Storms That Follow
841 Words
Suzie crossed the room quickly and knelt beside Amelia. “Yeah, baby. We’re leaving in a minute,” she said softly, smoothing the child’s hair.
Amelia glanced past her, eyes settling on Richard with innocent curiosity. “Is he staying for cookies?”
Suzie’s stomach twisted. “No, sweetheart. He was just leaving.”
But Richard didn’t move toward the door. He crouched down slowly, keeping a careful distance. “Hi, Amelia,” he said gently. “It was nice meeting you.”
She blinked at him. “Do you work with Mommy?”
Suzie opened her mouth to steer the conversation away, but Richard didn’t answer right away. His voice, when it came, held something painfully careful. “Not exactly. But I hope I get to see you again.”
Amelia nodded like that was the most natural thing in the world, then wandered back down the hall to find her shoes.
Suzie stood, pulse unsteady. “You need to go.”
Richard rose as well, eyes still fixed on the spot where Amelia had just been. “I’m not announcing anything. Not to her. Not to anyone. Not yet.”
“Not ever,” Suzie muttered.
He met her gaze. “That’s not your choice alone anymore.”
She swallowed hard, anger and fear clashing in her chest. “Do not walk in here and think you can claim her with words you never said five years ago.”
He stepped back, but his voice stayed firm. “I didn’t get the chance to say them.”
The truth in that cut deeper than either wanted to admit.
He reached for the door, pausing only once. “I’ll give you time. But I won’t disappear again.”
Then he left, and the silence he abandoned felt louder than any argument.
And for the first time since he walked in, Suzie didn’t know whether to lock the door or leave it open.
The door clicked shut behind him, but the echo of his presence stayed like a pulse in the walls. Suzie stood still for a long moment, fingers curled against her palms, breathing through the weight in her chest.
Marjorie emerged from the back, coat in hand. She’d stayed late to lock up, pretending not to listen, but Suzie knew she’d heard everything. Her aunt didn’t speak at first. Instead, she walked to the window and peered out at the dark street where Richard’s car had been moments ago.
“He’s not letting this go,” Marjorie said quietly.
“I know.”
“You’re not ready.”
“I know that too.”
Marjorie turned, her expression softer than her voice. “But hiding doesn’t work when the truth learns how to knock.”
Suzie let out a shaky breath and forced her hands to steady. “He can’t just walk back into our lives like nothing happened.”
“He didn’t,” Marjorie said. “You felt it. And he did too.”
Suzie’s eyes burned, but no tears fell. She couldn’t afford them. “I don’t want her hurt.”
“Then don’t keep lying to her,” Marjorie replied gently.
Before Suzie could argue, Amelia reappeared with her bunny under one arm and her backpack dragging behind her. “Mommy, can I sleep in your bed tonight?”
Suzie knelt and kissed her forehead. “Yeah, baby. You can.”
They locked up and walked into the night, the air cool and damp. As Suzie buckled Amelia into the car seat, she glanced once across the street.
Because even when he was gone, Richard Hale felt too close to outrun.
And somewhere deep down, she wasn’t sure she still wanted to.
Back at the apartment, Amelia fell asleep quickly, curled against Suzie’s side with her rabbit tucked under her chin. The quiet should have been a relief, but Suzie lay awake, staring at the ceiling, her mind circling the same truth she’d spent years outrunning.
He knew.
She slipped out of bed carefully and padded into the kitchen. The city glowed outside the window, lights flickering like restless thoughts. She gripped the edge of the counter and let the silence wrap around her.
He would come back. She’d seen it in his eyes, not anger, not vengeance, but certainty. The kind of certainty Richard used to wear in boardrooms and billion-dollar decisions. Only now it was aimed at her life. Her daughter.
Their daughter.
She hadn't let herself think that word in years.
Her phone buzzed on the table. For a moment she considered ignoring it, but the screen lit up with a number she didn’t recognize, yet somehow already knew.
RICHARD: I’ll give you space tonight. But not forever.
She stared at the message, pulse unsteady. No demands. No threats. Just a promise she couldn’t pretend not to understand.
She typed nothing back.
Instead, she deleted the message but not before memorizing every word.
In the bedroom, Amelia murmured in her sleep.
And Suzie knew that tomorrow wouldn’t wait for her to be ready.
- Writer
