“Has he said something again?” I asked quietly.
“No,” Sophie muttered. “Not this week.”
Which meant: yes, but Sophie didn’t want to talk about it.
“You know you don’t have to stay with him,” I said gently.
“We’ve talked about this.” Sophie’s voice went flat. “He’s a steady paycheck. I don’t need anything else.”
“That’s not good.”
“Claire,” Sophie cut in. “Not everyone gets love. Some of us settle for stability. And that’s okay.”
The words sounded overly harsh.
Because they sounded like a reflection of my own choices.
“You deserve better,” I repeated softly.
“So do you,” Sophie shot back. “At least I’m honest about settling.”
The line went quiet for a moment.
Then Sophie sighed and softened. “Look. Sorry. I’m just… tired.”
“I know,” I sighed.
We said goodnight shortly after, but I stared at the ceiling long after the call ended, the words settling, circling like a slow, sinking truth.
???
The school hallways buzzed with the usual Thursday energy, kids shuffling backpacks, the squeak of sneakers, the distant hum of the copy machine. I loved my classroom most in the morning, when it still smelled faintly of crayons and lemon cleaner.
Lily sat at her desk, small shoulders hunched, a colored pencil gripped too tightly. She had been quieter since the session yesterday. Sad in a way that didn’t fit her.
I crouched beside her. “Want help with your drawing?”
Lily nodded, pushing the paper toward me. A picture of a house and three stick figures, one tall, one medium, one small.
As we worked, there was a shift in the air, a larger-than-life presence.
Ethan.
He didn’t come in. He lingered just outside the threshold, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders tense like he was trying to take up less space. His expression was soft, almost hesitant, his eyes focused entirely on Lily.
He didn’t intrude.
He simply stood there, watching his niece with a tender look full of love, it had my heartbeat skipping in my chest.
I looked back down at the drawing quickly, pretending the moment hadn’t touched me.
???
At the end of the day, I drove my car out of the school parking lot, happy to go home, my thoughts revolving aroundhim. It was only when I was five minutes away from home, that the past forced its way forward, uninvited.
The memory surfaced before I could stop it, unfolding with a clarity that was unsettling.
Chapter 32
