Chapter 16: Weaving Lies: Weaving Shadows
1300 Words
Snow threatened the city long before it finally began to fall.
By early evening, Toronto wore the heavy silence that came just before winter broke open completely. The clouds hung low over the skyline, dulling the glow of office towers and streetlights until the city looked washed in bruised shades of gray and amber. Sera sat motionless in her car outside Malcolm’s townhouse, her fingers curled tightly around the steering wheel as the heater rattled weakly against the cold.
She had been sitting there for nearly ten minutes.
The windshield fogged slowly from her breathing. Children’s bicycles lay abandoned across neighboring lawns. Somewhere down the street, a dog barked while a television laughed through an open basement window. The ordinary sounds of life scraped against her nerves after weeks spent chasing whispers beneath libraries and shadows beneath the city.
Normal.
This was what normal looked like.
And she no longer knew how to fit inside it.
Sera caught her reflection faintly in the rearview mirror and barely recognized herself. Her almond-brown skin looked dull with exhaustion, the freckles dusting her cheeks faded beneath sleepless shadows. Her tightly curled hair had been pulled into a loose puff that was already falling apart from nervous fingers. Even her eyes looked different now—too alert, too haunted.
Kwame had done that.
Or maybe grief had.
Her phone buzzed in the passenger seat.
Maya:
You okay? You’ve gone full ghost mode again.
Guilt twisted sharply through her chest.
Another message appeared before she could answer.
Maya:
Just don’t disappear completely, Sera. I mean it.
Sera stared at the text for a long moment before locking the screen without replying.
Again.
She was becoming someone who left people waiting in silence.
Finally, she climbed from the car and crossed the narrow driveway. Cold wind bit through her coat instantly, carrying the smell of snow and chimney smoke. Warm light glowed through the front windows of Malcolm’s townhouse. She could see shadows moving inside.
For one dangerous second, she almost turned around.
Instead, she knocked.
Her ex-husband, Malcolm opened the door quickly, like he’d already been watching for her. His expression flattened immediately. He is already irritated, his expression hardening further when he sees Sera distracted, exhausted appearance.
Malcolm immediately notices she has changed. Sera looks thinner. More restless. Her eyes seem distant, almost haunted. She wears dark clothes that still smell faintly of incense, old books, and rain from the hidden sanctuary. There are bruised shadows beneath her large espresso-colored eyes.
“Sera,” Malcolm states flatly.
The warmth spilling from the house hit her first. Cinnamon. Tomato sauce. Laundry detergent. Familiar things. Human things. Her chest tightened painfully.
“Hey,” she said softly.
Malcolm stepped aside stiffly to let her in. “Jordan’s finishing homework.”
Sera entered slowly, removing her boots near the door. The house looked almost exactly the same, but not quite. Family photos still lined the walls, except newer ones had replaced older ones. Vacations. Birthdays. School pictures.
Less and less of her existed here now.
The realization hollowed her out.
Jordan appeared suddenly from the living room, his face lighting up instantly.
“Sera!”
Before Malcolm could say anything, the boy ran toward her and wrapped both arms tightly around her waist.
The force of it nearly shattered her.
She hugged him immediately, breathing in the scent of shampoo and pencil shavings clinging to his hoodie. He had gotten taller again.
“You missed my game,” he mumbled against her coat.
The words landed gently.
Which somehow hurt worse.
“I know,” Sera whispered. “I’m sorry.”
Jordan pulled back just enough to look up at her. “Dad said you’ve been busy at work again.”
Malcolm moved toward the kitchen without looking at her. “Homework,” he reminded quietly.
Jordan sighed dramatically before disappearing back toward the dining room table.
The moment he was gone, the silence between them sharpened.
Malcolm folded his arms. “How long this time?”
Sera hesitated. “A week maybe. Two.”
His jaw tightened immediately. “Unbelievable.”
“It’s work, Malcolm.”
“That’s always the answer.”
Sera exhaled slowly, exhaustion settling deeper into her bones. “The library wants me to travel for acquisitions. Rare collections.”
“And you just had to say yes.”
His voice wasn’t loud, but disappointment soaked every word.
Sera rubbed her forehead. “This matters.”
Malcolm laughed once under his breath, humorless. “There it is.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means this is exactly why we fell apart.” He finally looked at her fully, frustration burning openly across his face. “You disappear into things, Sera. Work. Research. Grief. Whatever obsession gets hold of you at the moment.”
Her chest tightened violently.
“That’s not fair.”
“No?” Malcolm stepped closer. “Jordan waits for your calls. You cancel plans. You vanish emotionally for weeks at a time, and now you’re leaving again?”
“I’m trying to build something for myself.”
“You had a family.”
The words struck hard enough to make her physically flinch.
Malcolm saw it and softened only slightly, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “Look at you,” he said quietly. “You look exhausted.”
Because I’m chasing impossible things beneath the city with a half-god who smells like smoke and temptation.
Instead she said, “I’ve just been stressed.”
“You’ve been somewhere else for a long time.”
The loneliness inside her widened.
He didn’t know about magic. About the Loom. About the impossible possibility of hearing her mother’s voice again. He couldn’t understand the ache driving her forward because normal people accepted death eventually.
But Sera still remembered holding her mother’s cold hand in that hospital room. Still remembered how quickly breast cancer devoured her. How suddenly she was gone.
No goodbye.
No time.
Just absence.
And now there was a chance—a terrifying impossible chance—to change that ending.
How could she walk away from that?
“I need this trip,” she whispered.
Malcolm stared at her for a long moment before anger hardened his expression again. “You always need something more than us.”
Pain flashed hot across her face.
“That’s cruel.”
“No,” he replied. “Cruel is making Jordan think you’ll stay consistent this time.”
Her throat tightened.
From the dining room, Jordan’s small voice drifted carefully into the silence.
“Are you leaving again?”
Sera closed her eyes briefly.
When she opened them, Jordan stood halfway in the hallway clutching a pencil in his hand. His expression wasn’t angry.
Just worried.
That somehow made it worse.
She crossed the room quickly and knelt in front of him, smoothing a hand gently over his curls.
“I have to go away for work for a little while.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Jordan studied her face carefully with the strange emotional intelligence children sometimes had. “You’re sad again.”
The observation hollowed her out instantly.
“Am I?”
He nodded. “About your mom.”
Silence swallowed the room.
Even Malcolm looked away.
Sera forced a smile that nearly broke apart on her face. “I just miss her sometimes.”
Jordan wrapped his arms around her again without hesitation. “I miss you when you’re gone.”
The simplicity of it almost destroyed her resolve.
For one terrible moment, she questioned everything.
The Loom.
Kwame.
All of it.
Then her mother’s face flashed through her mind again, fading beneath fluorescent hospital lights.
Gone too soon.
No.
She couldn’t stop now.
Even if it cost her everything else.
- Writer
