18. Selene
Selene
The community center here is much like the one in Darby’s city.
Children dart between tables; volunteers carry boxes of supplies and the place smells of fresh bread.
The walls are painted in bright colors—blue, yellow, and green—trying to create a sense of warmth even though the building itself is old.
Darby and I walk toward the back, where a group of families is gathered, and I’m already smiling before we reach them. The place is so warm and bubbly.
Laughter fills the room, but not far from us, a small boy sits on the floor, crying into his hands. His knees are pulled up to his chest, and his sobs are loud enough to cut through the noise.
I pause, watching as Darby notices the boy, too.
Without a word, he walks over and kneels beside him.
He starts speaking, and even though I can’t hear exactly what he’s saying, I see the way his hand gently rubs the boy’s back.
The boy sniffs, wiping his face with his sleeve, but he doesn’t pull away from Darby’s touch.
I move closer, careful not to interrupt. Darby offers the boy a tissue from his pocket, and the boy takes it, blowing his nose loudly.
The boy hiccups through his tears. “I—I lost my backpack. It had all my coloring for mom in it, and my teacher is going to be mad.”
Darby nods, understanding. “What’s your name?”
“Liam,” the boy mumbles.
“Well, Liam, how about we make a deal?” Darby says, leaning in like he’s sharing a secret. “I’ll help you find your backpack, and if we can’t find it, I’ll talk to your teacher myself. Sound good?”
Liam wipes his eyes again and nods slowly. Darby grins and ruffles the boy’s messy hair before standing up and taking his hand. Together, they start looking around the room, checking under tables and behind chairs. Within minutes, Darby finds the small blue backpack wedged beneath a bench.
Liam’s face lights up, and he hugs the backpack to his chest. “Thank you!”
“No problem,” Darby says, giving him a thumbs-up. “And remember, teachers care about you, not just your homework. Don’t be afraid to ask for help, okay?”
Liam nods, his tears forgotten as he runs off to join the other kids.
Darby stands there for a moment, watching him go, and something about the way he looks makes my chest ache.
He’s good with kids—better than I ever imagined.
I wonder if he would’ve been like this with Leo. Kind, patient, comforting.
I shake the thought away. It’s too dangerous to think like that.
We head to the next room where a family waits for us—Maria, a single mother, and her three kids: her teenage son, Mateo, and her two young daughters, Sofia and Camila.
Maria’s dark hair is pulled into a loose braid, and her eyes are tired but kind.
Her children sit quietly beside her, Mateo scrolling through his phone while Sofia braids her sister’s hair.
I set up my notebook and recorder as Darby introduces himself. Maria smiles, her hands folded neatly in her lap. This is our last story for the trip, and I’m grateful I’ve gotten to hear from all these amazing people. Today is our last day. We will leave this afternoon.
She takes a deep breath and starts talking. “The project you’re working on for your community center means so much to mothers like me,” she says softly. “We’ve been coming to this center for a few years now. It’s helped me in ways I can’t even explain.”
I nod, encouraging her to continue.
“When I left my husband, I didn’t have anything,” Maria says, her fingers nervously twisting the edge of her sweater.
“No job, no money. Just my kids and a suitcase.” She glances at Mateo, and her voice wavers slightly.
“I wanted to protect them. That’s all I could think about.
I had to get them out of that environment. ”
Darby leans forward, his gaze focused entirely on her. I watch how his posture softens, and he listens without judgment. If there’s one thing he has proven during this trip, it’s that he’s not just here to boost the company’s image. He’s here because he cares.
Maria takes a deep breath. “This center gave me a place to start over. They helped me find a job, and now they’re helping my kids with after-school programs. Sofia and Camila love the reading classes.
Mateo gets help with his homework.” She pauses, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
“I would do anything for them. Anything to make sure they have a better life than I did.”
Her words hit me hard. My throat tightens, and I feel the sting of tears threatening to spill over.
I understand her. I know exactly what it feels like to carry that weight, to make sacrifices in silence just to give your child a chance.
I remember how often I felt like giving up when I had Leo and how hard it was to decide to disappear from Darby’s life.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, standing up. “I need a minute.”
I leave the room quickly, push open the door, and step outside. The cold air bites at my skin, but it’s a welcome distraction from the storm inside me. I lean against the wall, covering my mouth with my hand as the tears come.
I don’t know how long I stand there, but the sound of the door opening pulls me out of my thoughts. Darby steps outside, his gaze immediately finding mine. He doesn’t say anything. He just walks over and wraps his arms around me, pulling me into his chest.
I break down, my sobs muffled against his shirt. His hand rubs slow circles on my back, grounding me. He doesn’t ask why I’m crying. He doesn’t push for an explanation. He just holds me, and that’s enough.
When my breathing steadies, I pull back, wiping my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to fall apart.”
He shakes his head, his green eyes soft. “It’s ok. You don’t have to apologize.”
I sniff, managing a small smile. “I’m okay now. Let’s go back.”
We return to the room, and Maria smiles at me gently as if she knows what just happened but is too kind to mention it.
She continues telling us about her plans—how she wants to save enough money to open a small bakery.
The community project will provide her with the training and support she needs to get started.
By the time we leave, Maria’s words are still circling in my head. Her hope, her resilience—it’s overwhelming. And it serves as a reminder to me. I can’t lose Leo. I will do anything to keep him by my side. Even if it means never telling Darby the truth.
I’m a horrible person. I know damn well.
We say goodbye to the family, and as we walk back to the car, I can’t help but glance at Darby. He’s quiet and looks like he’s thinking about something, but when our eyes meet, he gives me a small smile.
Back at the suite, we finish packing our bags. The impact of the trip, the conversations, the stories, and the ‘other’ things we’ve experienced here linger in the air. More importantly, something between us feels different now. It’s like we’ve both changed and opened our eyes to other realities.
As I zip up my suitcase, I wonder if leaving this trip means leaving behind the connection we’ve rebuilt. And the idea of leaving scares me.
I’m lost in thought as we drive to the hangar, and even when we get into the jet, my mind continues to travel.
Outside, the sky is endless, a canvas of pale blues and streaks of white clouds.
I stare out the window, trying to let the view calm me.
Darby is sitting across from me, leaning back in the plush leather seat, his fingers drumming lightly against the armrest.
Every few seconds, I feel his gaze on me. His green eyes study me like he’s debating whether or not to say something. I sip from my water bottle, pretending not to notice, until I finally can’t take it anymore.
“What’s on your mind?” I ask, turning to face him fully. Maybe hearing what’s on his mind would distract me from what’s on mine.
He doesn’t look away. Instead, he leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. His expression is serious, but there’s a softness there, too. “I owe you an apology.”
I blink, caught off guard. “For what?”
He runs a hand through his chestnut hair, sighing.
“For being an asshole to you. Especially when we first saw each other again at the beach.” He grits his teeth, and he continues.
“I didn’t know what to do when I saw you that night.
My mind was processing all sorts of emotions, and instead of taking my time and figuring shit out, I decided to pick two emotions and focus on them.
I chose bitterness and anger and ended up acting like a total asshole towards you. ”
I can not only hear the sincerity in his voice, it’s written all over his face. I know he means what he’s saying. As good as the apology feels, I don’t know if I deserve it. I place the water bottle on the small table between us and lean back in my seat. “Darby—”
He shakes his head, cutting me off. “Please, just let me say this.” He sighs. “You left without a word, Selene. I was devastated. And I know it’s not an excuse for how I treated you, but at the time, all I could think about was hurting you back.
His words hang heavy between us. The sound of the jet feels louder now as if it’s trying to amplify the tension in the room.
“I searched everywhere for you,” he says, and this time his voice cracks.
“I went to every contact I could think of. I visited all the dorms, hoping you might have left a word behind. I called your friends, even people you barely knew. I checked hospitals, thinking maybe something happened to you.” His fingers tighten around the edge of the armrest, knuckles turning white.
“I drove to your dorm several times and sat outside for hours, thinking maybe you’d show up. ”
My chest tightens. I can see the pain etched into his features—the same pain I caused. I grip the hem of my sweater, and a sick feeling rises in my stomach.
He exhales sharply as if saying this out loud has drained him. “I almost lost my damn mind, Selene. I kept wondering if you were okay, if you were happy, or if something terrible had happened. And when I finally gave up, when I accepted that you were gone, it broke me.”
I swallow hard, my throat aching. My vision blurs slightly as tears gather at the corners of my eyes. I look away, unable to face him. God. I deserve the death sentence. Don’t I?
“But despite all this,” he whispers. “Calling you a slut and making light of your hard work is still inexcusable. This trip has shown me how hard you work and how much you care, and seeing you break down after hearing that woman's story…it must have reminded you of your son.”
I close my eyes and swallow the lump in your throat.
“You did a hell of a job bringing him up, and I’m sorry for downplaying that.”
I take a deep breath, steadying myself before turning back to him. There are a million and one things I can say at this moment, but I decide to be the bad guy through and through. “Apology accepted.”
He releases a sigh of relief, leaning back into his seat. The tension in his shoulders loosens, but his gaze stays on me like he’s waiting for something more.
He opens his mouth to speak, but I quickly shake my head. “I’m tired, Darby. I think I’m going to try to sleep.”
The words leave me in a rush, and I can see the slight hesitation in his eyes. But he nods. “Okay. Rest up.”
I stand and make my way to the small room in the back of the jet. It’s cozy, with a neatly made bed. I close the door behind me and crawl under the blanket, pulling it tightly around me. But sleep doesn’t come.
His words replay in my head. The desperation in his voice, the way his eyes softened when he admitted how much he searched for me. I clutch the edge of the blanket, my fingers digging into the fabric.
I didn’t think he would care that much. I thought he’d move on, that my absence would sting for a moment and then fade. But it didn’t. He didn’t forget me. And now, knowing just how much I hurt him makes the guilt unbearable.
I think of Leo. The way Darby comforted that little boy at the community center. The way he crouched down and spoke gently, never once making the boy feel small or foolish. He’s good with kids. Better than I imagined.
He would have been a good father to Leo.
That thought is a knife to the chest. I bury my face in the pillow, trying to block it out, but the guilt presses down harder. It would break him again if he ever finds out the truth—that Leo is his son. And I can’t do that to him. I can’t be the one to destroy him twice.
The only way to protect him is to keep my distance.
When the plane lands, Darby offers to take me home, but I force a smile and shake my head. “I’m fine. I’ll grab a cab.”
He frowns. “Are you sure?”
“Positive,” I say, stepping back to physically create distance between us. “Thank you, though.”
He watches me for a moment as if trying to figure out what’s really going on. I hold my breath, hoping he won’t see through me. Eventually, he nods and walks toward the car waiting for him.
I stand there, watching his figure disappear into the distance. My heart feels heavy like it’s dragging me down. When the cab pulls up, I get in, and as we drive away, I press my forehead against the cool window.
I know this is the right choice. But it doesn’t feel like it.