307: Guilt

307: Guilt
Ella’s Point of View

The days dragged on, each one a slow, heavy blur, like wading through molasses. The apartment, with its creaking floors and mismatched furniture, was a far cry from the Hayes mansion’s grandeur, but it was ours—mine, Lily’s, and Emerson’s. 

I filled the hours with routine: hospital shifts, grocery runs, bedtime stories, anything to keep my mind from wandering to Shawn. But he was there, in every quiet moment, his tired eyes, his warm laugh, the way he’d held me like I was his anchor. 

I’d thought love was a myth after Marcus’s betrayal, after Vanessa’s blond hair and whispered lies tore my world apart. But Shawn had rebuilt me, piece by piece, only for me to shatter it again by walking away. The guilt was a weight, a stone lodged in my chest, and no amount of routine could dislodge it.

Lily was my light, her giggles a fleeting reprieve from the ache. Shared custody with Marcus was a new rhythm—his car pulling up every few days, his smile cautious but genuine as he took Lily for ice cream or park visits, always bringing her back on time. 

Today, he’d dropped her off just before dinner, her curls bouncing as she hugged him goodbye, her small hand waving from the doorway. “Thanks, Marcus,” I said, my voice steady, my heart guarded. 

He nodded, his eyes lingering, but he didn’t push, didn’t bring up the family he’d once hoped to rebuild. The divorce papers were signed, a clean break, and his role in Lily’s life was a bridge I’d accepted for her sake.

After dinner, I poured a glass of red wine, its deep ruby catching the lamplight, and settled on the couch with Lily, her small body curled against me, her teddy bear tucked under her arm. The TV played her favorite cartoon, the bright colors and cheerful songs a stark contrast to the loneliness creeping in. 

Lily’s eyes grew heavy, her breaths slowing, and I carried her to bed, her curls soft against my cheek as I kissed her forehead. “Sleep tight, princess,” I whispered, tucking the blanket around her, the room quiet except for the hum of the city outside. 

Alone now, I sank back onto the couch, the wineglass cold in my hand, my thoughts drifting to Shawn. Was he in his office, fighting for his father’s company? Did he think of me, or had my rejection turned his love to hate? The questions were a tide, pulling me under, my heart aching for the life I’d left behind.

The doorbell’s sharp ring jolted me, the wine sloshing in my glass. I set it down, my pulse quickening as I crossed the small living room, the floor creaking under my bare feet. 

I opened the door, and there was Celeste Hayes, a bouquet of vibrant lilies in one hand, a box of chocolates tucked under her casted arm, her eyes warm but shadowed. “Hey, Ella,” she said, her voice soft, a hesitant smile on her lips. “I was in the neighborhood, thought I’d say hi. These are for you and Lily.”

I blinked, surprised, my heart tightening at the sight of her—Shawn’s cousin, Garrett’s daughter, Cliff’s granddaughter, the woman who’d set this pain in motion. But her face held no malice, only a quiet sincerity, and I stepped aside. “Come in,” I said, my voice cautious, gesturing to the couch. 

Lily stirred at the sound, her eyes lighting up at the chocolates, her small hands reaching eagerly. “Thank you, Celeste!” she chirped, hugging the box before scampering back to her room, her joy a fleeting spark in the dim apartment.

I closed her door softly, returning to find Celeste on the couch, the bouquet resting on the coffee table, its petals a burst of color against the plain wood. She looked at me, her eyes glistening, her casted arm heavy in her lap, and I sensed the weight she carried before she spoke. 

“Ella,” she said, her voice trembling, a tear slipping down her cheek, “I owe you an apology. When I talked to you at the hospital, when I told you to step away from Shawn… I thought I was helping him, giving him a chance to beat my dad and Grandpa Cliff. 

I saw how they were using you and Lily against him, and I thought if you left, he could focus, win the company back. But I never meant to break what you had. You, Shawn, Lily—you were a family, and I destroyed that. I’m so sorry.”

Her words hit like a gust of wind, stirring the pain I’d tried to bury. I saw Shawn’s face, his broken gaze as I walked away, Lily’s sobs echoing in the mansion’s halls. My throat tightened, my hands twisting in my lap, but I forced my voice to stay steady. 

“Celeste, it’s okay,” I said, my words soft but firm, though my heart wavered. “You did what you thought was right. I made the choice to leave, to protect Lily, to give Shawn a chance. It’s not your fault—it’s just… what had to happen.”

She shook her head, her tears falling faster, her voice breaking. “No, you don’t understand,” she said, her hands gesturing, the cast a heavy weight. “Shawn’s throwing himself into work, hitting Dad and Grandpa Cliff hard, and it’s working—they’re losing ground, the shareholders are turning. 

But he’s a wreck, Ella. You can see it in his eyes, the way he moves, like something’s dead inside him. I did that. I pushed you away, and I feel so guilty.”

Her words were a knife, twisting deeper, the image of Shawn broken and alone searing into me. I wanted to run to him, to hold him, to tell him I’d never stopped loving him. But I’d left to protect him, to keep Lily safe, and I couldn’t undo that now. 

My eyes burned, but I reached for her hand, my voice soft, steadying. “Celeste, stop,” I said, my thumb brushing her knuckles, a small gesture of forgiveness. “You didn’t destroy us. I chose this, for him, for Lily. Shawn’s strong—he’ll get through this, and so will I. We’ll find our way.”

She looked at me, her eyes searching, a sob catching in her throat. “You’re too kind,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “I don’t deserve it.” She stood, pulling me into a hug, her casted arm awkward but warm against my back. “I want you and Lily to be so happy, Ella,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “You deserve it, more than anyone.”

I hugged her back, my heart heavy but lighter, her words a balm to the wound I carried. As she pulled away, her eyes bright with tears, I smiled, a fragile hope stirring. “Thank you,” I said, my voice soft, my heart holding onto the wish that happiness was still possible, for me, for Lily, for the future we’d find.