12. Chapter 12
Chapter 12
Abigail
T he cheerful clatter of plates and low hum of conversation fill the dining room as I move between tables, topping off coffee cups and serving full English breakfasts. My guests are a lively bunch this morning, all chatting animatedly about their plans for the day.
Through the open doorway, I catch a glimpse of Layla sitting at the kitchen table with Jon. She’s kneeling on the chair, her bowl of cereal almost forgotten as she peppers him with questions. The sight of her animated face and Jon’s attempts to keep up with her makes me smile despite the ache in my chest.
“Is it busy in London?” Layla’s voice carries into the dining room, loud enough that I can’t help but eavesdrop. “Mummy says it’s noisy and full of cars.”
“It is,” Jon replies, his voice steady. “Very busy, very noisy.”
“Do you like it?” she presses, leaning forward eagerly.
Jon pauses, and I glance up just in time to see him tilt his head, considering his answer. “Sometimes. It can be exciting, but it’s not always the best place for peace and quiet.”
Layla nods solemnly, as if she understands the weight of city living. “Where do you live? Do you have a big house?”
“I live in a flat,” Jon says, taking a sip of tea. “It’s not very big, but it’s enough for me.”
“Do you live alone?” Layla asks, her voice filled with innocent curiosity.
“I do,” Jon replies, his tone even. “Just me.”
Layla sits back, twirling her spoon in her cereal bowl. “Doesn’t that get lonely?”
I wince, almost dropping a plate as I watch Jon’s expression shift. He doesn’t look uncomfortable, exactly.
“Sometimes,” he admits softly. “But I stay busy, so it’s not too bad.”
Layla seems to mull this over for a moment before her face lights up. “Maybe we can visit you!”
Even from where I’m standing, I can sense Jon’s hesitation. He looks at her for a moment, his gaze steady but cautious, as though weighing every word before he speaks.
“Visiting London can be a lot of fun,” he says eventually, sidestepping the question but not dismissing it entirely. “There’s so much to see and do there.”
Layla beams at the thought, oblivious to the careful nuance of his reply. I force myself to turn back to my guests, but my mind stays in the kitchen, caught between the sweetness of Layla’s curiosity and the uncertainty of what Jon’s departure might mean for her—or for me.
I stand by the front door of Sunshine Cottage, clutching Layla’s school bag as the small white bus rumbles up the gravel path.
Today, Jon is leaving. My heart feels too heavy in my chest, like it’s sinking lower with every step we take toward the bus.
Layla walks between us, holding Jon’s hand tightly. Her usual chatter is nowhere to be found, replaced by a quiet that feels wrong for a child so full of life. I try to keep my own emotions in check, offering her a smile when she glances up at me with her big, glassy eyes.
The bus comes to a stop, its door creaking open, and Mrs. Hughes, the cheerful driver, leans out with a wave. “Morning, Layla! Morning, Abigail!”
“Good morning,” I manage to say, though my voice feels strained. Layla doesn’t answer. Her hand tightens around Jon’s, and I see her bottom lip tremble ever so slightly.
Jon kneels down, his hands resting gently on her small shoulders. “Hey, Sunshine,” he says softly. “You’ve got a big day ahead of you. School, your friends, and who knows what adventures, right?”
Layla sniffles, her eyes shimmering with tears she’s trying so hard to hold back. “But you won’t be here when I get back.”
His jaw tightens for a moment, and I see him swallow hard before answering. “No, I won’t. But you’re going to be just fine, Layla. You’re brave, and smart, and you’ve got your mum. She’s the best, isn’t she?”
Layla nods, her chin wobbling as she looks at me. “Yeah. ”
“And you know what?” Jon continues, his voice warm and steady. “I’ll always remember you. How could I not? You’re unforgettable.”
A small, tearful smile breaks through her sadness. “Really?”
“Really,” he assures her, tapping the tip of her nose gently. “Now, promise me you’ll keep being the amazing sunshine that you are, alright?”
Layla flings her arms around his neck, burying her face against his shoulder. “I’ll miss you, Doctor Jon.”
He hugs her tightly, his face buried in her hair. “I’ll miss you too, Sunshine.”
I stand there, frozen, my heart aching as I watch this exchange. It’s more than just a goodbye—it’s the breaking of a bond, a connection that grew stronger than I ever expected in such a short time. Layla pulls back, wiping her eyes on her sleeve, and Jon stands, his face carefully composed.
“Go on,” he says, his voice just a little rough. “The bus is waiting.”
Layla nods, sniffing again as she takes her backpack from me and climbs the steps of the bus. She pauses at the top, looking back at Jon one last time. He waves, a small but steady motion, and she waves back before disappearing inside.
The bus door closes with a hiss, and it rolls forward slowly, taking my little girl off to school and leaving a quiet void in its wake.
I glance at Jon, his hands now shoved into his pockets, his eyes fixed on the retreating bus. He’s so still, so composed, but I can feel the weight of his emotions as clearly as I feel my own.
“She’ ll be okay,” I say softly, though it’s as much for my benefit as his.
Jon nods, his gaze still on the road. “She’s tougher than I am.”
My chest tightens, and I fight the urge to reach out to him, to say something that could fill the silence hanging between us. But nothing feels like enough, so I stay quiet, standing by his side as we watch the bus disappear down the lane.
The sound of water splashing against the sink fills the quiet kitchen as I rinse the breakfast dishes, trying to focus on the mundane task instead of the ache that’s been settling in my chest all morning. The sun streams through the window, but it doesn’t do much to lift the heaviness in the air.
I hear footsteps behind me and turn to see Jon standing in the doorway. He looks calm, his bag slung over one shoulder, his suitcase behind him, but there’s a tension in his eyes that betrays him.
“Heading out?” I ask, my voice softer than usual.
“Yeah,” he replies, stepping further into the room. “Thought I’d come and say goodbye before I go.”
I dry my hands on a towel, trying to push down the lump forming in my throat. “All set for London?”
“As much as I can be.” He leans against the counter, the corner of his mouth twitching in a faint smile. “Not exactly looking forward to it, though. ”
I nod. “The investigation?”
“Yeah.” His expression darkens slightly. “It’s not just the questions they’ll ask—it’s everything I’ve been avoiding, you know? I’ll have to face it all, again.”
I step closer to him, instinctively reaching out to place a hand on his arm. “Jon, you’ve been facing it. Just being here, opening up about it, that’s part of the process. You’re stronger than you think.”
He meets my gaze, something flickering behind his eyes. “Doesn’t feel like it sometimes.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” I say gently. “You did everything you could.”
He exhales, a soft, weary sound. “That’s what I keep telling myself. Doesn’t always help.”
We stand there for a moment, his words lingering between us. Then, as if to break the tension, I force a small smile. “If it helps, I think you’re brave. Not many people would do what you did.”
He chuckles quietly. “Well, you’re biased.”
“Maybe,” I say with a teasing shrug. “But I’m usually right.”
The corners of his mouth lift in a real smile this time, and the tension eases slightly. “You are unusually stubborn.”
“Says the man who wouldn’t take no for an answer when it came to doing the dishes,” I quip, arching an eyebrow.
He grins, and for a moment, the heavy air lightens. “You can’t argue with my impeccable cleaning skills.”
“Oh, I absolutely can,” I retort, crossing my arms. “Layla still complains about finding flour under the toaster. ”
“Details,” he says, waving it off. “I stand by my methods.”
The casual banter settles something in me, like we’re both trying to hold onto this moment before he goes. But then he steps closer, and his expression softens.
“I’m going to miss this,” he says quietly. “Miss you.”
I feel my breath catch, but I manage a smile, even though my chest feels like it’s tightening by the second. “I’ll miss you too.”
We both lean in at the same time, our lips meeting in a gentle, lingering kiss. When we pull back, his arms wrap around me, holding me tightly against him. I close my eyes, letting myself savour the warmth and comfort of him one last time.
After a long moment, he leans back, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Thanks for everything, Abby. For this. For you.”
I force myself to smile through the ache. “The B&B is always here if you need another break from the world.”
His smile returns, faint but genuine. “Careful. I might take you up on that.”
“Good,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “You’d better.”
With one last squeeze, he steps back, his gaze lingering on me before he turns toward the door. I watch him go, my heart already missing him even though he hasn’t quite left yet.
The door closes softly behind him, and I turn back to the sink, the room suddenly feeling far too quiet.