The cost of coming home
1033 Words
The next morning, Aria stood in the kitchen, staring at the For Sale sign she’d taken down the night before. It leaned against the wall like a loaded gun, silent but heavy with implication.
She hadn’t told Luca yet.
Not about the lien. Not about the buyer backing out.
Not about how the town was trying to punish her for loving him again.
The phone rang.
She answered automatically. “Hello?”
“It’s Elliot,” said the lawyer. “The bank gave us a seven-day extension. After that, they’ll foreclose. Unless you can find a new buyer.”
Aria exhaled slowly. “I understand.”
He hesitated. “I know this is hard. Your mother loved that house.”
“I know.”
“You still have options. But… you might want to consider cutting ties before this gets worse.”
She ended the call without answering.
Cutting ties was what she had done once before.
And it had nearly destroyed her.
Luca showed up late that afternoon. He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept.
He handed her a coffee. “You look like you didn’t either.”
She tried to smile, but it wavered.
He watched her closely. “What happened?”
She sat down at the porch table and told him everything—the lien, the buyer pulling out, the rumors swirling around town like smoke from a slow-burning fire.
His expression didn’t change, but his jaw clenched.
“They’re blaming me,” he said.
“No,” she said. “They’re blaming me for choosing you.”
He leaned against the railing, staring out at the road.
“I should go,” he muttered.
Aria stood. “Don’t you dare.”
He looked at her, startled.
“I’m tired of pretending this is all your fault,” she said, her voice shaking with the weight of old anger. “You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t force me to come back. You didn’t make me fall in love with you again.”
His eyes flickered. “Aria…”
“No,” she went on, stepping closer. “This town wants to keep us frozen in time. They want me to believe you’re still that reckless boy who broke my heart. But I know better now.”
He swallowed, throat tight. “I’m still that boy in some ways.”
“Maybe. But you stayed. You worked. You helped my mother. You helped me.”
She reached out, took his hand.
“I’m not letting go. Not again.”
He stared at her like she was something sacred.
“You’re not afraid anymore?” he asked.
“I’m terrified,” she admitted. “But I’m still here.”
That night, she couldn’t sleep. So she dug through her mother’s filing cabinet, looking for anything—anything—that could buy her more time.
And she found it.
A letter from a preservation group. Dated two years ago. Offering to evaluate the house for historical significance.
Aria’s heart leapt.
If the house was considered historically valuable, the town couldn't touch it without jumping through months of red tape.
She grabbed her phone.
The next morning, she met with a woman named Valerie from the Silverpine Historical Society.
They walked through the house, Valerie’s eyes lighting up with every creaking floorboard and antique fixture.
“This home is over a hundred years old,” Valerie said. “Original crown molding, clawfoot tub, stained-glass windows in the upstairs hallway. It’s a gem.”
“Can we stop the foreclosure?” Aria asked.
“Not directly,” Valerie said. “But we can file a temporary preservation hold. It buys you sixty days.”
Aria exhaled, heart pounding. “That’s all I need.”
She called Luca.
“I found a way to stall the bank,” she said.
There was a pause.
“You’re staying,” he said.
“I’m fighting,” she replied.
He chuckled softly. “That’s the Aria I remember.”
She smiled. “No. It’s the one I became.”
Three days passed in a blur of paperwork, phone calls, and cautious hope. Aria worked with Valerie, filled out every form, and kept Luca close—his steady presence a balm to her doubts.
One evening, as they walked down Main Street, hand in hand, a woman stepped out of the bakery.
Aria recognized her instantly.
Tamara Caldwell. Her old high school classmate. Head cheerleader. Town princess.
“Aria Blake,” Tamara said, all fake warmth. “Didn’t expect to see you back.”
“I’m just here for a little while,” Aria replied coolly.
“Sure you are.” Tamara’s eyes flicked to Luca. “Still chasing ghosts, huh?”
Aria’s spine straightened. “No. Just stopped running from them.”
Tamara’s smile faltered. “Well, just be careful. Some ghosts don’t stay buried.”
Luca’s hand tensed in hers, but Aria squeezed it.
“Thanks for the warning,” she said. “But I’m not scared of shadows anymore.”
Back at the house, Luca sat on the edge of the dock, staring out at the lake.
Aria joined him, resting her head on his shoulder.
“Why do they hate us so much?” he asked.
“Because we remind them of what they buried,” she said. “You’re their guilt. I’m their disappointment.”
He was quiet for a long time.
“You ever think we’re just pretending? That this thing between us… is just nostalgia?”
She pulled back to look at him. “No. I thought that once. But not anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Because nostalgia fades,” she said. “But you… you stayed. And I came back. That has to mean something.”
He reached up, touched her cheek.
“I love you, Aria.”
She blinked.
“I never said it before,” he went on. “Not when I should have. Not when you were waiting. But I knew it then. I just didn’t know what to do with it.”
Her throat tightened. “I love you too.”
And this time, there was no hesitation in the kiss.
Just truth.
Just fire.
- Writer
