Mission (Aftermath #1)

11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Katie

T he phone buzzes on the kitchen counter, and I glance at the screen as I set down the kettle. Mum . Of course.

I take a deep breath before answering, already bracing myself for the questions I know are coming. “Hi, Mum.”

“Katie!” her voice rings out, warm and cheerful, though with that ever-present edge of curiosity. “How’s everything going? How’s Will?”

I glance toward the hallway, where Phoebe is sprawled on the floor colouring, her stuffed rabbit sitting loyally beside her. “He’s doing better,” I say, keeping my voice light. “He can get up and down the stairs with his crutches now. He’s still in pain, but it’s manageable.” He has made a remarkable progress in the four weeks since he left hospital.

“Good, good,” Mum says, though her tone suggests she’s only warming up to the real topic. “And how about you, Love? How are you doing? ”

“I’m fine,” I reply, a little too quickly. “It’s been... good, actually. Having Phoebe here with him has really helped. But I think it’s time for us to head back home.”

“Already?” she asks, the surprise in her voice genuine. “You’re leaving him on his own so soon?”

“Mum, it’s been four weeks,” I point out. “He’s more mobile now, and he has a nurse coming in during the day to help him. Besides, Phoebe and I need to get back to our routine.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and I can almost hear her thoughts turning over. When she speaks again, her tone is softer but no less probing. “And how does Phoebe feel about leaving?”

I glance toward the hallway again, watching as Phoebe hums quietly to herself, blissfully absorbed in her drawing. “She’ll miss him, of course,” I admit. “But she understands it’s only temporary. She’ll still see him on weekends, like before.”

“And what about you?” Mum asks. “How do you feel about leaving?”

“I’ll be fine,” I say automatically, though the words feel hollow. “This was always meant to be temporary, Mum. We came to help him get back on his feet, and now he’s well enough to manage on his own.”

“That’s not what I asked,” she says gently. “I asked how you feel about it.”

I close my eyes, gripping the edge of the counter. “It’s the right thing to do,” I say carefully. “Will’s doing better, and Phoebe and I need to move forward.”

Mum hums thoughtfully, and I know what’s coming next before she even says it .

“Katie,” she begins, soft but insistent, “are you sure there’s no way back for the two of you? A second chance?”

I let out a short laugh, shaking my head even though she can’t see me. “Mum, it’s not like that. Will and I... we’ve been getting along, sure, but that doesn’t mean we’re going to get back together.”

“Why not?” she presses, and I can practically see her raising an eyebrow. “You’re already living together. You’re taking care of each other. And from the way you talk about him...”

“It’s not that simple,” I interrupt, my voice firmer now.

“Isn’t it?” she counters. “Katie, you’ve always loved him. Even after everything. And he clearly never stopped loving you. Anyone with eyes can see it.”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut, and I grip the counter tighter. “Love isn’t the issue, Mum,” I say quietly. “It’s everything else. The job, the danger, the constant worry. That is still there. It’s why we divorced in the first place.”

“But has it really changed?” Mum’s voice is gentle but pointed. “You’re there with him now, helping him, worrying about him. Katie, tell me—has being divorced stopped you from worrying? Be honest!”

I grip the edge of the counter, searching for a response that feels true. “It’s different,” I say carefully. “The divorce gave me space. I didn’t have to live with that constant fear every time he left. It let me... breathe.”

“Darling, you know that's not true.” Mum’s tone softens, but she doesn’t let me off the hook. “Katie, I understand why you did what you did. I really hoped it would help you to live a life free from fear. But it quickly became clear that it didn't. The only thing that changed was that, in addition to your fear, you were now also feeling lonely.”

I don’t answer immediately, my mind swirling with memories. She is right, I know she is but I just can't undo it. I feel paralysed, unable to decide what is right or wrong, or what we should do next.

“It made some things easier,” I try to defend my decision. “But no, it didn’t fix everything.”

“And now you’re here,” Mum says, her tone gentle but unrelenting. “Helping him, being with him, worrying just like you always did.”

Her words hang in the air, settling in the spaces I’ve been trying to avoid.

“Katie,” Mum says, her voice softening, “I’m not telling you to rush into anything. But don’t close the door before you’ve even looked to see what’s on the other side. You loved him once. You still do, even if you won’t say it. Maybe there’s still a way to make it work, if you both want it to.”

“I’ll think about it,” I say at last, my voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s all I ask,” Mum replies, her tone warm and encouraging. “You’ll know what’s right when it’s time.”

As we hang up, her words linger like a thread pulling at something deep inside me. Mum’s right about one thing—I never stopped caring about him. And maybe that means I never really stopped loving him either.

Phoebe sits cross-legged on the floor of the living room, her arms folded tightly across her chest and her lower lip jutting out in a stubborn pout. The sight is so quintessentially her—defiant, fiery, and all heart—that it would almost make me laugh if the situation weren’t so tense.

“Phoebe, sweetheart, we talked about this,” I say as calmly as I can, crouching in front of her. “Daddy’s doing so much better now. He can get up and down the stairs, and the nurse is still coming every day. It’s time for us to go home.”

She shakes her head furiously, her ponytail bouncing with the movement. “No! I don’t want to leave Daddy!” Her voice breaks, and my heart clenches as tears spill down her cheeks.

I sit back on my heels, taking a deep breath and trying to keep my own emotions in check. “Phoebe, you’ll still see Daddy every weekend. Just like before. We’ll be back to visit soon, I promise.”

“It’s not the same!” she cries, her little hands balling into fists. “It’s not fair, Mummy!”

Before I can respond, I hear the creak of the stairs behind me. I turn to see Will carefully making his way down, his crutches steadying him with each step. His face is still pale, but there’s a calm determination in his eyes as he reaches the bottom and moves toward us.

“What’s all this, Firecracker?” he asks gently, lowering himself onto the sofa with a grunt and setting the crutches aside. He winces slightly as he adjusts, but he doesn’t let it stop him. “You’re making a racket loud enough to scare the neighbours.”

Phoebe sniffles, her watery eyes flicking toward him. “I don’t want to leave, Daddy,” she says, her voice small now .

He leans in slightly, his expression soft but serious. “Hey, come here.”

She hesitates for a moment, then crawls into his lap, burying her face against his chest. His arms wrap around her, his crutches forgotten as he holds her close.

“I know you don’t want to go,” he says softly, stroking her hair. “But you know what? It’s not forever. You’ll still come over every weekend, and we’ll have so much fun that you won’t even notice the time flying by. And you can call me anytime you want—morning, afternoon, even bedtime.”

“But it’s not the same,” she mumbles into his shirt.

“You’re right,” he agrees, his voice gentle. “It’s not the same. But it’s still good, yeah? And you know what else?”

“What?” she asks, her voice muffled.

“You’ve got something really important to do at home,” he says, pulling back slightly to look at her. “You’ve got to make sure Mummy doesn’t forget how to have fun. That’s a big job, you know.”

Phoebe lets out a reluctant giggle, her tear-streaked face lifting slightly. “Mummy’s not fun.”

“Hey!” I interject, though I can’t help but smile.

“She is sometimes,” Will says, winking at me. “But you’ve got to keep her on her toes, right? You’re my secret agent for Operation Fun.”

Phoebe giggles again, her earlier resistance softening. “Okay, Daddy.”

“That’s my girl,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Now go grab your rabbit. He needs to come too, doesn’t he?”

She nods, sliding out of his lap and running off to retrieve her stuffed rabbit .

As Will leans back against the sofa, his breathing a little heavier, I watch him from the doorway.

He catches me looking and raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing,” I say quickly, averting my eyes.

But it’s not nothing. It’s the way he talked to her, the way he made her laugh when she was so upset, the way he somehow always knows exactly what to say to make everything feel okay. My chest tightens, and for the first time in a long time, I feel butterflies—soft and tentative but undeniably there.

Still, we pack up the car, and as Phoebe waves goodbye to her room and Will leans on his crutches by the door, I know this is the right thing. It doesn’t make leaving any easier, though, especially when Phoebe hugs him one last time, pressing her little face against his side.

“Bye, Daddy,” she says softly.

“Bye, Firecracker,” he replies, ruffling her hair.

And as I buckle Phoebe into the car and catch one last glimpse of Will watching us drive away, there are more butterflies. Butterflies I hadn’t expected to ever return.