Here we go again.
Lily started kindergarten yesterday. Her teacher seems kind, and Lily came home chattering about a girl named Maya who shared her crayons. Normal kid stuff. The stuff she deserves.
I wanted a few days to breathe before diving back into the job hunt. The irony isn't lost on me—I can afford this brief pause because of money I earned at the Sartori compound. Money that feels like it burns a hole in my bank account.
My thumb hovers over a listing for a diner three blocks away. Flexible hours. Tips. The kind of job I can do in my sleep.
Things are going to be hard again.
I know this. I've lived this. But things are different now.
Jack is gone.
The guilt crept in at first. Someone threatened him. Someone from Nico's world made him sign those documents and leave. I should feel terrible about that.
I don't.
"Making a family with you was the biggest mistake of my life."
His words echo in my head, and instead of the familiar sting, I feel something else. Clarity.
A parent who loves their child doesn't say that. Not ever. Not under any circumstances. If someone had threatened me, told me to disappear or else, I would have clawed through concrete walls to see Lily again. I would have fought until my last breath.
Jack folded like a cheap lawn chair.
So yes. I feel relieved.
My heart is broken, but at least that particular weight has lifted.
Nico.
His name surfaces unbidden, the way it does a hundred times a day. I picture his dark eyes watching me across a room. The way his jaw tightens when he's holding back. How his hands were always so careful with me.
I miss him.
God, I miss him so much it hurts. Like someone reached into my chest and carved out a piece of me.
The fury burned out within hours of leaving the compound. I was halfway through unpacking Lily's suitcase when it hit me—the full weight of what I'd done. What I'd said.
"I hate you."
I told him I hated him. Watched something shatter behind his eyes and walked away.
Part of me meant it. I hated what he did.
But I didn't hate him.
I fell for him. Completely. Stupidly. Despite every red flag and warning sign. Despite knowing exactly what kind of man he is and what kind of world he lives in.
I think about him every moment. When I'm cooking Lily's dinner, I remember how he watched me in the compoundkitchen. When I'm lying in bed at night, I feel the ghost of his body next to mine. When Lily mentions Vittoria or asks about the rabbits, my heart clenches so hard I can't breathe.
Part of me believed he would come.
That first night back in the apartment, I kept glancing at the door. Waiting for that heavy knock. His voice on the other side, demanding I let him in. I imagined the argument we'd have, the things I'd scream at him, the way it would end with his mouth on mine and his hands everywhere.
He didn't come.
He didn't call.
