Chapter 17
Sophie was quiet the entire car ride.
She sat curled in the passenger seat, hands tucked into her sleeves, her eyes out the window like she was watching the road bend toward something she wasn’t sure she was ready for.
I was coming home but not as a ghost, not as a promise.}
This time, it was a choice.
When we pulled into the driveway, the porch light flicked on before we even got out. Marcus must’ve been watching from the window. His outline appeared behind the screen door–tall, still, hesitant.}
Sophie unbuckled first. She didn’t rush, but she didn’t linger either. When she walked up the steps, Marcus opened the door slowly.
She didn’t hug him.
But she went inside.}
“Hi,” he said, not moving.
“Hi,” I whispered back.
That was enough.
I followed a few steps behind.
The house smelled like lemon cleaner and old memories. Same floors. Same picture frames. Same weight pressing on my chest. Only this time, it wasn’t suffocating.
Sophie went straight to the kitchen. “We’re doing pasta,” she said, like no time had passed. “You still like garlic, right?”
I blinked. “Always.”
Marcus moved wordlessly, already pulling down the pasta pot. His movements were precise, careful but not like a habit, but like he was trying to remember how to be useful.
We moved around each other like dancers who hadn’t rehearsed in years. No shouting. No apologies. Just the rhythm of doing things together.”
It was awkward. At first.
But then Sophie started humming under her breath.
She pointed to the counter. “You can chop the parsley.”
I nodded. The tension didn’t fall away, it shifted. Became something closer to normal. Or the version of normal we used to fake.
Sophie then tossed a tomato at me and told me to dice it. Marcus grated cheese too finely and got scolded for it. I nearly burned the garlic because I couldn’t stop watching them.
And somewhere between the sauce and the boiling water, we started to feel like… something.
Not a perfect family.
But a real one.}
Marcus didn’t say much. But he watched everything. Watched me. Watched Sophie. Like he was memorizing the shape of what he nearly lost.”
When we sat down, we ate at the table without a television on. Sophie told a story about a boy in her class who thought the moon was fake. Marcus laughed, really laughed for the first time in weeks.
༤༢ཪ ་
And I just watched them, fork in hand, knowing for once I was allowed to belong.
Halfway through dinner, Sophie stood and disappeared down the hall without explanation. She came back with a folded piece of paper and a look on her face that made my throat tighten.
She handed it to me without a word.”
It was a photo. Worn. Bent at the edges. I unfolded it carefully.
Me, Isabelle, and Sophie. In the backyard. Covered in paints.
I stared at it for a long time.”
“I kept it under my pillow,” Sophie said. “After you left.”
I couldn’t speak.
“It reminded me that once, we were okay,” she added.”
I placed the photo gently on the table. “We were. Maybe we still are.”
She didn’t smile, but she didn’t disagree either.”
After dinner, Sophie disappeared again upstairs. “Homework,” she said, which I knew meant that it’s time for us to talk.
Marcus and I cleared the table in silence.}
When he brought the last plate to the sink, I reached for the towel to dry it but he stopped me.
“Wait,” he said. “There’s something I want to give you.”
I turned slowly.
Б
10
0490
t, opened the top drawer, and returned will a Sillall DOX.
My heart stuttered.M
“Marcus-“N
He knelt.
“This isn’t a proposal,” he said quickly. “I promise.“}
He opened the box.
Inside was a thin silver ring with no stone, no shine. Just simple. Etched inside, in tiny script, were the words: Hope is a quiet thing.
“I didn’t know what I was doing when I married you,” he said. “I didn’t treat it like a marriage. I didn’t treat you like a partner.“}
I looked away, tears stinging.
“But I didn’t get this for marriage,” he said. “I got it because I wanted you to know that I see you now. I see everything you carried. And I want to do better. For Sophie. For you. For me.”
My throat tightened.
“I want to try. Not because of Isabelle. Not because we made a promise. But because we’re here now. And I finally want to be in this, fully.”
I looked at the ring.
It was beautiful in the plainest, softest way.}
And I wanted to say yes.
But instead, I said…
“No.”
C
1/2
