Chapter 39 Day Two
Sophie showed up at the bakery at noon with coffee and determination.
"Okay, spill," she said, setting an oat milk latte in front of Ariella. "You disappear for three weeks, come back married to a billionaire, bury your father-in-law, and now you're acting like everything's normal. What the actual fuck, Ari?"
Ariella had been avoiding this conversation. But Sophie deserved the truth.
So she told her everything.
The contract. The arrangement. The way it had stopped being fake somewhere between swimming lessons and late-night confessions. The kiss. The press conference. Richard's death. The week apart to figure out what they actually wanted.
Sophie listened without interrupting, her expression cycling through shock, anger, concern, and finally something that looked almost like understanding.
"So you're in love with him," Sophie said when Ariella finished.
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to. I can hear it in your voice. See it in your face. You're gone for him, Ari."
"It's complicated."
"Love is always complicated. That's not an excuse." Sophie took a sip of her coffee. "But here's my question: do you trust him?"
"With what?"
"With you. The real you. Not the performance version. Not the girl trying to save everyone. But the actual, messy, broken you."
Ariella thought about Aiden holding her while she cried about Ethan. About the way he'd told a room full of journalists that she made him want to be better. About how he saw her guilt and her grief and stayed anyway.
"Yeah," she said. "I think I do."
"Then why are you here instead of there?"
"Because trusting someone doesn't mean losing myself in them. I need to know I can stand on my own before I choose to stand with him."
"That's very mature and self-aware and I hate it."
"Why?"
"Because I was all ready to tell you to run back to him and have a dramatic reunion. But you're being practical and it's very disappointing."
Ariella laughed. "Sorry to ruin your romance novel moment."
"You should be. I've been planning the soundtrack in my head all morning." Sophie leaned forward. "But seriously, Ari. What are you going to do? At the end of the week?"
"I don't know yet."
"Liar. You know. You're just scared to say it out loud."
Ariella wanted to deny it. But Sophie knew her too well.
"I'm going back," she admitted quietly. "I'm going to choose him. Choose us. Whatever that means."
"Even though it's terrifying?"
"Especially because it's terrifying. Because the alternative, not trying, not fighting for something real, that's more terrifying than anything else."
Sophie pulled her into a hug. "I'm proud of you. You know that, right? You've survived so much. And you're still choosing to be brave."
"I don't feel brave."
"Brave people never do. That's what makes them brave."
Ariella's phone buzzed.
“Went to therapy. You were right. I needed it.”
“How was it?”
“Hard. Cried for like forty minutes. My therapist says I have 'unresolved grief and control issues stemming from childhood trauma.”
“Shocking.”
“I know. Who could have seen that coming? Anyway, she wants me to work on 'sitting with uncertainty' and 'releasing the need to control outcomes.”
“That sounds healthy.”
“It sounds impossible. But I'm trying.”
“I'm proud of you.”
“Don't be proud yet. I'm still a disaster.”
“You're my disaster.”
“Am I? Still?”
Four more days and you'll find out.
“You're cruel.”
“You like it.”
“I really do.”
“Sophie read over her shoulder. "You two are disgusting."
"We're not disgusting. We're…"
"Disgustingly cute. Even worse." Sophie grinned. "But I approve. For the record. He seems good for you."
"Yeah. He is."
Day Three
Ariella spent the day with her mother, not working but just being together.
They went to the park where Ethan used to play basketball. Sat on a bench and watched teenagers who reminded them of him, tall, gangly, full of impossible confidence.
"I can think about him now without wanting to die," Claire said quietly. "That feels like progress. Or betrayal. I'm not sure which."
"Progress," Ariella said firmly. "Grief isn't supposed to kill us. We're allowed to survive it."
"Are we? Because some days it feels like surviving means forgetting. And I don't want to forget him."
"You won't. None of us will. He's…" Ariella touched the bracelet she'd been wearing since he died, the one he'd given her for her sixteenth birthday. "He's in every good thing we do. Every time we laugh. Every time we choose to keep going."
"That sounds like something Aiden would say."
"He's rubbing off on me."
"Is that a good thing?"
"I think so. He makes me see things differently. Makes me believe that maybe we're allowed to be happy even after losing people we love."
Her mother took her hand. "You deserve to be happy, Ari. With or without Aiden. With or without any of this. Just happy."
"I'm working on it."
"I know. And I'm sorry I couldn't help more. After Ethan. I just…I fell apart. Left you to pick up the pieces alone."
"You were grieving. You're allowed to grieve."
"And so are you. But you never let yourself. You just kept going, kept working, kept trying to save me." Claire's voice cracked. "I'm sorry I let you carry so much."
"You're carrying it now. That's what matters."
They sat in the park until the sun started setting, talking about Ethan and grief and the future they were building from the rubble of the past.
When they got home, Ariella found three texts from Aiden.
“Marcus says we need to make a decision about Winters soon. The evidence expires in 60 days if we don't file charges.”
“I don't know what to do. Part of me wants to burn him to the ground. Part of me just wants peace.”
“What would you do?”
Ariella stared at the messages for a long time.
“This was heavy. This was exactly the kind of conversation they'd agreed to avoid. But it was also real. Important. The kind of decision they'd have to make together.”
“What does your gut say?” she typed.
“That my mom deserves justice. That Ethan deserves justice. That all of Winters' victims deserve to see him pay.”
“But?”
“But I'm tired. So fucking tired of fighting. Of carrying other people's battles. Of being responsible for outcomes I can't control.”
“You don't have to decide alone.”
“I know. But I'm terrified of making the wrong choice. If I go after Winters and it destroys…you, me, Lily, then what was the point? But if I don't and he hurts someone else, that's on me too.
“It's not on you. You're not responsible for what Winters does.”
“My therapist says the same thing. I don't believe either of you.”
“We'll figure it out. Together. When I come back.”
“When you come back. Promise?”
“Promise.”
Three more days.
Three more days.