Chapter 121 The Visit

Chapter 121 The Visit
Fiona’s POV

‘A little change,’ she says, but here I am taking a huge step. I didn’t tell Nick or anyone. If they knew, they wouldn’t allow me.

Pulling up to the open parking lot of the state correctional center, I eye the big, old building. The paint is wearing off, and there are several cracks on the wall that I fear might collapse any time soon. It’s not just a building—this is where several convicted offenders are serving their sentences. Murderers, rapists, armed robbers, and even petty thieves are locked up in this building. I inhale sharply before stepping out.

‘Do it with intent.’

What intention do I have, coming to see an old friend here? It’s not safe for me, or anyone. I’m pregnant. I should turn back and head home, but my feet betray me. I’m not here to see Steph. I’m here to see Daphne.

She’s someone I haven’t stopped thinking of since. Maybe it’s because we didn’t get to talk at length, or the fact that our memories still linger in the office. The security guards recognize me, and something tells me that Nick will learn of this sooner or later.

After some time, they lead me to the visitation room while I wait for her. My heart is pounding hard against my ribs. My eyes are glued to the floor when I hear footsteps on the other side of the glass partition.

“Fiona.” Her voice is different from what I remember. Tentatively, I drag my gaze to her.

She looks… smaller somehow. Hollowed cheeks, dark circles under her eyes—like sleep and stress have been her constant companions. Her frame seems scrawny, shoulders slumped, arms thin and almost fragile. It’s just been a few months, and it feels like I’m looking at a whole different person.

I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

“How are you?” Her eyes scan my body before she sits down. My heart is aching, and for a moment, I forget everything she has put me through and want to bail her out. The months behind bars have carved lines into her face that weren’t there before—lines that speak of nights spent awake, of worries and maybe regrets.

“Daphne.” I swallow, a lump burning down my throat.

“You are pregnant.” She smiles. Genuine. Oh, I am overthinking it. She seems chatty compared to that last time at the detention center.

“Yes. I’m nearing delivery.”

“You shouldn’t be here. The air isn’t good for… you and your baby.”

“I know,” I say curtly, now looking at her. We are both staring at each other, not as friends, not as strangers, but as strangers with memories. Oddly, I’m not here to ask her anything about the past. I just want to see her.

“How are you?” I finally ask, not knowing what to expect from someone I sent to jail.

She draws in a sharp breath before answering. “I’m not as okay as I thought I’d be, but I’ll be fine.” Her lashes flutter. “What about you? I should be asking you that, after….”

We let the weight of her unfinished words sit with us.

“I’m attending therapy,” I blurt out. It’s only been for a day. Plus, I’m not sure if I’ll be returning there. I might.

Her face falls, but she still shoots me a sad smile.

“I’m not broken. I’ll be fine too.” I don’t want to settle on that. “How is it here?”

Stupid question! But I don’t have anything better to say.

“The same. Eat, work, eat, sleep. A little peaceful, though.” She pauses. “It was harder at first, but—” she laughs, “I still can’t get used to it.”

My fingers curl slightly around the edge of the chair.

“It’s a bit easier now. Colin visits often.”

I smile, sincerely. I’m glad that her love story didn’t end then. A love that endures even in tough times—the same love Nick showed me during my dark times.

“You got your Prince Charming,” I tease, the air lighter.

She laughs again, wiping a stray tear. “Yes. I thought he only existed in my fantasy. He’s promising to wait until I’m out to marry me.” Excitement dances on her rather dim features. “Like he can wait fifteen years. I’ll be thirty-nine by then.”

Now I don’t know what to say again.

“I’m sorry I won’t be attending your wedding, or worse, planning it. We’ve spoken a lot about how our weddings will be. But wait for me; I promise you will plan mine when I get out.” The honesty in her voice breaks my control.

Tears flow freely down my face. My body shakes as I try to stifle my sobs.

“I’m sorry, Fiona. For everything.”

Her apology only fuels my pain. My heart is squeezing while I struggle to breathe. I thought I was past this. My therapist wasn’t wrong; I was just avoiding the emotions. My pregnancy served as a distraction from everything. I still don’t even know the therapist’s name.

Wiping my tears, I breathe through my mouth before looking at her again.

“Will you wait for me?”

I nod my head aggressively. Can I talk Nick into lightening her sentence? His father can help out with that.

They are not on good terms, my subconscious reminds me.

“Tell your baby…”

“Her,” I croak. “She’s a girl.”

“Even better. Tell her to wait for me.”

She’ll be fourteen by the time Daphne finishes her sentence.

“You were so excited to be an aunt to Duncan,” I point out, taking deep breaths.

“And I’m still excited to be. You better get creative with her name. Don’t give her some lame name like Rita or Stella. Or do you need help looking for names?” she teases.

“Maybe.” I laugh.

Being here is healing a part of me. Who would have thought facing your emotions would make you feel relieved, even if it means running back to those that hurt you? Although some people will never change—Steph already gave me a different type of closure.

“Will you visit often, or am I asking too much? It’s boring here,” she pouts.

“I will.”

“Congratulations, Fiona. You see… letting go of the Charles guy was worth it.”

I smile. How do I tell her that Charles is Nick’s stepbrother? That will be a discussion for next time.

‘Next time.’

Coming here, I didn’t know I’d want to come again.