Chapter 57
Ethan
Two months in, things finally stopped feeling like I was messing everything up.
Like the ground under my feet was finally stable.
I still woke early, habit carved into me after years of running on adrenaline and guilt, but the mornings didn’t punch me in the chest anymore.
The nightmares about Matt, his face twisted and disfigured, asking why I hadn’t been there, had softened.
They felt distant now, blurred at the edges. Some nights, they didn’t come at all.
I’d finished my official vacation time weeks ago, but working remotely meant I was still home. Still here. Still present.
And presence, I was learning, mattered.
That morning had started quietly. Coffee brewed in the kitchen while sunlight spilled across the counter.
Lily padded in with socked feet and sleep-warm hair and climbed into my lap without asking, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Mom watched us from the doorway, her eyes soft and proud, a little watery.
Her cast had finally come off last week. She’d cried when the doctor removed it, overwhelmed more than in pain, and I’d realized then just how overwhelmed she’d been but had been holding it together for all of us.
So, when she suggested a mall trip, just to get Lily some new shoes.
she’s grown again; can you believe it?
I had said yes immediately.
Now the three of us were there, navigating the small-town mall that somehow managed to feel both too quiet and too crowded at the same time.
It was the only one within forty minutes, which meant that on weekends nearly everyone ended up here eventually, orbiting the same stores, the same food court, the same worn benches beneath fake plants.
Lily darted ahead, barely containing her excitement. “Look! Pink shoes!”
I smiled before I could stop myself.
I followed her into the shoe store, Mom close behind, moving carefully now that she was free of the cast but still stiff. Lily hopped from foot to foot as the clerk measured her, chattering about school and Sophie and how she could run faster now that her shoes didn’t pinch.
I crouched in front of her as she tried on a pair, tying the laces with careful fingers. The motion was so familiar now that it didn’t feel remarkable anymore. That normalcy still stunned me sometimes.
“Do they feel okay?” I asked.
She stomped once, then grinned. “They feel good.”
Mom laughed. “Then they’re perfect.”
We bought the shoes. Lily insisted on wearing them out of the store, her old ones tucked into the bag. I carried it without complaint, content just to be there, to be useful.
We wandered after that, nowhere in particular. Lily tugged us into a bookstore to look at the children’s section. Mom stopped to admire scarves. I found myself watching them both, my mom and Lily, moving through the world together, and my chest loosened.
Later, we ended up at the food court.
It wasn’t anything special, plastic tables, the familiar smell of fries and sugar and coffee, but Lily was thrilled by the options, eyes wide as she tried to decide between pizza and noodles and ice cream before lunch.
Mom leaned in close to me as Lily debated. “She’s been happier,” she said quietly. “Lighter.”
I nodded. “You too.”
She glanced at me, surprised, then smiled. “Yes. I suppose I am.”
We ordered. Lily talked nonstop while we waited, swinging her legs under the table, recounting a story about a classmate with dramatic flair. I listened, laughing fondly at the right moments, asking questions. It still amazed me how easily she let me into her world.
When our food arrived, we dug in. Mom excused herself to check on Dad.
“I’ll be right back,” she said. “Don’t you dare steal all my fries,” she added to me, as Lily giggled.
As she walked away, I leaned back in my chair, sipping my drink, letting myself relax for a moment.
That was when I saw her.
Claire.
She stood near the edge of the food court with Sophie, her head tilted as she listened to something Sophie was saying. For a split second, I couldn’t believe my luck and the fact that I could have spotted her in this crowd.
Like something in me had been tuned to her frequency my whole life, and no amount of time or distance had changed that.
I noticed her eyes before I registered what she was wearing. Before I registered anything else.
Then my brain caught up, and ruined my life.
She looked different than she usually did at school.
Her hair was down, falling around her shoulders in a way I rarely saw anymore, catching the light as she laughed at something Sophie said.
She wore a very pretty dress and it made her look graceful.
Not in a way that pulled me backward, not like the girl she’d been, but an absolutely devastating women.
I swallowed.
Of course she was here. There was only one mall. Everyone ended up here eventually. It wasn’t fate laughing at my expense. It was just coincidence.
But it still felt like someone up there was having a laugh.
Sophie spotted us first. Her face lit up. “Hey!”
Claire turned.
Our eyes met.
For a heartbeat, the noise of the food court faded. I was suddenly aware of the straw between my fingers, the way my heart stuttered once before settling into a faster rhythm.
She smiled warmly.
“Hi,” she said, walking over.
“Hi,” I answered, too aware of how flat my voice sounded.
Sophie slid into a chair across from me without ceremony. “You guys, shopping?”
“Shoes,” Mom said as she returned, Lily bouncing in her seat.
Claire’s gaze dropped immediately. “Oh my God, Lily, those shoes are adorable.”
Lily beamed. “They’re very fast.”
“I can tell,” Claire said seriously. “You look so cool.”
Lily giggled, then glanced at me, then at Claire and Sophie. I saw the idea form before she spoke.
“Uncle Ethan?” she said. “Can Aunt Claire and Sophie sit with us?”
I looked down at her, surprised, not by the request, but by the way she had come to me. Like of course I was the one to ask.
Mom noticed too.
I saw it in the way her eyes softened, the proud smile that curved her mouth as she watched Lily look to me for permission. That look wrapped around me and warmed me straight through.
“Of course,” I said, keeping my voice steady despite the tightness in my throat. “If they want to.”
Claire glanced at Sophie. Sophie grinned. “We want to.”
They pulled their chairs closer.
Claire sat across from me.
Close enough that I could smell her perfume, light and fruity. Close enough to see the faint freckles across her nose, the way her green eyes crinkled when she smiled at Lily.
Conversation flowed easily. Lily talked about her shoes. Sophie told a story about a babysitting disaster. Mom listened, relaxed and present in a way she hadn’t always been these past months.
I watched it all with quiet disbelief.
This was the life I’d always wanted. Not the chaos. Not the extremes.
This gentle, ordinary happiness.
And sitting across from me, laughing with Lily like she’d always belonged there, was the woman I’d never quite stopped loving.
For now, that was enough.