All Chapters of THE LINE BETWEEN US : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The murmur of my mother’s voice drifted down the hallway, soft but edged with something sharper, something that made me pause halfway to the kitchen.She was on the phone.At first, I wasn’t listening. I thought it was one of her usual late-night check-ins with Aunt Marianne or maybe the neighbor who always called to gossip about her cats. But then I heard it, one word that made my stomach twist.“Divorce.”I froze.Her tone had gone flat, careful, the way she sounded only when she was trying to hold something together.“…yes, he filed again,” she was saying, her voice low but clear. “I signed my part years ago. He went completely out of touch after that. We were supposed to finalize everything, but he disappeared.”My throat went dry. There was no need to guess who “he” was. The air in the hall grew heavy, pressing against my chest.Dad.The word I hadn’t let myself think about in years, not really.I stepped closer, silently, the floor cool beneath my bare feet. I could hear the fai

The front door creaked shut behind me, the faint click of the lock echoing louder than it should have. My shoes scuffed against the tiled floor, and for a moment I lingered in the entryway, my backpack heavy against my shoulder. I’d just said goodbye to Taylor outside, forcing a small smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes, pretending his steady presence had patched up all the cracks in me.It hadn’t.The air in the house felt different the moment I stepped inside, though. Not heavy, like it usually was after one of Mom’s late-night phone calls. Not sharp, like when she’d tried to swallow her nerves with coffee and silence. No, today the air hummed with something lighter.Voices drifted from the living room, bright, cheerful, overlapping in a way I hadn’t heard in what felt like forever. Mom’s laugh rose above the other, warm and unguarded. I froze. That sound alone was enough to make my heart clench.Mom never laughed like that.I shifted my backpack higher on my shoulder and stepped

The next day came with the same heaviness pressing against my chest.I didn’t know why I came. Maybe it was duty. Maybe it was pride. Maybe it was because once I’d agreed to something, I couldn’t stand the thought of backing out. Whatever it was, here I was again, standing in front of the wrought-iron gates that framed Damian Moretti’s house like a warning.The place loomed larger than yesterday, though nothing about it had changed. The hedges still curved into perfect symmetry, the windows still glinted in the sunlight, and the gravel path still stretched like a polished scar leading straight to the front door.It wasn’t the house that felt different. It was me.I clutched the books tighter to my chest, the corners digging into my ribs. My palms were damp despite the cool afternoon breeze. Somewhere inside, a part of me whispered to turn around, to walk away and never look back. But my feet betrayed me, inching forward, dragging me along that neat path until I was standing on the doo

The word slipped out of my mouth like it didn’t belong to me.“Dad?”The figure shifted, stepping slightly into the dull light that spilled from the buzzing streetlamp overhead. His face came into focus slowly, like a nightmare sharpening the longer you stare at it. For a moment, my heart squeezed, not from joy or relief, but something darker, heavier.He looked… wrecked.His hair was long, curling awkwardly over his ears, unwashed. His clothes were wrinkled, his jacket too thin for the bite of the night air. His face, God, his face, looked years older than when I’d last seen him. The shadows under his eyes were bruised, his skin pale and stretched tight. He had lost weight too, the kind that made his bones jut out in places they shouldn’t.“Autumn,” he said.My name left his mouth like it still belonged to him.For one heartbeat, I froze. And then, just as quickly, something inside me hardened, iced over. Because whatever part of me still wanted to run to him, still wanted to believe

I didn’t waste time once Damian slumped into the chair, his usual stormy expression daring me to push too hard. For a second, I almost gave in to the impulse to throw my hands up and leave. But no. I’d already promised myself I wouldn’t let him dictate how this went anymore.So I leveled my gaze on him and asked, evenly, “Which subject are you weakest at?”He didn’t answer.The silence stretched, thick and intentional, I knew he did that because he thought ignoring me would drive me out first. But I didn’t look away. I folded my arms and waited, letting my glare settle on him like frost. If he wanted to make this difficult, fine. I had patience he didn’t know about.A clock ticked on the wall, each second sharpening the edge of the tension between us. His fingers tapped against the table, once, twice, before falling still. He avoided my eyes, leaning back in his chair as though the ceiling suddenly fascinated him.I didn’t flinch.Finally, after what felt like forever, he exhaled thro