What We Once Were

Chapter 2

Laurel sat behind the wheel, her fingers tapping absently on the steering wheel of her silver Audi, eyes fixed on the school gates ahead. Renée should’ve come running out by now, all spark and chatter, her hair flying behind her like a kite tail. But instead, the call had come through: “Mrs. Stoll, we need to discuss some behavior concerns with Renée. Today.”

She hadn’t even had the time to process the “Mrs.” before the stress gripped her shoulders again. It didn’t matter how long it had been, people still assumed she carried his last name like a badge, not a ghost. And she had actually tried to change it but she couldn't. At least not yet. She secretly liked it though.

The back door opened, and Renée slid into the seat with all the defiance an eight-year-old could muster. She didn’t buckle her seatbelt. She didn’t say hi either.

Laurel glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “Seatbelt.”

Renée crossed her arms.

Laurel turned, her voice lower now. “Renée, seatbelt.”

The girl sighed heavily, clicked the belt into place with exaggerated drama, then flopped back in her seat. Hazel eyes, a stark resemblance to Ryan’s eyes, glared at the window.

“I got a call from your school today,” Laurel started carefully, putting the car into drive.

Renée didn’t respond.

“They want to see me. And your dad. About what happened.”

Still silence.

It wasn’t the first call they’d gotten. Over the past few months, Renée’s behavior had slowly slipped from lively to disruptive, her mischief escalating from harmless pranks to outright disobedience. Last week, she’d locked herself in the music room for an hour and claimed she was “composing.” Before that, she’d poured red paint over a boy’s project because “he said her parents didn’t live together.”

She was acting out, and Laurel knew exactly why.

“I’m not mad,” Laurel continued gently. “But I need to understand what’s going on, sweetheart.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Renée—”

“He said I was weird! That only babies cry about birthdays, and I said I could cry if I want! So I threw glitter in his face.”

Laurel blinked. “Glitter?”

“It was in my backpack. From art class.” A pause. “It was only a little.”

Laurel fought the urge to laugh. “Did you apologize to him?”

“No. He called me weird first.”

Laurel exhaled. “That’s not how we handle things. We don’t retaliate.”

“Then how do I make them stop talking about our family?”

That stopped her.

She parked on the curb in front of their brownstone and turned around fully. Renée looked smaller now, her sass melting into something quieter, rawer. Her lips trembled, on the verge of breaking out into tears.

“I hate going to different houses. I hate when people say things about it.” Her voice cracked. “I just want us to be a family again.”

Laurel reached back, hand out. Renée took it, squeezed.

“I know, baby.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “We’re still a family. Just… in a different way right now. But your dad and I love you. Always.”

“But why can’t we live together?”

Because sometimes love isn’t enough. Because grown-up choices sometimes break little hearts.

Laurel didn’t say any of that. She just squeezed her daughter’s hand tighter.

-----

The next morning brought gray skies and a heavier heart. Laurel arrived early at the school, a latte she held absent that she hadn’t touched, and a notebook of Renée’s drawings tucked under her arm. She wasn’t sure why she brought it, maybe as proof that Renée wasn’t just trouble, she was creative, sensitive, brilliant. Misunderstood.

Ryan arrived ten minutes late, most likely caught up at work. He strolled through the gates in a sleek navy coat, expensive watch catching the light, hair a little messy but effortlessly handsome. He looked like a man who walked into boardrooms and won arguments before the coffee got cold.

He also looked exhausted.

They exchanged a curt nod. That was all.

Inside the principal’s office, the air felt tight with politeness and unspoken things. Principal Henderson, a short woman with kind eyes and a tone that suggested she’d long stopped being surprised by anything, gestured to the chairs.

“Thank you both for coming,” she said.

Ryan sat next to Laurel but kept a respectable gap. He cleared his throat. “We were told there was an incident yesterday.”

“Yes,” Henderson said gently. “Renée has been showing increasing signs of emotional distress in class. She’s incredibly bright, always top of her class in reading and vocabulary but her social behavior is concerning.”

“She’s just expressive,” Laurel offered.

“She’s expressive, yes. But also disruptive. Yesterday she threw glitter at a classmate and called him, quote, ‘a roach-brained toad boy.’”

Ryan raised an eyebrow.

“She also told a substitute teacher that she was the principal and refused to follow the day’s math plan.”

“Laurel,” Ryan said, voice calm but low, “what’s going on at your place?”

Laurel stiffened. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, this kind of behavior—it’s new.”

“Don’t pin this on me, Ryan. She was fine the week after your birthday dinner when you brought that woman—”

“Okay,” Principal Henderson cut in swiftly. “I can see there are… some tensions.”

Laurel bit the inside of her cheek. She didn’t want to fight. Not here. Not in front of Renée’s school.

“We’re concerned,” Henderson continued. “Not just about Renée’s behavior but her emotional health. She speaks frequently about wanting her family to be together again. It’s clear she’s internalizing the separation in ways she can’t fully articulate.”

Ryan’s jaw clenched. “What do you suggest?”

“We’d like to recommend family counseling. Even just once a week. Something to help Renée process her feelings with both of you present.”

Laurel stared at her lap. “You think that will help?”

“I think,” the principal said gently, “she just needs to feel safe. Grounded. Not like she has to act out to be heard.”

They walked out in silence.

Rain was falling now, soft and misty, making the city smell like pavement and memories. Laurel didn’t open her umbrella. Neither did Ryan.

“I’ll find a therapist,” she said finally, brushing a wet strand of hair behind her ear.

Ryan nodded. “We can split the cost.”

Laurel almost smiled. “Since when are you cheap?”

He gave a half shrug. “Since co-parenting made me broke.”

Their eyes met, and for a second, something flickered—something old, familiar. But then it was gone.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” she said. “About what I said in there.”

He looked at her, really looked. “I get it. We’re both… trying. Failing sometimes.”

Laurel sighed. “She needs us, Ryan. More than ever. I just don’t know how to fix it.”

He glanced up at the sky, hands in his coat pockets. “Maybe we don’t fix it. Maybe we just show up and keep trying.”

A beat passed.

“Counseling,” he said. “I’ll go. For Renée.”

Laurel nodded. “Me too.”

Then she did something unexpected. She touched his arm, briefly, like the old Laurel might’ve. “Thank you.”

His expression softened. “You’d do the same for me.”

They parted ways again in the drizzle, strangers with a shared history, hearts tethered by a little girl who just wanted her parents to love each other again.

And maybe, just maybe, they still did.