Three Years Later
662 Words
She assembled a new life with her daughter. But some ghosts don’t stay concealed.
The morning sun spilled through the curtains, smudging golden streaks across the wooden floor. In the cozy little kitchen, Emilia cracked eggs into a skillet, whizzing softly to herself. Her hair was tied in a loose braid, her face free of makeup, and her soul… mostly quiet.
“Mommy!” a little voice called from the hallway.
Emilia veered around, her heart tugging with the familiar joy that always came with hearing it.
“Morning, sweetheart,” she said, emptying her arms.
Lila ran to her in pink pajamas, curls bouncing, arms wrapping tightly around Emilia’s legs. “I dreamed about flying last night!”
Emilia spooned her up and kissed her soft cheek. “Were you a superhero again?”
Lila nodded proudly. “I saved you.”
“You always do,” Emilia whispered.
Three years had passed since she left the city, trading glass towers for mountain air. Their little cottage sat on the edge of a quiet town, encircled by trees that turned fiery red in autumn and blanketed in white come winter. It wasn’t much, but it was safe. Relaxed. The kind of place where people recalled your name—and didn’t care who you turned out to be.
She worked at a local bookstore and instructed art classes on weekends. Nothing charming. Nothing that would make headlines. Nonetheless, it gave her time with Lila. And time with herself.
Still… some nights, when the house went still and the wind howled outside, remembrances crept in.
His voice.
His touch.
His rejection.
Even now, she occasionally caught herself looking at Lila’s eyes—so much like his—and wondering if he ever thought of her. Wondering if he would recognize the curve of that smile or the stubborn tilt of her chin.
But he hadn’t looked for them.
And she hadn’t reached out.
Not once.
The past was a locked room she had no intention of reopening.
But fate, Emilia knew, didn’t care about locks.
“Eat up,” she said, setting scrambled eggs on Lila’s plate. “You’ve got story time today.”
Lila cheered and grabbed her fork.
Emilia tilted against the counter, coffee in hand, watching her daughter with quiet pride. No matter how vastly anticipation filled the future, one thing was sure: she’d accomplished something right.
She was raising a brave, bright, gorgeous girl.
And she’d achieved it all alone.
Still… there were days the loneliness crept in. Not just for a partner, but for someone who knew every part of her. Who saw the cracks and still stayed.
But fairytales had betrayed her once. She had no use for them now.
There was a knock at the door.
Extraordinary. Most neighbors called first.
She wiped her hands on a towel and opened it—only to find a man in a sharp suit standing on her porch, holding a clipboard.
“Emilia Rose?” he asked.
Her heart stuttered. “Yes?”
“I’m with Blackwood Holdings. You’ve been shortlisted for a creative consultant role. Full-time. Excellent pay. Relocation required.”
The name hit her like a slap.
She hadn’t heard it spoken aloud in three years.
“I didn’t apply for anything,” she said quickly, stepping in front of the doorway as if shielding Lila from the name itself.
“The application came through a recruiter,” he explained. “If you’re interested, the final interview is in the city next week.”
The city.
His city.
She stared at the card the man handed her. Clean font. Familiar logo.
“I’ll… think about it,” she said quietly, closing the door.
Lila was still singing softly at the table.
Emilia leaned back against the door, pulse racing.
She’d spent three years running. Three years building peace.
But now, the past had found her again.
And whether she wanted to or not…
She was going back.
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