Chapter 14%
Marcus’s POV
The holding cell was cold. It was quiet and grim, but it gave me something I hadn’t had in years: time to sit in the wreckage of myself.
Though the steel bench beneath me bit through the thin fabric of my slacks but in the way it pressed on the worst parts of a man’s conscience.
There were only two other guys in the corner, both too drunk to remember their names. The officer hadn’t even bothered with handcuffs. I wasn’t dangerous. Just another middle–aged man who made a mess of everything.
Ava had screamed louder than she needed to. Said Callie slapped her in a jealous rage. Left out the part where she read Isabelle’s letter aloud like a party trick. Omitted the part where she stole it.
Callie had tried to speak, voice shaking, hands clenched. I saw it, the part of her that wanted to lose control. To grab the letter, to scream, to break. But she didn’t. I stepped in.§
“I hit her,” I told the officer.}
It was too clean, too unbelievable, but Ava went along with it.”
Maybe because she wanted Callie to watch me fall instead. Maybe because it gave her power.
I should have known.
I should’ve stopped Ava months ago.
I should’ve been the one to find that letter first, to protect Isabelle’s words, to protect Callie from them being weaponized.}
But I didn’t.
I failed Callie.
I had failed Isabelle.
And worst of all, I was failing Sophie.}
When morning came, a young officer with soft eyes and tired hands unlocked the cell.
“You’re free to go, Dr. Hale,” he muttered. “Charges won’t be filed. Witness said it was a ‘misunderstanding.”
I didn’t ask who. Maybe someone had taken pity. Maybe Ava had sobered up and realized pressing charges would do more harm than good.
Didn’t matter. The damage was already done.
I walked outside into the morning sun, blinking. Callie wasn’t there. Of course not. I told her not to wait. I wanted her gone. Safe.}
Still, the ache of her absence sat hard in my chest.
I took a cab home. The driver was chatty. I wasn’t. When I stepped into the house, Sophie’s backpack was on the floor, its contents spilled like a tiny storm had passed through. Crayons, a paper star she never finished, a picture of a flower in black ink.
Aunt May gave me a look when I came in. She didn’t ask what happened. Just said, “You’re lucky it didn’t go further.”}
“Where’s Sophie?” I asked.}
“Upstairs. She’s not really talking to anyone.“>
“Is she okay?“}
Aunt May gave a tight shrug. “She’s sulking.”}}
“Why?”
“Because Callie didn’t come back with you. She’s at my house, and Sophie thinks it means she’s staying there forever.”>
That landed like a punch. “She’s not.“>
“Well, then go tell her that.“>
I climbed the stairs slowly. Every step felt like a mile.
Her door was half–shut, the way she always left it when she wanted you to notice her but not talk. I knocked lightly.
“Sophie?”
Nothing.”
I nudged it open. She was lying on her bed, facing the wall, arms wrapped around her pillow like she was bracing for something. “Hey,” I said softly.”
She didn’t move.”
“Callie just needed time. That’s all.”
Silence.”
“She’ll come back.”
Still nothing.
I sat at the edge of the bed. “I know it doesn’t feel fair. She should’ve come home. But she’s hurting, too. She’s not gone.” Sophie let out a sigh, muffled by the pillow. “She promised she’d come back.”
“She will.“%
“She should’ve come home last night. I could’ve comforted her.”
Remarying My Brother–in–law
11:16 AM
“She will.”
“She should’ve come home last night. I could’ve comforted her.“}
There was nothing else I could say that would fix what the silence already did. She wasn’t angry. Just hurt. The kind of hurt that comes from missing someone but not wanting to say it out loud.
She stayed curled up, and I stayed there, not saying anything else, just in case she needed me to not leave.
Eventually, I went downstairs. Let her have the space. Let her sulk. She’d earned it.”
Later that night, I sat in the dark kitchen with a glass of water that tastes like dust. The silence was deafening. I thought I’d known loneliness.
But this was different. This was being erased by the people you loved.}}
Aunt May didn’t speak to me again. She fed Sophie, made sure she was clean and safe and surrounded by quiet warmth. None of which came from me.
I went to bed early. I didn’t sleep.N
Around 2 a.m., I heard footsteps. I didn’t move, just listened. Soft padding down the hall, a door creaking open. Then another sound, like a music box. One of Isabelle’s.
Sophie must’ve opened it.N
I didn’t check. I didn’t want to scare her. I just stared at the ceiling, letting the memories claw through my chest.
Then I heard her cry.
A small, sharp sob. Not like before. Not loud. But jagged, like she was trying not to let it escape.}
I sat up slowly. Slipped from the bed and walked toward her room.
The door was ajar.
She sat cross–legged on the floor in her pajamas, the lid of Isabelle’s old swan–shaped music box open beside her. The soft melody played familiar, haunting. Her little fingers trembled as she held a small ivory envelope.
She didn’t see me. She was reading the name.§
“To my daughter, for when I’m gone.”
33
