THE EMPIRE BETWEEN US

Chapter 2: Ghosts of the Past

Olivia

“Do you ever stop running, Olivia?”

The voice cut through my thoughts like a knife, low and familiar, spoken with the kind of certainty that made my stomach twist. I spun around, my heart pounding, but the only thing that greeted me was is the quiet hum of the village square, its cobblestone streets dusted with snow and glowing under twinkling lights.

I shook my head, trying to ground myself. It was too early to be haunted by ghosts.

“Mommy! Look!” Emma’s delighted shout drew me back to the present. She was pointing at a vendor selling hand-painted ornaments, her little face aglow with excitement.

“Do you want to pick one?” I asked, forcing a smile as I knelt beside her.

Emma nodded eagerly, tugging me toward the stall. I let her chatter with the vendor, my eyes wandering across the square. The Christmas festival was in full swing, children laughing, couples holding hands, the scent of roasted chestnuts mingling with pine. It should feel magical and comforting. But instead, my skin prickled and I couldn't shake the sense that I was being watched.

And then I saw him.

Ethan stood near the hot cocoa stand, towering above the crowd with an easy confidence that drew attention without effort. His dark coat was dusted with snowflakes; his hands were shoved casually into his pockets. He was talking to someone, but his gaze locked on me as if he had been waiting.

I looked away too quickly, the rush of blood to my face betraying me.

“Do you like this one, Mommy?” Emma held up a delicate ornament painted with a snowy cabin.

“It’s perfect,” I said, though my voice felt far away.

A shadow fell over us, and I already knew who it was before I looked up.

“Morning,” Ethan said, his tone was warm and familiar, like we were picking up a conversation that never really ended.

“Morning,” I replied, my throat tightening.

Emma beamed up at him. “Hi! Mommy says I can pick an ornament!”

“Good choice,” Ethan said, crouching to her level. His smile was disarming, and the way Emma instantly warmed to him set something uneasy stirring in my chest. “How about I buy it for you? Consider it a welcome-back gift.”

Emma clapped her hands, delighted, while I sputtered, “That’s not necessary—”

“It’s Christmas,” he said, brushing off my protest as he handed the vendor a few bills. “Besides, I owe you at least that much, don’t I?”

The way he said it—soft, pointed—made my stomach twist again. I didn’t dare to meet his eyes, to see those years we've spent together play before us. I was not ready to face what his abrupt departure did to me all those years. Leaving me to pick the pieces.

I couldn't meet his eyes, so I focus on Emma, who was babbling her thanks as she clutched the ornament with so much excitement.

“Thank you, Mr. Ethan!”

“Just Ethan,” he said with a chuckle, straightening up.

“Come on, Emma,” I said quickly, taking her hand. “We should let Ethan enjoy the festival.” I stifled a smile.

His brow arched, but he didn't argue. “I’ll see you around, Olivia.”

It was not a question, and I hated how certain he sounded.

***

The cabin was alive with laughter that evening, the kind that only family could create. Emma was seated between my mother and Michael, eagerly recounting her day while my mother tried to sneak vegetables onto her plate.

“So,” Michael said, turning to me with a sly grin. “You and Ethan had quite the reunion today.”

I freezed, my fork hovering mid-air. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play coy,” he teased. “The whole Town knows you two were inseparable back in the day. Remember when Mom used to call him your bodyguard? ” it seemed, I would not be able to avoid the memories because Michael seemed to have other plans.

“Michael,” I warned, my voice low.

But he was having too much fun to stop. “I’m just saying, he was always hanging around, looking like a lost puppy. You broke his heart when he found out you got married to someone else, didn’t you?”

“I think that’s enough,” I said firmly, my cheeks burning. “He left me first and it seems everyone is so quick to blame me. I had a life too, you know; I wasn't going to wait around if I wasn't as important as I thought I was…”

"Maybe you were quick in choosing Ryan. I knew you didn't like him as much. You just wanted to please grandpa."

"I did. Besides it's all in the past."

Ethan, of course, chooses that moment to chime in. “Some things are hard to forget,” he said lightly, his gaze settling on me from across the table.

The words felt like a challenge, and the way he held my gaze made it impossible to breathe.

“Well, I’m sure Olivia has plenty she’d like to forget,” I said, forcing a smile as I looked away. The table fell into an awkward silence, but Michael, bless his oblivious heart, laughed it off and starts talking about the Christmas tree lighting tomorrow.

I excused myself soon after, needing air that didn’t feel so stifling.

***

Later that night, I’m curled up on the couch with a cup of tea, and the cabin was finally quiet. Emma was fast asleep upstairs, and the glow of the fireplace was the only light in the room.

My phone buzzed on the coffee table. I picked it up, expecting a text from my mom or Michael, but the number was unfamiliar.

I opened the message, and my stomach dropped.

It was a photo of Ryan, my ex-husband, sitting at a bar with a drink in hand. He looked dishevelled, his tie loose, his eyes bloodshot.

The caption reads: “He’s not done with you yet.”

I stared at the screen, my heart racing. Who would send this? And why? I was done with the life I was made to live with him. I didn't want to put myself and my child through that ever again. So why would someone send this to me even after It was clear to everyone that I and Ryan are done?

Panic welled up, but I shoved it down, telling myself it was nothing. Ryan didn't have the power to hurt me anymore.

Did he?

Before I could dwell on it, there was a knock at the door.

I set the phone down, my nerves already on edge. When I opened the door, the blast of cold air was the first thing that hit me. The second was the man standing on the porch.

Ryan.

He was smiling, that smug, self-assured smirk that used to charm me but now only made my skin crawl.

“Did you miss me?” he asked, his voice dripping with mock sincerity.

My heart pounded and all I could think was: I should’ve stayed in the car that night. I should’ve driven until there was no road left.