Chapter 59 Whiplash
Hannah
I practically skipped down the hallway.
It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t dignified. But it was real, light, buoyant, like my feet barely remembered the floor existed. I turned the corner too fast, nearly colliding with a side table, and laughed under my breath as I steadied myself.
“Momo,” I called softly, already reaching.
Lisa stood near the console, Momo’s leash looped neatly over her wrist, his collar in her other hand. He spotted me immediately and erupted into excited yips, paws skidding against the polished floor as he wriggled toward me.
“There you are,” I breathed, scooping him up. “Did you miss me?”
His tail wagged so hard his whole body shook.
Lisa handed me the collar, her fingers brushing mine briefly. “Here you go.”
“Thank you,” I said, still smiling as I adjusted it around his neck.
It wasn’t until I looked up that I realized.
Lisa was staring at me.
Not her usual observant, measured look. This was sharper. Curious. Almost… searching.
My smile faltered.
“What?” I asked, blinking.
She tilted her head slightly. “Did you do it?”
My brain stalled.
“…Do what?”
She didn’t elaborate. Just watched me, patient and unyielding, as if she knew exactly when the penny would drop.
And then it did.
Oh.
My chest tightened. I hugged Momo closer, fingers sinking into his soft fur as the warmth drained out of my earlier giddiness.
“No,” I said quietly.
Lisa didn’t interrupt.
“I didn’t,” I repeated, firmer now. “I said it from the first day. I’ll keep saying it, even after we’re divorced.”
The word landed heavier than I expected.
Divorced.
It had always been there. Looming. I’d always known this wasn’t permanent, that it was an arrangement, a contract, a temporary truce masquerading as marriage.
Still.
Saying it out loud felt like pressing on a bruise I didn’t know had formed.
Lisa studied me for a long moment. Her gaze flicked briefly to Momo, then back to my face, as if weighing something silently.
Finally, she nodded once.
“Alright,” she said simply.
She bent down and patted Momo’s head. “Be good today.”
He yipped in response, tongue lolling.
“You too,” she added to me, softer now. “Have a good day, Hannah.”
And then she turned and walked away.
I stood there, watching her go, the hallway suddenly feeling longer and quieter than before.
My earlier lightness had dulled, replaced with a strange, hollow weight.
I adjusted Momo’s leash and headed back toward the front door.
Timothy was already waiting.
He stood near the car, phone in hand, jacket on, posture relaxed but alert. When he saw me, his expression shifted just slightly.
“You ready?” he asked.
I nodded and climbed in, settling Momo on my lap.
As the car pulled away, my thoughts drifted back to Lisa’s question. To my answer. To the way divorce had slipped from my mouth so easily, yet lodged itself in my chest like a splinter.
I’d always known this was temporary.
So why did it suddenly feel… strange?
“Hey.”
I looked up.
Timothy was watching me now, brows faintly drawn together. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I said automatically, smiling. Too quickly. Too tight.
He didn’t buy it.
One eyebrow lifted. “You sure?”
“I am,” I insisted. “Really.”
He held my gaze for a beat longer, then nodded slowly. “Alright.”
The rest of the drive passed in comfortable quiet, the city rolling by outside the window. Momo stuck his nose toward the glass, fascinated by everything.
When we arrived at the shelter, I spotted Sienna outside, wrestling with an overfilled trash bag.
I hopped out immediately. “Need help?”
She looked up, surprised, then scowled playfully when she saw Timothy behind me.
“Oh,” she said flatly, waving. “It’s you.”
Timothy nodded back, unbothered.
I laughed awkwardly. “Morning to you too.”
As I moved toward Sienna, Timothy reached out gently and caught my wrist.
“Hannah.”
I turned.
“We’re still having dinner tonight,” he said, voice firm but warm. “Yeah?”
I smiled, genuine this time. “Yes. I promise.”
His shoulders eased. “Good.”
For a moment, we just stood there, smiling at each other like idiots, the world seemingly holding its breath around us.
Then he cleared his throat and stepped back. “Have a good day.”
“You too,” I replied.
I watched the car pull away until it disappeared down the street.
Sienna sidled up beside me, arms crossed. “I thought y’all were…?”
“Don’t,” I sighed. “Just…don’t.”
She snorted. “Girl, I’m getting whiplash trying to keep up with you two. For real.”
I laughed weakly as we headed inside.
Maybe she was right.
Because somewhere between skipped steps, heavy words, and lingering smiles, something had shifted and I wasn’t sure whether to lean into it or brace for impact.