32. Cora

Chapter thirty-two

Cora

L ying in bed, I stare at the ceiling, the cracks in the plaster blurred by my tears. I’ve been here for hours, but the ball of dread in my stomach sits just as heavily as it did when I left the zoo.

My palms are clammy, my skin slick with cold sweat despite the warm room. Each breath feels like a struggle, the air too thick to fill my lungs. I’m gasping, my chest tight with that old, familiar fear. The panic I’ve fought to suppress for years is creeping back, inch by inch, sinking its talons into me. It hasn’t been this bad since… since Mom died. Back then, I thought the worst had passed. But now? Now it’s suffocating me. I can feel it crawling under my skin, coiling tighter, ready to pull me under.

My fingers dig into the bedspread as though it might anchor me to this moment, as though I might hold myself together through sheer willpower. But it’s slipping, unraveling—like the rest of my life. And no matter how hard I try to hold on, the rush of emotions overwhelms me. Guilt. Shame. Fear.

The phone sits like lead in my hand, its screen dark and cold. I’ve checked it every few minutes, my thumb hovering over the Call button each time. Over two dozen calls. Half a dozen voicemails. Countless texts. And not a single response from James.

Why would there be?

I fucked up.

If he could only hear my voice—if he could hear how desperate I am, how much I need him to listen—maybe he’d talk to me. Maybe he’d understand.

But what if he doesn’t? What if it’s just more silence? The thought makes my stomach lurch, anxiety winding tighter and tighter until I might be sick.

I close my eyes, fighting back the flood of tears, but they slip through anyway, hot against my cheeks. How did I let it come to this? How did I let fear—my own stupid fear—ruin everything?

I press my hand against my chest, trying to steady the wild thumping of my heart. Every time I think about his face—how it twisted from confusion to realization, from hurt to fury—I unravel all over again. His eyes… They’ll haunt me forever.

It’s clear now: I should have told him sooner. I should have trusted him. But fear kept me silent. Fear of losing him, fear of how he’d react, fear of what it would mean for Leo.

For the thousandth time, I think about calling him. I’m afraid the silence will keep stretching between us, growing wider and darker until it consumes me. I’m falling into the abyss, and there’s no way out unless I do something.

The sheets are tangled, damp from restless tossing. I kick them off and sit up, my head spinning. Lying here, drowning in misery, won’t fix anything. The only way out is to face him. He has to let me explain. He has to see how much he means to me.

A plan is already forming in my mind as I grab my purse from the dresser. It’s a flimsy plan, reckless even, but I don’t care. I’ll beg him if I have to. I’ll fall to my knees and make him listen. I won’t let it end like this.

I hurry into the living room, where Dad is sitting on the couch with Leo.

“Dad, can you watch Leo for an hour?” I force myself to sound calm. Leo is coloring, absorbed in his crayons and paper, blissfully unaware of his world crumbling around him.

Dad glances up from the TV, frowning slightly at the urgency in my voice, but nods. “Of course. We’re just hanging out, aren’t we, pumpkin?” he says, nudging Leo’s shoulder affectionately.

“Yup!” Leo replies, his face still buried in his drawing, his little hands moving quickly across the paper.

I watch him for a moment. How can I look him in the eyes, knowing I’ve denied him the one thing he deserves most—a father? And for what? A bitter knot of regret lodges in my throat. He deserves more than I’ve given him, more than I’ve allowed him to have. But can I fix this?

After James backed away from me in the café this morning, Leo looked at me with eyes wide, asking, “Who was that man, Momma?” My throat tightened when I answered, “Just a work friend.” The lie tasted sour, wrong.

I swallow the lump in my throat. “Thanks, Dad. I’ll be back soon.”

Without another word, I head out the door, releasing a jerky breath. The humid air sticks to my skin as I flag down the first taxi I see. There’s no time to waste. No time to think. I have to fix this.

I slide into the back seat and rattle off James’s address, my voice shaking. As the taxi pulls away, my hands start to tremble. What am I even going to say when I see him? Will he see me? What if he turns me away?

The city rushes by outside the window, but all I can focus on is the fear crawling beneath my skin. James deserves to know the truth, and I should have told him sooner. But telling him meant accepting that my entire world could collapse.

What if I’ve not only ruined my life, but his too? James didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve the lies, the half-truths, the betrayal.

What if he can’t forgive me?

The thought makes me want to scream. No . I can’t think like that. I have to believe that if I explain everything—if I tell him how scared I was, how much I’ve wanted to tell him but didn’t know how—he’ll understand. Maybe there’s still a chance.

The taxi comes to a stop outside James’s estate. The gates loom in front of me, taller than I remember. Anxiety flows through me as I climb out of the car and stand before the intercom.

My hands shake as I press the Call button, the dial tone loud in the still air. I stand there, waiting, with only the sound of my own jittery breaths for company.

Seconds stretch, each heavier than the last, and with every breath, my hope frays a little more. My fingers tighten around the strap of my purse as I try to imagine James just inside those gates. Maybe he’s pacing, thinking. Maybe, like me, he’s desperate to fix this, to hear me out. My heart swells with the faintest hope that when the gate swings open, he’ll be there, his eyes soft, his arms ready to pull me in.

But there’s no movement. No sign of him. The seconds tick by, and with each one, my hope dies a little more.

Then the intercom crackles to life, and I nearly jump out of my skin.

“Hello. How can I help you?”

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “Hi, it’s Cora. James… he’s expecting me. I’m just a little early.” The lie stings as it leaves my lips, but I’m desperate. I was supposed to spend the night with him anyway—before everything went wrong. Maybe if the guard thinks I’m expected, he’ll let me in.

There’s a long pause and I bit my lip.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the guard’s voice says, cutting through the silence like a knife. “Mr. Hayes has requested no visitors today.”

I close my eyes, trying to hold back the tears that are already burning at the corners of my eyes. I knew this was coming, but it still feels like the ground has dropped out from under me.

“Please,” I whisper, my words almost lost in the silence. “I just need to talk to him. It’s important.” I press my hand to my stomach, trying to calm myself. I glance up at the camera on the gate, hoping, praying that James is there somewhere, listening, watching. That he’ll change his mind.

“I’m sorry,” the guard says again. “I know who you are, but I can’t let you in. James’s instructions were very clear.”

He knows who I am. James told him. He doesn’t want to see me.

I knew he was angry, but this… this feels like a final door slamming shut in my face. I blink hard, trying to push back the tears.

“I understand,” I mumble, though the words feel hollow.

I turn away and slip back into the taxi, which had been waiting for me. I didn’t even realize I hadn’t paid the driver, I was so caught up in my frantic need to fix things. My last chance has slithered through my fingers, vanishing as quickly as I was dismissed.

The taxi pulls away and I turn and watch the gate grow smaller as the distance between us stretches wider than ever. James is behind those cold iron bars, shutting me out of his world. My heart, my limbs—everything aches, and I pull my arms tight around myself, as if I can physically hold the pieces of my life together. But no matter how hard I cling, they’re slipping away. I’m slipping away. And there’s no one left to catch me.

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