Chapter 25 025
EMILY
I moved immediately from where I was sitting on the bed, phone still pressed to my ear, my heart racing so hard it felt like it was beating against my throat. Ryan was talking, his voice rushed and uneven, like he already knew he had messed up and was scrambling to fix it before things got worse.
“Please, Emily,” he said. “I forgot to tell you about it today. It’s not like I haven’t mentioned it before.”
That was what did it.
I laughed, but there was no humor in it. The sound came out sharp and brittle, foreign even to my own ears. “You should have at least texted me the moment you got there,” I said, pacing the length of the bedroom. “Or did you forget that part too?”
He sighed. That familiar sigh that used to mean he wanted me to calm down so he could avoid the discomfort of the conversation. “Look, Em… can we talk about this later?”
“Ohhh… really?” My voice rose before I could stop it, anger spilling over every word. “We’re definitely talking about it now.”
I could hear movement on his end, fabric brushing against fabric, like he had turned his body away from the phone. I pictured it easily. Ryan standing somewhere in his parents’ living room, lowering his voice, trying to manage everyone at once. He had always been good at that. Making sure no one else felt awkward. Making sure I waited my turn.
Then her voice cut in.
Clear. Calm. Cold.
“I’m spending time with my granddaughter and you’re interrupting us.”
The words landed like a slap straight across my face.
“Excuse me—” I started, breath catching.
The line went dead.
I stopped moving. Just stood there, phone still pressed to my ear, staring at nothing. The screen had already gone dark, reflecting my own face back at me. Pale. Furious. Hurt.
What the hell.
How dare her.
The anger came fast and hard, rushing through me like a wave I couldn’t outrun. These people were trying to mess with me. Trying to assert control. Trying to remind me that no matter how many years I had spent doing everything alone, they still thought they had a right to step in and take over.
For three years, I had been everything to Zara.
I had been the one who woke up in the middle of the night when she cried. The one who learned the difference between her hungry cry and her tired cry and the one that meant she just needed to be held. I was the one who knew she liked her blanket tucked just under her chin, not over her shoulders. I was the one who sang the same off-key lullaby every night until she fell asleep.
I was her comfort. Her safety. Her home.
And now Cecilia thought she could dismiss me with one sentence and a click.
I got changed immediately. I didn’t think about it. Just moved on instinct. Soft leggings. An oversized hoodie. Sneakers shoved onto my feet. I didn’t even know why I was dressing like I planned to go somewhere. I just needed to move. Needed my body doing something so my hands wouldn’t shake so badly.
I went downstairs and flipped on the kitchen light. The sudden brightness made me squint. I poured a glass of water and set it on the counter, watching it for a moment like it might tell me what to do next. I didn’t drink it. I just stood there, staring out the window at the dark street, replaying the call in my head.
Damn Ryan.
Damn his family.
Damn all of them for acting like this was some kind of punishment I deserved.
Eventually the anger burned itself out, leaving something heavier behind. Something that sat in my chest and made it hard to breathe. I walked into the living room and sat down on the couch, pulling a throw pillow against my chest like it might anchor me.
The house felt wrong without Zara.
Too quiet. Too empty. No little footsteps. No random questions. No small voice asking for juice or cartoons or telling me she loved me for no reason at all.
I don’t remember falling asleep, but I must have, because the sound of the doorbell jolted me awake. It rang again, sharp and insistent, slicing through the quiet.
My heart jumped into my throat.
I stood quickly, the blanket slipping off my lap, and went to the door. I checked the peephole.
Ryan.
My stomach flipped violently.
I opened the door without thinking, anger and relief colliding inside me. He stood there holding Zara, her small body curled into his, completely asleep. Her cheek was squished against his shoulder, her mouth slightly open, her lashes resting softly against her skin.
The sight of her knocked the breath out of me.
I reached for her immediately, arms already aching. Ryan transferred her carefully into my embrace, adjusting his hold until she was settled against my chest. She didn’t stir. Just sighed softly, safe and warm.
I breathed her in, my face pressed to her hair, grounding myself in her familiar scent.
“Thanks,” I said stiffly, not looking at him. “You can leave now.”
He didn’t move.
“I think we need to establish boundaries,” he said.
I let out a humorless laugh, bitterness spilling out before I could stop it. “Boundaries, you say?”
Zara shifted in my arms, murmuring something unintelligible, and my entire body softened instantly. My voice dropped without effort. “Can we maybe do this some other day?”
He shook his head. “No. I’ll wait for you.”
I stared at him for a long second. Really looked at him. The set of his shoulders. The determination in his eyes. The quiet insistence that said he wasn’t leaving.
“Fine,” I said finally.
I carried Zara upstairs, each step careful, deliberate. I laid her gently in her bed, tucked the blanket around her shoulders, and brushed my lips against her forehead. She sighed in her sleep and curled slightly onto her side, one hand clutching her pillow.
I stood there for a moment, just watching her, letting the steady rise and fall of her chest calm the storm inside me.
Then I went back downstairs.
Ryan was still there, waiting.
I stepped outside and closed the door behind me, the click loud in the quiet night. The air was cool against my skin, grounding and sharp.
I crossed my arms and met his gaze.
“Let’s talk.”