That truth should steady me, but it doesn’t.
Instead, images from the past week intrude mercilessly.
Raf kneeling on the floor with Riley, pretending to be whatever animal she picked for the day. Raf letting her paint his fingernails.
Raf listening intently to her rambling stories like they were sacred texts. Raf’s face softening every time she laughed.
He loves her. The realization slices deeper than I expect. I deprived him of that love. I deprived him of her first steps, her first words, the million tiny moments that stitch a parent to a child.
And yet… if I had said anything, my life would have imploded. I would have been ruined in every sense of the word.
My parents saved me.
They gave me a future where Riley could grow up protected, cherished, unburdened by scandal.
I chose her, and I would do it all again.
A sickening wave of nausea hits me, and the room tilts dangerously as a tumult of emotions rises in my gut.
I barely make it to the bathroom before I’m on my knees, retching. My stomach convulses violently, emptying itself in waves that leave me shaking and weak.
I grip the porcelain until my knuckles ache, sweat slicking my skin.
When it passes, I sit back on my heels, breath ragged, but the relief is immediate.
Perfect. On top of everything else, I’m sick.
It might be food poising—but considering the clammy chill that clings to my skin, it’s more likely the stomach flu. Damn it.
I rinse my mouth and catch my reflection in the mirror.
My eyes are bloodshot, my face pale. I look wrecked.
Hand pressed to my queasy stomach, I go in search of my phone to call my parents.
Downstairs fifteen minutes later, the house hums faintly with activity, voices, footsteps. I hesitate at the top of the stairs, bracing myself before descending.
Raf is in the kitchen with Riley, and the sight steals what little breath I have left. Riley is perched on a stool, swinging her legs, happily devouring toast while Raf stands nearby, arms crossed, jaw tight. He doesn’t look at me when I enter.
“Morning,” I manage.
Riley beams. “Sissy! You’re awake.”
Raf’s head snaps up. His eyes meet mine briefly, sharp and guarded, then flick away.
I force a smile. “Bug, can I talk to you for a minute?” I lead Riley into the sitting room and kneel in front of her. My hands shake as I smooth her hair. “Mamma and Papa are going to come get you today, okay?” I say gently.
Her face falls. “Why?”
“I’m not feeling very well,” I admit. “And I don’t want you to catch anything.”
She considers this, her expression serious. “But then who will take care of you?”
My heart melts. “Raf is here with me,” I say softly, though I can’t imagine him as the caretaking type—and I doubt he has any inclination to worry over me at this stage in our broken relationship. “But I’ll see you very soon. I promise.”
She wraps her arms around my neck, fierce and warm. I close my eyes and breathe her in, committing everything about her to memory.
“Okay, bug,” I whisper. “Go get your things.”
