Chapter 1

Sarah

"Look at you, all sophisticated and worldly," Mom chuckled, her voice raspy but warm. She came out to greet me before I even got out of the car, leaning heavily on her cane, but smiling as if she had just won the lottery.

I couldn't help but grin back, despite the ache inside of me. Pulling up to the house felt like stepping into a time warp. The old, familiar sights hit me harder than I expected. I hadn't been back home in years, choosing instead to fly Mom out from the West Coast to New York for holidays and special occasions. But it had still been a couple years since I'd seen her. I got out of the car, the gravel crunching under my feet, a sound that triggered a flood of nostalgia.

"Yeah, well, the city hasn't chewed me up just yet."

She laughed and ushered me inside, the smell of brewing coffee and something sweet baking in the oven wrapping around me.

Home. This was home , with all its complicated emotions.

We settled in the kitchen, the heart of the house, where countless family dramas and laughter had unfolded, sometimes in the same night. I could still smell the sour cream from the time dad jokingly criticized mom's cooking, which, to be fair, had not been up to her usual standard. She'd teasingly raised a spoonful of the condiment, trying to diffuse the tension by threatening to fling it at him. At the ripe old age of ten, the idea of a food fight well outweighed the discomfort of their simmering argument, and I'd egged her on... only for her to turn the spoon toward me and throw it right onto my face, sending all of us into hysterics.

Mom poured us some coffee, trembling slightly, a reminder of her recent surgery. I rose to help, but she insisted that she was "not a frail old woman and could do it her own damn self."

"You look tired, Sarah. New York been treating you okay?" she asked, her gaze sharp and probing.

"New York is... New York. Fast, unforgiving. But I'm holding my own," I replied, avoiding her eyes.

She took a step toward the table, and her leg gave out slightly. She'd had hip surgery a couple months ago, and it was clear her recovery was progressing slower than anticipated.

"Why didn't you tell me your hip isn't healing as well as you made it seem? I would have come out here sooner," I said, aiming for a concerned approach over a scolding one.

Mom waved her hand dismissively, her pride shining through despite her discomfort. "Oh, honey, there was no need to worry you. I've been managing just fine on my own."

"But I could have helped," I replied, a twinge of guilt in my tone. "I should have been here to support you."

"You've got enough on your plate," Mom insisted, trying to alleviate my guilt. "I wouldn't want to add to your burdens. Besides, I've got the help of the neighbors if I need it. I'm getting there, just a bit slower than expected, is all."

We both fell silent, the weight of what we weren't saying settling between us. I knew she was waiting for me to bring it up, but I hesitated, unsure of how to start.

Mom finally took a deep breath and broke the silence, her eyes steady on mine. "We can't just ignore the elephant in the room forever. So, Shane turned out to be a big, lying cheater, hm?" she said with no preamble, no softening the blow.

The memory of that day hit me hard. I could still see the scene vividly: I had come home early, excited to surprise Shane, only to find the unmistakable sounds of infidelity coming from our bedroom. My heart pounded in my chest as I pushed open the door to see them together, tangled in the sheets. Shocked, his face twisted in shame and defensiveness, as if somehow this was something I had driven him to. The audacity of his excuse made my blood boil all over again. How dare he try to pin his unfaithfulness on me, on my dedication to my career? It was easier to be angry than to acknowledge the hurt. That wound, raw and fresh, reminded me how deeply I had loved and trusted him, only to be blindsided by his deception.

"Yeah, caught him red-handed. Can you believe it? The cliche story of a wife coming home early to find her husband in their marital bed with another woman." The words tasted bitter, a mix of anger, betrayal, and heartache. "After I found them, I immediately stormed out of the house, and when I came back that night to pack some things, he had the nerve to tell me I'm too involved with my work and he wasn't getting what he needed from me. As if it's my fault he couldn't keep his promises and his dick in his pants."

"That's nonsense, Sarah. He's just making excuses for his own asshole behavior. You working hard had nothing to do with his decision to stray."

"I know, but it still hurts," I sighed.

"Sometimes people show their true colors when they're faced with challenges. It's not a reflection of you, but of him. Always thought he wasn't good enough for you, anyway. You deserve better than him."

My mom's words, though blunt, were a reminder of why I had come back home. This was where I was safe. Being back in Raven's Peak away from the chaos of my life in New York and the shadow of Shane, was the balm I needed.

"God, it feels so good to finally say this out loud," I admitted, feeling a surprising rush of relief. "I haven't been able to be this candid about it with anyone yet. It's like I've been holding my breath, carrying around all this anger and pain without really letting it out."

The conversation rolled on, veering between rage, sarcasm, and the kind of honesty that only comes out after a few cups of coffee and a lifetime of shared history. We laughed, too, a little. It felt good, cathartic.

We shared a moment of silence before Mom's eyes twinkled with humor. "Remember how Shane would never close a cupboard door? He'd leave every single one open after looking for something."

I couldn't help but laugh. "It was like living with a poltergeist. I'd walk into the kitchen, and it looked like the cabinets exploded."

Mom chuckled, shaking her head. "And he'd always be so puzzled when you mentioned it. Like he couldn't fathom why it was a big deal."

The memory of Shane's quirky habit was a welcome relief.

Mom was feeling good, so we decided to walk around the neighborhood, a decision that seemed simple but felt like a monumental task. She assured me the doctor told her to keep moving. Each step was a confrontation with the past. We passed the high school, the local diner where I used to hang out with friends, places charged with memories both sweet and sour.

"I still have your trophy from the Fourth of July parade," Mom said, a smile tugging at her lips.

"Oh, yeah! That year when the float I helped decorate won first place," I said, a wave of wistfulness washing over me.

"You were so proud, standing right over there with your trophy, covered in glitter and a beaming smile."

We laughed, the sound echoing in the empty street. It was good, being here with her, walking these familiar streets. For a moment, I could almost forget the mess waiting for me back in New York.

But reality has a way of creeping back in. My phone buzzed relentlessly in my pocket, a constant reminder of the life I left behind, of decisions waiting to be made. I finally pulled it out, glancing at the screen. Shane. Followed by texts from Lucas, my best friend from work. Shane was probably calling to try and talk things out, to convince me to come back. Lucas, on the other hand, was likely calling to check in on me, offering his usual blend of sarcasm and genuine concern. For now, both could wait. I chose instead to be fully present, here with my mom.

That evening after dinner, I found myself on the old swing in the backyard, the one dad built for me when I was seven. The stars were out, something that had been a rare sight in the light-polluted skies of New York. The air was cool, a gentle breeze whispering through the trees. I closed my eyes, letting the swing rock gently back and forth.

Mom joined me outside, pausing by the garden, her hand gently brushing over the thriving plants. "The garden's looking good this year," she remarked, pride evident in her voice.

"Yeah, it is. You've done a great job with it," I said, opening my eyes to look at her. "It's nice to see it so vibrant."

Mom nodded, her gaze distant. "Your dad would be happy to see it like this. He loved working out here, making sure everything was just right."

I felt a pang of nostalgia. "He did. I miss those days."

She came over and sat on the swing next to me, her presence a comforting anchor. "Life's a bitch, ain't it?" she said, her voice a mix of bitterness and resilience.

"Yeah, it is. But we're tougher for it, right?" I replied, a half-smile playing on my lips.

"We have to be. No other choice."

We sat there in silence for a moment, under the stars, letting the memories wash over us.

"I miss dad's barbecues. No one could make ribs like he could. Remember how he used to say it was his secret recipe, but he'd tell anyone who asked exactly how he made them?"

"Oh, I remember, He loved sharing that ‘secret' recipe. It wasn't a secret as long as it brought people joy. He was always about making people happy, wasn't he?"

"He really was. I know it's been a long time since he passed, but sometimes I feel like he's still here."

"It hits me like that too, sweetheart, especially on evenings like this. He'd probably be out here with us, talking about how the garden's coming along or pointing out a new bird at the feeder."

"Yeah, and joking about how the birds ate better than he did. Dad always had a way of making everything feel lighter. Even when things were tough."

"He adored you, Sarah. Wanted to make every day a little easier for you. He may not be here with us, but I see so much of him in you. The way you care for others, your spirit. It's like he's still here, in a way."

"I hope I can be half the person he was. If I can bring even a fraction of the joy he brought into our lives to others, I'll have done something right."

"You already have. He'd be so proud of you, of everything you've accomplished and the kindness you show. You're just like he was in that way."

The chill of the night drove us back inside. There was a comfort in this, a simplicity I didn't realize I'd been missing.

Lying in bed that night, the house quiet around me, I couldn't help but feel a sense of peace I hadn't felt in a long time. The road ahead was uncertain, filled with difficult decisions and conversations on the forefront. But tonight, I was home, and that was enough.

***

The first light of the morning crept in, nudging me awake. I lay there for a moment, the unfamiliar peace of the previous night still wrapped around me like a weighted blanket. But as consciousness took hold, the reality of my situation pressed in. The peaceful bubble burst, replaced by a gnawing anxiety about the conversation that needed to happen.

After leaving so abruptly, nothing was resolved between Shane and me. At least I didn't have to worry about work after not taking a day off in years, diligently saving my vacation time for something exciting. Not exactly what I had planned, but the substantial reserve of time off allowed me to leave work without worry. My team was completely capable of managing business while I was away. Still, there was a strange undercurrent of resolve. Today would be a day of decisions.

After a quick shower, I found Mom in the kitchen, armed with a spatula and an intent that breakfast would not wait for the world to wake up.

"Morning," I grumbled, rubbing my uncaffeinated eyes.

"Morning, sunshine. Eggs?"

"You sure you've got this, Mom?"

"What did I tell you about making me feel old and fragile?"

The clatter of pans and sizzle of eggs filled the comfortable silence. Breakfast was a simple affair, but everything tasted better somehow. Maybe it was the lack of hurry, the absence of city noise, or just Mom's cooking.

"It's so peaceful here without the constant buzz of the city. I had almost forgotten what it was like."

"There's nothing quite like it. It lets your soul catch up with you, you know?"

"I can actually hear my own thoughts without the constant noise drowning them out. It's refreshing."

"Well, I'm glad you're finding some peace here, honey."

Coffee in hand, I ventured outside, the morning air crisp and slightly biting. The town was slowly waking up, sounds of life starting to ripple through the streets. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what needed to be done.

I pulled out my phone, hesitated, and then dialed. The line clicked, and then his voice, cautious but unmistakably hopeful, "Sarah?"

"Hello, Shane."

"Sarah, I… I'm so sorry," he said in a rush, as if he'd been holding the words in since I left. "I was lonely. It was a stupid mistake."

"A mistake ? A mistake is forgetting to pay a bill on time, not sleeping with someone else. How long has this been going on?"

His pause and lack of response was all I needed, my anger rising.

"You chose to betray me, to step outside our life together. You blame your actions on my career, as if your betrayal was somehow my responsibility!"

"Please, it wasn't like that. I was just feeling so alone, and she was there—"

He tried to interject with apologies, but I stopped him not wanting to hear anymore.

"No. This is the reality you created with your choices. I'm done. I'm moving forward, on my own."

"Sarah, I—"

I cut him off. "Don't you dare try to justify it. You don't get to make excuses for breaking my heart," I continued, my voice shaking. "Every promise you made, every moment we shared— it all feels like a lie now. I gave you everything, and you threw it away for what? A fleeting moment of weakness?"

"Sarah, I know I messed up. I hate myself for it. I wish I could take it back, but I can't. Please, just give me a chance to make it right."

"Make it right? How? How do you undo something like this?"

"I'll do anything. I'll go to therapy, we can go to therapy."

"You don't get to explain this away. Not anymore. I deserve better. I'll let you know when I figure out how I'll get my things from the house. Goodbye, Shane."

The call ended with a click, a definitive full stop to that chapter of my life. I stared at the phone for a moment longer, then pocketed it. The weight of finality settled over me, suffocating and liberating all at once. The severing of my marriage to Shane wasn't just about ending a relationship; it was about closing the door on a life I had meticulously built, one that now felt like it was crumbling at my feet.

I sat down on the swing deep in thought. I wasn't just losing Shane; I was losing the future I had envisioned with him. The shared dreams, the plans for a family, the comfort of his presence—all of it vanished with that final click. The sting of betrayal still lingered, but beneath it was an aching void where my sense of security used to be.

My thoughts drifted to our mutual friends. Would they pick sides? Would they believe his excuses or see through them to the truth of his infidelity? Did they already see what was happening? I feared the judgment, the whispers behind my back, the loss of the social circle we had cultivated together.

It wasn't just Shane's infidelity; it was the shattering of my support system. The friends we made together, the routines we established, the places we frequented—all of it now felt tainted. I felt a surge of grief for the life that was slipping away, the one where Shane and I were partners. The realization that I would have to rebuild my life from scratch, to forge new connections and find new routines, was overwhelming. As I sat there, the enormity of what I was losing hit me. I wasn't just losing a husband; I was losing a best friend, a community, a way of life. The fear of facing the future alone.

Though, I still had Lucas. He had always been my friend, my confidant. Unlike the others, Lucas had never been fond of Shane. He had seen through Shane's charm and had often hinted at his reservations, though he never pressed the issue too hard out of respect for my choices. Lucas and I had a bond that went beyond the usual work friendship; we were each other's lifelines in the chaotic world of our careers. When the deadlines loomed and the pressure mounted, Lucas was the one who could calm the storm with a well-timed joke or a knowing look.

We shared countless late nights in the office, burning the midnight oil, swapping stories and dreams over takeout food and lukewarm coffee. I knew I could count on him now more than ever. He would stand by me, help me pick up the pieces, and encourage me to find my footing again.

I sent Lucas a brief text:

Me: Hey, I'm okay. Shane's officially an asshole. Will reach out later when I can. Love you!

Lucas: I'm so sorry, babe! Take your time. I'm here when you're ready. Love you back!

I knew he'd understand, and just knowing he was there made the weight on my shoulders feel a little lighter.

I took a deep breath, the cool air filling my lungs, and stood up. As I walked back inside, I felt a mix of determination and trepidation. I might be losing a part of my life, but I was also gaining the freedom to redefine it, to discover who I was beyond the confines of my marriage.

Back inside, Mom was cleaning up, her movements slow but determined. She didn't ask, but her eyes did—a gentle, unobtrusive probe.

"It's done," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Mom's eyes softened, and she reached out to touch my hand. "You okay?"

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of her question. "Not exactly. But I know it's the right thing to do. I need to move forward, to rebuild my life without him."

"Sometimes doing the right thing doesn't feel good at the moment. It takes time to see the light on the other side of the darkness. But I'm proud of you, sweetheart. You're strong, and you'll get through this."

She pulled me into a hug, her embrace as comforting as it had been when I was a child. "You have a whole new chapter ahead of you, and I'll be here, every step of the way."

As I held onto her, I felt a sense of relief wash over me.

"What now?" she asked.

Now...

The question loomed large.

"I think... I think I need some time. Here."

"Here?" Surprise flickered across her face, quickly replaced by a dawning understanding. "As in, here in this house? With me?" she said with a hopeful smile.

"Yeah. Just for a bit. To figure things out. I could probably stay with my friend Lucas in the city, but... it's too hectic. Too many reminders of everything that went wrong. Here, it's... different. Calmer. I can clear my head and decide what I really want. And it will be good to spend time with you."

The smile that spread across her face then was like sunrise—bright, warm, illuminating. "Well then, let's make the most of it. You know, Harper works as a personal trainer at the gym in town. It's been a while since you two have seen each other."

My heart gave a little jolt at the mention of Harper. It had been years since our last encounter, since the friendship that had once been the bedrock of my formative years had fractured. I hadn't allowed myself to dwell on those memories, on the reasons we had lost touch. What would it be like to face her after all this time?