Chapter 66 066
EMILY
The doorbell rang just a few minutes after eight.
I glanced at the clock instinctively, my heart giving a small, excited kick. Right on time. That felt like a good sign.
I wiped my hands on the dish towel again even though they were already dry and peeked into the living room.
Zara was curled on the couch, watching Bluey, her little legs tucked under the throw blanket, stuffed bunny hugged tight to her chest. She laughed softly at something on the screen, the sound light and carefree, and for a moment I just stood there watching her, letting the calm sink in.
Morgan had left about an hour earlier, waving goodbye with that knowing grin she wore whenever she thought something interesting was about to happen. Text me later, she’d said, eyebrows wiggling. I want details.
I’d rolled my eyes, but my nerves hadn’t stopped buzzing since.
The kitchen smelled incredible. I’d gone overboard—roast chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, glazed carrots, fresh rolls still wrapped in a clean cloth, even a small chocolate cake cooling on the counter for dessert. Way too much food for a simple dinner. But Ryan had texted earlier, said he’d come over tonight like he promised.
We’d eat together. Talk.
Maybe more.
The thought sent a nervous-happy flutter through my stomach, the kind I hadn’t felt in years. Not the anxious dread I’d grown used to—but something hopeful. Fragile. Dangerous.
I rinsed my hands one last time on the towel and walked to the door.
When I opened the door, my smile froze.
Cecilia stood there.
She looked immaculate, as always—tailored coat draped casually over one arm, hair perfectly styled, makeup flawless. Like she’d stepped straight out of a magazine spread titled Effortlessly Superior Woman Who Has Never Been Wrong in Her Life. Every inch of her radiated control, confidence, and a sense of untouchable authority.
“Hi,” she said brightly, voice smooth and warm, the kind that made it sound like we were old friends catching up on tea and gossip.
I forced a nervous smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “What are you doing here, Cecilia?”
“Oh, nothing.” She waved one manicured hand dismissively, as if the question were beneath her. “Just checking on you. Seeing how you’re doing. Wanted to make sure Zara is adjusting well.”
Damn, this woman is jobless, I thought, rolling my eyes inwardly, but I stepped aside anyway, because politeness had always been my weakness.
She walked past me without waiting for an invitation, eyes sweeping the living room slowly, deliberately, like she was appraising real estate instead of the home where her granddaughter lived.
Her gaze lingered on the furniture, the clean counters, the way the light hit the walls, almost as if she were assessing whether it was up to her standard.
Zara noticed her instantly.
“Grandma!” she squealed, scrambling off the couch and running straight into Cecilia’s arms.
Cecilia’s face softened immediately. The sharpness I had seen in her since the divorce melted away, replaced by something warm and genuine. She bent down, lifted Zara high, kissed both cheeks loudly, then hugged her close.
“Oh, my sweet girl,” she cooed.
Zara giggled, wrapping her arms around Cecilia’s neck, bunny dangling dangerously close to the floor.
I couldn’t help but smile at the sight. For a brief, fleeting second, everything felt… normal. Almost like family. Almost like the past hadn’t been such a jagged, bleeding mess.
When they finally let go of each other, Cecilia set Zara down gently and glanced toward the dining table. The food was still warm under the covers, plates set neatly for three.
“Oh,” she said lightly, voice almost casual. “You were about to have dinner. Sorry for interrupting.”
Before I could answer, Zara opened her big mouth.
“No, we’re waiting for Daddy,” she announced proudly, eyes sparkling. “Mummy said we would eat together tonight.”
My heart skipped.
Cecilia’s eyebrows lifted just the slightest fraction. “Ohhh…” She crouched down to Zara’s level, smile sweet and practiced. “Go wait for me in your room, sweetheart. Grandma’s coming.”
“Okay!” Zara chirped, already turning and racing upstairs, feet thumping happily on the steps.
The second she disappeared from sight, Cecilia straightened, and the warmth she’d carried evaporated entirely.
She turned to me slowly, lips curving into a cool, controlled smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Look, Emily,” she said, dropping her voice into that calm, cutting tone she reserved for moments when she wanted to sound reasonable while slicing through anyone standing in her way. “The only reason I’m here tonight is to ask how you’re faring with the new girl in my son’s life.”
My stomach tightened, and I swallowed hard, trying not to let my pulse show in my face.
“And I can see you’re not coping well,” she continued smoothly, like a practiced lecture, “since you’re telling my granddaughter about the happy family you’re planning to create.”
I took a deep breath, fingers curling at my sides. “I… I’m lost?”
She scoffed softly, shaking her head with an audible tsk. “Oh, please. Emily, you know exactly what I mean. Don’t play coy.”
Her presence felt heavier now, like the air itself was tense. She took a step closer—not aggressive, just purposeful enough to make sure her shadow fell over me.
“My son won’t be coming to yours tonight,” she said, each word measured and deliberate.
I stared at her, my jaw tightening, and then let a thin, tight smile creep across my face. “If you have something to say, Cecilia, better spill it now. Stop with the whole fake care act.”
She tilted her head, lips curling into that smirk I hated—the one that always made me feel like I’d just lost a round before it even started.
“He’s moved on from you,” she said calmly, almost kindly, like she was delivering good news. “And I’m happy for my son. You had him on a chokehold for the longest time, and I suppose I should be grateful he’s managed to free himself.”
My heart began pounding so loudly I thought she could hear it.
“And as we speak,” she added smoothly, with a small, victorious gleam in her eye, “he’s with Miranda.”
I felt my stomach twist. My hands balled into fists at my sides. I wanted to argue, to yell, to tell her that she had no idea what she was saying. That she’d never understand what Ryan and I shared—or that I didn’t care who he spent his time with anymore.
But the words lodged in my throat.
Cecilia watched me, almost amused now, waiting for the impact of her statement to settle.
“Emily,” she said, voice soft but razor-sharp, “don’t take this the wrong way. I’m only trying to look out for my son… and for you, in a way. It’s better to accept reality than to live in denial.”
I laughed, short and bitter, my lips tight. “Reality, huh? Is reality that you just show up uninvited, stand in my home, and tell me my daughter’s father has moved on?”
She tilted her head, almost thoughtfully. “I’m not here to be cruel, dear. I’m here to prepare you. Ryan is a man of his choices. You should know where you stand.”
I stepped closer, my chest tight. “And you think showing up like this helps me how exactly? Zara’s upstairs, safe and happy, thinking tonight is special—and you waltz in and ruin that?”
Cecilia didn’t flinch. “Happiness is fragile, Emily. It’s best to be aware of potential cracks before they splinter everything.”
I shook my head, tension coiling inside me. “You’re unbelievable.”
She smiled faintly, almost indulgent. “Perhaps. But I know my son. And I know where his heart lies at this very moment.”
I took a slow breath, gripping the counter to steady myself, the air between us crackling. “Well, if you really must know,” I said, voice low but firm, “I don’t care where he is or who he’s with. I’m raising Zara. And if you think you can intimidate me into caring about your opinion, think again.”
Cecilia tilted her head, almost impressed—or at least pretending to be. “Strong words,” she said, voice softening just slightly. “I suppose that’s why he loves you. For now, Emily. For now.”
I let out a slow exhale, fighting the mix of anger and exhaustion bubbling inside me. “Just leave, Cecilia. Before you decide to critique the curtains or Zara’s toys too.”
Her smile widened, sharp and knowing. “Very well, Emily. I’ll leave you to your… reality. But remember what I said.”
With that, she stepped back toward the door, her coat brushing past her arm, hair catching the lamplight, eyes glinting just a fraction before the door clicked softly behind her.
And just like that, the warmth, the pretense, the fleeting feeling of normalcy… was gone.