“You did. When we first met at the 5K.”
He tilted his head, thinking. “Must’ve been a misunderstanding.”
“Maybe.”
His eyes narrowed. “Where’s this coming from all of a sudden?”
I hesitated, still staring at the little pig in my hand. “I don’t know. It’s just...lately I’ve been thinking a lot about my childhood. And I feel so lost. Like I’m slowly going crazy. And the worst part isn’t even Cynthia’s death. Or the nightmares. It’s the fact that I don’t really know who I am. I can’t remember my own childhood. Not the parts that matter. And I guess, sometimes, that makes me wonder about yours too.”
He paused. The words seemed to make sense to him, but a trace of confusion lingered in his eyes.
“I mean,” I continued, “I don’t really know much about your life before we met, Daniel. I’m talking about friends. Family. Your childhood.”
He tensed for a moment, then shrugged. “Then ask me. Anything. I’m not a serial killer, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Of course not.” A faint smile pulled at my lips. I was on the edge of laughter, despite the weight of it all.
“Well, next question then,” he said.
I straightened in my chair, lifting my gaze to meet his. “Your family.” I paused. I hated confronting him like this, but I was unraveling. Going nuts. Literally. So I pressed on. “What happened to them?”
“They died,” he said.
“I know,” I said. “But what about uncles? Cousins?”
Daniel looked deep into my eyes. He was guarded, like he always was when his past came up. Only this time, I didn’t look away. I couldn’t. In that moment, just as church bells began echoing in the distance and pigeons fluttered near a fountain, I realized something I hadn’t dared to admit until then. I was more afraid of losing my sanity than I was of losing him.
Maybe he realized it too. He was always so perceptive. It was like he could read my mind.
Finally, Daniel nodded.
“I told you my parents died in an accident, right?” he said quietly.
“Yes,” I said.
He stared off into the distance, like he could see it all playing out in front of him. “The night they died,” he said, “there was a horrible storm. I remember being so scared. My parents were arguing again. They always did. I don’t know why, but they decided to take the car. Maybe my mom was finally leaving. She used to threaten it all the time. Maybe my dad, in his pride,offered to drive her to the airport. To finally be rid of her, as he always said. Who knows why they got into the car during a storm like that, but they didn’t make it far. A massive wave slammed into the road and swept them away. Swallowed them whole. The entire car disappeared beneath the water. That endless stretch of blue became their final resting place. Cold and merciless.”
I flinched. Shock hit me square in the chest. It felt like something had split open inside me. Raw and aching. For him.
“A wave?”
He nodded.
My hand reached across the table and found his. I held it tight.
“It happened at my childhood home,” he said. “A mansion called the Breakers. It sits on a small island, connected to the mainland by a one-mile road that runs straight over the ocean. It’s beautiful. Unlike anything you’ll ever see. But it’s deadly during a storm.”
Suddenly, it all made sense, why he never wanted to talk about his childhood or the Breakers. That was where they’d died.
“A brutal fight broke out over the Winthrop inheritance,” he continued. “It was all meant to go to me. My parents’ will made that clear. But that didn’t stop anyone. Uncles, aunts, my grandparents, cousins. Even the goddamn gardener fought me over it. People I’d grown up with. People who’d sat at our table every Thanksgiving and Christmas. Who’d laughed with us, cried with us, said they loved us. They tried to destroy me for the money. Years in court, death threats, restraining orders—it was almost worse than my parents’ deaths. But not surprising. I already knew how cruel life could be. I knew it every time I looked out across the ocean.”
“That’s.. .that’s awful,” I said, shaking my head. “How old were you when all of this happened?”
“Twelve years, six months, and twenty-seven days.”
Silence followed. It stretched out like a second shadow. My thoughts ran wild. That was when it hit me: Both of us were carrying so much unresolved trauma. Both of us had been shaped by an unfair life—a life that let some people walk through it laughing and happy, while others got knocked down again and again and again.
I smiled gently at Daniel as a quiet wave of shame rose inside me.
