ATHENA'S POVThe dimly lit bar was nearly empty, save for a few scattered patrons drowning their sorrows in liquor. I sat at the counter, a half-empty glass of whiskey in front of me, my fingers tracing the rim absentmindedly. My vision blurred as I fought back tears, but they refused to be contained. My life felt like it was spiraling out of control, and no amount of alcohol could numb the growing pain in my chest.I let out a shaky breath, gripping the edge of the bar counter. The doubts, the loneliness, the weight of it all bore down on me like an unbearable storm. I had thought marriage would bring me happiness, but instead, it had only shackled me to uncertainty. Franco's cold demeanor, his distant presence, the way he barely looked at me—it all stung deeper than I cared to admit.Just as I was about to take another sip of my drink, my phone vibrated on the counter. I glanced at the screen, my heart lurching at the sight of my mother's name."Mom?" I answered, my voice slightly s
The hospital room was quiet except for the rhythmic beeping of the monitor beside Ryan’s bed. The little boy was finally sleeping peacefully, his tiny fingers still loosely curled around Callum’s hand. The tension in my body slowly eased as I watched his chest rise and fall steadily. He was okay. The worst had passed.I exhaled softly and turned to Callum. He sat beside Ryan’s bed, unmoving, his gaze fixed on my little brother as if ensuring he wouldn’t disappear the moment he looked away.“You don’t have to stay,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.Callum finally looked at me, his blue eyes filled with something unreadable. “I’m not leaving him.”Something about the quiet conviction in his voice made my heart clench. He wasn’t saying it just to comfort Ryan. He meant it.I swallowed, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. “You should at least get some rest.”Callum shook his head. “I’m fine.”I sighed, running a hand through my hair. Exhaustion weighed heavily on my shoulders,
Days passed by, and life slowly returned to normal. I went back to my job, trying to focus on my tasks and push aside the lingering thoughts of Callum and that morning at the diner.As expected, Callum’s behavior changed the moment we stepped inside the company building. Gone was the gentle, almost tender man who stayed by Ryan’s side through the night. In his place was the cold, arrogant CEO everyone knew. He passed by my desk without so much as a glance, his jaw clenched, and his eyes focused straight ahead.I hated it. Hated how he could switch from being that caring man who watched over Ryan to this indifferent boss who treated me as if I were just another employee. I gritted my teeth, reminding myself that this was how it had to be. Callum had his reasons—reasons I couldn’t fully understand but knew were tied to the company, his reputation, and his father-in-law, the chairman, who would take everything from him at the slightest hint of weakness.But just because I knew why didn’t
Staring at the message on my phone, I felt my heart twist painfully. Callum’s words were like a punch to the gut—unexpected, sharp, and leaving me breathless. Despite everything, a part of me still loved him, but love shouldn’t feel like this—like drowning in a sea of confusion and hurt.I wiped my eyes, refusing to let more tears fall. I didn’t have the luxury of breaking down, not when Ryan needed me. My son was still in the hospital, fighting, and I couldn’t afford to fall apart now. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to get ready for work. One step at a time. That’s how I would get through the day.As I stepped outside, I almost jumped when I saw Daniel leaning against his car, waiting. His warm smile chased away a bit of the cold that had settled inside me.“Good morning,” he greeted, his voice gentle. “I thought I’d give you a ride to work—if yo
Callum’s eyes darkened, and for a moment, I thought he might actually say something real—something honest. Instead, he just clenched his jaw and looked away, hands shoved deep into his pockets. “That’s your choice,” he finally said, his tone clipped, almost robotic. I couldn’t help but scoff, shaking my head. “Right. My choice. Just like it was your choice to walk away when I needed you the most. Your choice to send that heartless message when Ryan was in the hospital. Your choice to keep pushing me away while I’m still standing here, trying to pick up the pieces.”His eyes flashed with something—regret, maybe? Anger? I couldn’t tell. But whatever it was, it faded as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the same cold mask he always wore these days.“You don’t understand, Athena,” he said, voice strained. “No, Callum, I think I understand perfectly,” I shot back. “You’re mad because I’m trying to move on. Because for once, I’m not just waiting around for you to decide whether you wan
Callum’s grip on my hand was firm yet hesitant, like he was afraid I’d pull away. But for the first time in a long time, I didn’t. We sat in silence, watching the steady rise and fall of Ryan’s chest as he drifted off to sleep. The beeping of the monitors was a steady, rhythmic reminder of just how fragile he was.I exhaled slowly, exhaustion pressing down on me like a heavy weight. My body ached, but my heart ached more.Callum’s thumb brushed against my palm absentmindedly. It sent a ripple of warmth up my arm, an old familiarity that both comforted and unsettled me.“Athena,” he murmured after a long pause.“I meant what I said earlier. I don’t know how to be what you need.”I turned to face him, searching his expression for deception, for walls, for the Callum who always pulled away before I could hold on. But all I saw was a man who looked just as lost as I felt.“Then learn,” I said softly. “Because I can’t keep doing this alone. And Ryan—” My voice broke. “Ryan needs you, wheth
Dr. Patel’s eyes softened, her voice gentle but firm. “We start treatment immediately. Acute lymphoblastic leukemia, or ALL, is aggressive, but it's also one of the most treatable forms of childhood leukemia, especially with early intervention. We have options. The sooner we begin, the better his chances.”My mind struggled to process the words, each one a weight that sank deeper into my chest. Ryan. Leukemia. It was too much to take in all at once. I felt like I was drowning in the wave of panic that threatened to engulf me.Callum squeezed my hand, his voice steady. “What does treatment look like?”Dr. Patel nodded, glancing down at the chart in her hands before answering. “The first step is chemotherapy. We’ll start with an intensive induction phase, which will last about a month. During that time, Ryan will need to be monitored very closely. After that, there will be consolidation and maintenance phases, which will continue for the next two years.”Two years. The word echoed in my
But in that moment, with Callum by my side and Ryan lying peacefully in front of us, I allowed myself to believe that we could face whatever came next. Together.The next morning, the whirlwind of medical appointments, phone calls, and endless forms began. It was almost like I was on autopilot—nodding along, signing papers, answering questions I didn’t fully understand. The pediatric oncologist arrived, a woman named Dr. Thompson, with a warm smile and a calm presence that somehow made the chaos feel less overwhelming. She explained in greater detail the specifics of Ryan’s chemotherapy regimen, the medications, the rounds of tests, and the side effects we’d need to prepare for. She outlined the schedule for the first round of treatment, which would begin the following week.I couldn’t quite bring myself to listen to all of it. I kept looking at Ryan, small and fragile in his hospital bed, his tiny fingers curled into a fist. His innocence seemed so out of place in the sterile, harsh
The next morning, I woke to the vibration of my phone against the nightstand. Not a message this time—a call. Unknown number.I hesitated.Then answered.“Hello?”A pause, and then: “You really told him no?”Callum.His voice was rough, low, and there was something brittle beneath it.“You talked to him,” I said.“Of course I did,” he said. “He didn’t mention the twenty million.”“I figured he wouldn’t.”Silence stretched.“He had no right,” I said, voice cracking just a little. “To do what he did. To offer that. To talk about Emilia like she—”“He’s desperate,” Callum cut in. “That’s what this is. A final swing. But it’s not about you or me. It’s about guilt. His, mine…”I closed my eyes. “And hers.”“I loved her, you know,” he said softly. “Just… not the way I should have.”“I know.”“I told her about you. Before we got married. She said she didn’t care. That she’d rather have part of me than none of me at all.”Tears pricked the back of my throat.“She wasn’t wrong,” I whispered. “
The sky outside the kitchen window was a dull, overcast gray—clouds sagging like they carried secrets too heavy to keep. I stood by the sink, phone in hand, staring at the message I’d read over and over again.“I need to speak with you. Today. In person. – Richard Rhodes.”The name alone sent a knot curling in my stomach. Richard Rhodes—father of the late Emilia Rhodes, ruthless tycoon of Rhodes Industries, and the man who made sure I lost my job the moment my relationship with Callum went public. He’d always been a shadow in the distance. Now he was calling me into the light.I didn’t tell Mom or Ryan about the message. My mother was folding laundry in the living room, humming an old tune under her breath. My brother Ryan was sprawled on the couch, eyes glued to his phone, earbuds in. Peaceful. Ordinary.I didn’t want to worry them. Not when things were already tight. I’d been unemployed for weeks. The severance package had been insulting, and my name had been quietly dragged through
We thought it was over.The trial. The sentence. The fire pit where we burned his letter. We thought that would be the end of Daniel's reach—that prison bars could hold obsession the way they hold people.We were wrong.Because Daniel didn’t want me back. Not really. He wanted to destroy the version of me that lived without him.He wanted to ruin what he couldn’t own.He started small again—he always did. A new Instagram profile that followed both me and Callum, no posts, no bio. Just a name I recognized from a story we once told together. A callback, like an inside joke only we would get.I blocked it. Thought that would be the end of it.Then Callum started getting emails.At first, they were harmless. Vague phrases like, “Do you really know who she is?” or “Ask her what she isn’t telling you.”Spam folder stuff. Cowardly.But then came the photos.Old ones of me and Daniel. Ones I never remembered being taken. Private ones. Intimate. A weaponized version of nostalgia designed to tw
It was a Tuesday when I realized Daniel hadn’t stopped—he had simply changed tactics.The gifts started small. A bouquet of roses on the hood of my car, no card. A song request on the local radio station—our old song, of course—dedicated to “the one who got away.” A flash drive in the mail containing nothing but footage of us from years ago. Silent videos. Muted laughter. Kisses preserved in pixels like relics from a war only one of us was still fighting.He wanted me to remember, but all he did was remind me why I left.The police were sympathetic, but careful. “Until he breaks the order, we can’t make a move,” they said. But Callum’s friend, Miles, was less restrained.“He’s escalating again,” Miles told me one night over coffee and code. “You’re his fixation. He doesn’t care if he gets caught—he just wants you to see him.”“And if I won’t?” I asked, already knowing.Miles leaned back, lips tight. “Then he’ll try to make you.”—It was the podcast that changed everything.I hadn’t p
The first time I found the photo, I thought it was a mistake.It was tucked into my coat pocket—an old picture of me and Daniel at his sister’s wedding. My dress was too tight, his tie was crooked, and we were laughing like the world didn’t know how to hurt us yet. I hadn’t seen that picture in years. I didn’t even remember it being taken.But Daniel did.He was making a point. This wasn’t about nostalgia.It was about control.I burned the photo in the sink that night. Watched the edges curl and blacken like the past finally giving up.Callum stood behind me, silent, his hand resting at the small of my back.“He’s crossing lines,” he said.“I know.”“We should call someone.”I turned. “What would we even say? ‘My ex is acting weird and persistent’?”Callum’s jaw clenched. “He’s not just being persistent. He’s stalking.”I exhaled shakily. “Then we gather proof. We do it smart. He wants a reaction. I won’t give him one.”But I felt it. That old, familiar fear, creeping in like a draft
Athena’s POVI should’ve known peace never lasts.It had been a year since Ryan whispered my name in that hospital bed. A year since Callum came back into my life and refused to leave. A year of healing, slow mornings by the water, shared laughter over burnt pancakes, and kisses that melted every last memory of heartbreak.We had a rhythm now. A life. Something we didn’t dare imagine before.But I should’ve known that the past has a habit of clawing its way back. Especially when it’s wearing a three-piece suit and a smile that never quite reaches his eyes.His name is Daniel Grant.And once upon a time, he was the man I almost married.—The first time I saw him again, it was like my lungs forgot how to breathe.I was in town, picking up fresh flowers for the little café table Callum and I had dragged home from a garage sale. It was a small thing, but it made breakfast feel like something sacred.The florist was tying twine around a bouquet of wildflowers when I heard his voice.“Athe
The day Ryan whispered my name was the same day the sun finally broke through a week of gray clouds. I stood at the hospital window, watching light spill over the parking lot like a quiet promise, while inside, my brother blinked slowly at me, his lips dry, cracked—but alive.“You came back,” I murmured, tears gathering fast.His throat worked, but he couldn’t say much else yet. Still, it was enough. That one word—my name—was everything. And when I held his hand this time, I could feel the strength slowly returning beneath the fragile skin.I sent a voice message to Callum. I didn’t trust myself to talk without sobbing. “He said my name,” I whispered. “Callum, he said my name.”He called me back immediately, and when I answered, I could hear it in his voice—he’d stopped whatever he was doing. “I’m on my way.”“No,” I said quickly, though my heart clenched at the thought. “You have work.”“Screw work. I told you, I’m in this. I’ll catch the next flight. Just… stay with him. I’ll be the
The storm between us quieted.He didn’t say anything else for a while, and neither did I. The only sounds were our breathing and the tick of the wall clock, each second reminding me that peace like this wasn’t promised—it was chosen, earned, fragile.Callum's fingers curled around mine slowly, deliberately. A silent act of truce.I leaned into his shoulder, resting my forehead against the curve of his neck. He smelled like sun-warmed cotton and faint traces of my lavender soap. I’d missed this. Not just the feel of him—but the safety of him. The softness that still existed beneath the sharp edges life had carved into both of us.“I didn’t mean to ruin this morning,” I murmured.He sighed. “I know.”We sat like that for minutes or maybe hours—it was hard to tell. The past still hummed in the corners of the room, but something new was blooming too. Fragile, but real.Eventually, he spoke again. “What if this doesn’t work out?”I pulled back slightly. “Us?”“No,” he said, shaking his hea
He stepped closer, not touching me, not demanding anything—just close enough that I could feel the heat of him in the chilled wind.“You’ll find her,” he said softly. “I know you will.”His voice was full of something reverent. Like belief. Like hope. Like he saw a version of me I hadn’t fully stepped into yet but he already loved anyway.We stood there like that for a while, the waves crashing far below, the clouds slowly drifting across a sky painted with late afternoon gold. And then I did something I hadn’t planned.I reached for his hand.It felt like stepping off a ledge—but instead of falling, I found solid ground.His fingers threaded with mine instinctively. Familiar. Easy. And when I looked up at him, something shifted. Deep and quiet and real.“Come back with me,” I said.His brows lifted slightly, surprise flickering behind his eyes.“Just for tea,” I added quickly. “Don’t make it weird.”He grinned, and for a moment, we weren’t two broken people trying to figure out how t