Page 70 of The Moment I Knew

“You’re not responsible for fixing them,” he said gently. Not firm. Not sharp. Just honest.

I shook my head, blinking fast. “It doesn’t feel like that.”

“I know,” he said. “But that doesn’t make it true.”

I let out a shaky breath and leaned forward, resting my forearms on the railing. The cold metal bit through the sleeves of his jacket, the sensation grounding me back to this moment, this conversation.

“She looked happy,” I said. “And that scares me.”

Cole didn’t answer right away. He just stood there with me, shoulder almost brushing mine, close enough that I knew he was there—but not so close it felt like pressure.

After a moment, he said quietly, “You don’t have to decide how you feel about all of it tonight.”

I nodded, even though my chest still ached.

Below us, a car passed slowly, tires hissing against the pavement. Somewhere down the block, a door slammed.

My mom was out there. Starting something new.

And Cole stayed, saying nothing else—just listening—while I tried to figure out how to breathe around it.

twenty-two

I woke up tangled in my sheets, pale winter light sneaking through the gap in my curtains. For a second, I lay there disoriented, my brain still stuck on cold balconies and borrowed jackets and the sound of my mum’s laughter drifting out the front door. Then reality snapped into place. School.

Downstairs, a cabinet slammed. Ainsley’s laugh followed, sharp and bright, then Sebastian’s voice telling her to move before he left without her.

Dragging myself out of bed, I slipped into my uniform. The tie took three tries before it sat halfway straight. I stared at myself in the mirror, smoothing the blazer like it might smooth everything else, but it didn’t.

When I finally made it downstairs, the kitchen was already its usual chaos. Ainsley was perched on a stool at the island, blazer half-buttoned, tie loose and crooked on purpose. Sebastian leaned against the fridge in jeans and a jacket, keys spinning lazily around his finger. Lavender stood by the counter in her own uniform, immaculate as always, coffee in hand, but she was watching Mum like she was about to drop a secret.

Mum was at the stove, moving quickly, flipping pancakes and stirring something in a small pot on the back burner.

“Morning,” I mumbled, dropping my bag near the fridge.

“You’re late,” Ainsley said without looking up from her phone.

“Barely.” I grabbed the coffee and poured myself a huge mug. After Cole left, I’d stayed up half the night, alternating between smiling about him and worrying about my parents. It hadn’t been particularly restful.

Mum turned, spatula in hand, offering pancakes onto plates.

“Girls, come eat before it gets cold,” she said, her tone light but distracted. She glanced at the clock and muttered something under her breath, mostly to herself.

“You seem distracted, Mum,” Lavender said, her tone teasing. “I don’t suppose it has anything to do with last night?”

I choked on my coffee. After the argument Lavender and I had last night, I wouldn’t have expected her to talk about Mum’s date so blatantly. Her eyes flicked over to me and she frowned, but she turned back to Mum almost instantly.

Mum sighed, setting the last pancake on a plate. “Yes, well… it was fine,” she said, trying to sound casual, but her fingers lingered on the edge of the spatula a little too long. “Nothing dramatic, I promise.”

Ainsley snorted. “Fine? Mum, you’ve been glowing all morning. That’s not fine. That’s full-on giddy.” She tilted her head, smirking. “So, what’s his name again?”

Mum’s cheeks warmed. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. “I… haven’t decided if you kids should know yet.”

Lavender leaned on the counter, eyebrow raised. “You can’t just tease us like that.”

Ainsley grinned and leaned closer. “Come on, Mum. Spill. You can’t expect us to live in suspense.”

Mum shook her head, a little flustered but smiling now. “Maybe later.” She placed a plate in front of me, and I caught the faint scent of vanilla and cinnamon in the pancakes. I stared at them, my stomach dropping for a minute. She hadn’t made them like this in months. Definitely not since Dad had left. A memory flashed of the six of us eating breakfast on a sunny July morning, the same scent wafting through the kitchen as we laughed and smiled as a family. Before everything turned upside down.