I don’t even know anymore.
Whatever I was chasing doesn’t exist. It never did.
And now I’m here, sitting in a small inn room, surrounded by ghosts.
I keep the album open beside me on the bed. Every page is a reminder of how much I lost, and how easily I threw it away.
She’s out there somewhere. Maybe sitting by the fire. Maybe remembering the man I used to be… or trying to forget him altogether.
“When somebody loves you, it’s no good unless they love you, all the way.”
I stare at the photo again, at the younger version of myself—the one who couldn’t stop looking at her like she hung the stars.
And I wonder…
When did I forget how to be that man?
When did I stop loving her the right way?
Cecily
Colin came by earlier.
Alicia was in the kitchen with Mom, rolling cookie dough into small, uneven balls, her hair tied up in a messy knot, her cheeks flushed from the heat of the oven. When she turned and saw him standing in the doorway, she froze. Just for a second. Then she blinked, like she wasn’t sure he was real.
He smiled warmly, said,“Hey, princess,”and leaned down to kiss her forehead. She didn’t pull away. Not right away. But the moment he straightened, she stepped back toward the counter, picked up another piece of dough, and began shaping it again, her fingers trembling.
“Hi,”she said quietly. The word sounded fragile, uncertain. Then she turned back to her baking.
I saw the way his shoulders fell. The sadness that crept into his eyes when she didn’t look back at him.
Still, he smiled and greeted my mother. When she offered him something to eat or drink, he politely declined.
He lingered near the kitchen door a moment longer before turning to me. He said he’d be spending the night with our friends,like we used to, adding it with that wistful half-smile that once undid me. Then he left the kitchen.
Later, I found him sitting in the living room with my dad. They talked for hours. About books. About work. About nothing. The same way they have every time he’s visited these past few days. I think part of him hopes that if he sits there long enough, one of the kids will come and join them.
Ethan never does. The moment Colin arrives, he slips out—headphones on, hands buried in his pockets, pretending the cold doesn't bite.
And Alicia... she simply stays where he isn’t.
Three days ago, on the day we would have celebrated our wedding anniversary, it was me who couldn’t face him. I couldn’t even stand to be in the same room with him.
Not with all the memories clawing their way back. Not knowing how easily he threw it all away for something that, according to him, meant nothing.
Nothing.
Saying it out loud doesn’t change anything. Not when I still feel this broken. Still haunted by everything we lived through, and everything we’ll never have again.
When my father came into the room I’d been staying in and told me Colin wouldn’t be back until New Year’s Eve, I felt something I didn’t expect. Relief. Gratitude for his absence.
I needed those days.
Now there’s an entirely different feeling in the cabin. The soft hum of music drifts from the old stereo. The fire Dad lit earlier crackles faintly in the hearth. Mom sets the table, fussing with the centerpiece she brought from home. The cabin smells of pine and butter.
We’re all trying to make tonight something worth remembering later.
After dinner, the kids come sit beside me on the couch. Ethan carries that familiar mix of being too old to believe in anything magical about the new year, and yet still waiting for it with quiet anticipation. Alicia rests her head on my shoulder, her hand clutching mine. We stay like that, talking, trading small stories, waiting for the moment to arrive.
