resting neatly beside him and eating ice cream.And next to him, holding a melting cone of vanilla ice cream like it was the most natural thing in the world, was Alex Wright.His rugged build softened by the easy way he leaned back against the bench. A faded denim jacket draped over a plain white t-shirt, and a pair of jeans fit comfortably on his long legs. His brown hair was
Ava leaned forward slightly; her voice softer now. “You weren’t a mess. You were broken. And still trying to smile.”I couldn’t hold it in anymore.“It was hard,” I whispered. “I was trying to adjust. Trying to forget. But I cried every night that first year. Every single night. I changed my phone. Cut off all contact. Not just with him — with his entire family. And even then, it still felt like I was going crazy. I wanted to call him so badly sometimes. Just to hear his voice. Just to ask ‘Why?’”If there was one thing I realized after leaving, it is different when you’re away from someone, but you still know where they are. Still in the same city. Still breathing the same air. But when I moved here—it felt like I lost all gravity. I was floating. Alone. And I was pregnant. I couldn’t sleep. I was depressed. I couldn’t eat right. That nearly affected my pregnancy. Since Atticus was born, I threw myself into everything. Every waking second went to him, or the gallery, or the foundatio
I closed the door to my office behind me, and the soft click felt louder than usual. Final, almost. The space was still. The kind of stillness that didn’t comfort. My heels echoed slightly as I walked in — just a few short steps to my desk — but even that felt wrong.I set the folder down, more carefully than necessary, then peeled off my coat and draped it over the arm of the chair. I didn’t sit. I couldn’t. I turned toward the window instead, rubbing my palm against the side of my neck, trying to shake the tension out.Below, the city carried on — cars moving, people walking fast with their heads down, business as usual. And yet I couldn’t move past the words from earlier. Couldn’t un-hear them.Settle it. Clarity matters.I crossed my arms. Then uncrossed them. Then folded them again, tighter this time. It had been years. Why now? Why was this suddenly rising to the surface like something I thought I buried but apparently just shoved in a drawer?Three quick knocks broke through my
By the time I reached the office, I had exactly three minutes to spare. The staff gave me a knowing nod as I stepped into the boardroom — glass walls, long mahogany table, sunlight slanting across the floor like it was trying to lighten the tension that always settled during meetings.Everyone was already seated, of course. I offered a polite smile as I took my seat at the head of the table.“Let’s begin,” I said, flipping open the folder Ava placed in front of me.The meeting began as usual — numbers, updates, a few too many acronyms. Marketing recapped the campaign progress, the finance team updated us on the gallery’s projections, and HR had a mild panic about scheduling conflicts for the scholarship interviews.“We’ve seen a 12% increase in engagement since the new campaign rollout,” Patricia explained. “Especially on the gallery’s behind-the-scenes videos. The last one with the restoration process reached sixty-two thousand views overnight.”“Is that organic?” I asked, flipping t