For a split second, my brain refuses to connect the shape of him with the man I know.Knew. It has to be just a stranger. But there’s something more in the tilt of his head, the line of his mouth, the way his brow draws close. And suddenly, I can’t breathe.
I blink, desperately hoping that he might disappear.
He stands in the doorway, shaking rain from his coat, dark eyes scanning the room. My chest cinches tight, breath stalling halfway. My fingers slip against the wet cup, and the sound that leaves me is a small, broken inhale.
No. No, no, no.
My heart’s hammering so hard it hurts. The café fades to a blur, voices stretch, edges smear. All I can hear is the rush of blood in my ears. I tell myself to stay still, to breathe, tonotmake a scene. But my hands won’t listen, they twist and tug at each other as my pulse ricochets against my throat. There’s a tremor under my skin that feels too loud to hide. I can taste adrenaline; it’s metallic, electric.
Then his gaze finds mine.
An involuntary flinch makes me almost drop my cup.
Time bends around that look. A flicker of recognition that shouldn’t still sting. Every lie, every apology, every night I wished I’d never met him—all compressed into one impossible second. Every instinct screamsrun.
“Liv? You okay?” Bethany’s voice filters through, faint and distant, not something I can bring myself to focus on, though.
My chair scrapes back before I even realize I’ve moved, and my feet carry me toward him. My throat burns with all the words I swore I’d never say to him again. But silence feels like surrender, and I’ve done enough of that for one lifetime. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Rhys blinks—surprise flickering before he masks it. “Olivia,” he says evenly. And hatred explodes in my veins like tiny fireworks at how calm he’s being.
My pulse spikes, breath coming short, making my nostrils flare. “Why are you—”
“Wait,” Bethany cuts in, joining us, confusion knitting her brows. “You two know each other?”
I can’t look at her. My chest heaves, my lungs can’t seem to catch enough air.
Rhys straightens, his tone gentle. “Bethany, it’s okay.”
She glances between us, her expression faltering. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand, Dad, you know her?”
The world tilts. You’ve got to be kidding me.
“Dad?” I echo, the name burning me.
Bethany’s eyes narrow, her voice quiet. “Yeah. This is my dad.”
The sound of rain outside is swallowed by the pounding in my head. I reach for the counter to steady myself, but end up stumbling a little. He’s still standing there, completely collected, like this isn’t the cruelest kind of coincidence.
Bethany’s voice echoes somewhere between us. “Dad? What’s going on?”
Rhys gives her a small, composed smile, the same one he used to wear right before he said something that made me doubt my own sanity. “I think there’s been some confusion,” he says.
“Confusion?” I repeat, my voice a rasp that even I don’t recognize.
He sighs quietly, likeI’mthe one being unreasonable. “I didn’t realize you were in Oregon, Olivia. Small world, isn’t it?”
The sound of his voice makes something crawl beneath my skin. I step back, throat burning. Around us, cups clink and espresso hisses, but it all feels far away.
Bethany looks between us, jaw flexing now. “Will someone please tell me what is going on?”
I could spare her the details, lie, and protect her from the ugliness of what happened. But why should I? Why should he get to keep the version of himself that people still believe in when I’m the other woman? The role he bestowed upon me without my permission.
I’ve spent months clawing myself back from the wreckage he left behind. Picking up the pieces I didn’t even recognize as mine anymore, but making them my own again. Stitching myself together with whatever gentleness I could find. Every boundary I’ve rebuilt, every breath I’ve learned to trust again—it all came from dragging myself out of the shadow he cast. The truth burns at the back of my throat, begging to be set free. Part of me wants to watch his world fracture like he fractured mine—to finally hand back a piece of the ruin he left me with. But then I look at her, and all I see is innocence he hasn’t ruined yet.
His eyes bore into me, a flicker of warning darkening his irises. “Don’t.”
That one word hangs in the air like a violent threat, quiet but cutting enough to slice through everything else. My skin becomes a living, breathing flame, with anger coursing through my veins.
