Chapter 4
1106 Words
COLIN’S POV
I didn’t sleep.
I went back to the hotel, changed, and sat on the edge of the bed staring at nothing. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her in the rain, standing there like I was someone she had already erased.
“You lost me.”
The words didn’t leave.
I got up before morning.
Max answered on the second ring. “You’re still in New York?”
“Yes.”
“You were supposed to come back.”
“I’m not done here.”
A pause. “You saw her. You talked to her. What else are you looking for?”
“Everything she didn’t say.”
“That’s not how this works.”
“It is now.”
“Colin, you don’t even remember her. You’re chasing something you don’t understand.”
“I will.”
Silence stretched between us.
“Come back,” he said. “We’ll handle this properly.”
“I’m already handling it.”
“You’re making it worse.”
“Then let me.”
I ended the call before he could say anything else.
Because if I stayed on the line, I might start listening, and I didn’t want to listen. Not when everything in me was telling me there was more.
By the time I got to the gallery, it wasn’t open yet. The street was quiet, the glass doors locked, lights still off inside. I stood there longer than I should have, watching my reflection in the glass more than anything beyond it.
I didn’t recognize it.
Not fully.
“You’re early.”
I turned. Lila stood a few steps away, arms folded, already watching me like she had expected this.
“Nadia isn’t coming in yet,” she said.
“I can wait.”
“That’s a bad idea.”
“I’ve had worse.”
She studied me for a moment. “You’re the ex-husband.”
“Yes.”
“The one who showed up in the rain.”
“I’m not here to repeat that.”
“Then what are you here for?”
“I need to understand what happened.”
She exhaled slowly. “Then you’re already too late.”
“Where is she?”
“Not here.”
“I’ll wait.”
She shook her head, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. I stayed where I was for a moment, then followed.
The gallery was quiet during the day, stripped of everything that made it look like something else. I walked through it slowly, not really paying attention to anything around me, just staying long enough to make it clear I wasn’t leaving.
“She won’t be here for a while,” Lila said.
“I’m not in a hurry.”
“You should be.”
“I’m not.”
She watched me, then said, “You hurt her.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
I didn’t respond.
“She stopped waiting for you a long time ago,” she added. “You just didn’t notice.”
That stayed with me.
Because I had seen it, not from memory, but from something else, something that showed me more than I was ready to understand.
My phone buzzed again. Max. I ignored it.
“Where does she live?” I asked.
Lila didn’t answer.
“I’m not asking for anything else,” I said. “Just the address.”
“That’s already too much.”
“I’m not leaving without it.”
“You should.”
“I’m not.”
She held my gaze longer this time, like she was deciding whether this was worth it.
Then she pulled out her phone, typed something, and held it out. “Don’t make me regret this.”
I memorized the address.
“Thank you.”
“That wasn’t for you,” she said. “That was so you stop showing up here.”
I didn’t argue.
I left immediately.
The drive wasn’t long, but it felt longer than it should have. The city moved around me like nothing had changed, like this wasn’t the point where everything started shifting. I kept thinking about what she didn’t say, about the way she avoided certain things, about how easily she walked away.
That didn’t happen without a reason.
The building wasn’t what I expected. It wasn’t empty or distant. It felt lived in, like something real existed inside it.
I stood across the street for a moment, watching the windows, then crossed before I could think too much about it.
The door opened without resistance.
Inside, the hallway was quiet. No voices, no movement, just soft light and still air. I stepped forward slowly, my attention shifting without me trying to control it.
Then I heard it.
A voice.
Soft and small.
I stopped, listening more carefully this time. It came again, clearer, uneven, not adult.
I moved toward it without thinking, slower now, more aware of everything around me.
The closer I got, the clearer it became.
There were two voices.
One I recognized immediately.
Nadia.
The other was lighter, closer, right beside her.
I stopped outside a half-open door. The voices were just inside, low and steady, like whatever was happening in there didn’t belong to anyone else.
I stepped closer, just enough to see and then I stopped.
She was standing near the center of the room, her attention focused downward, her posture completely different from anything I had seen before. There was no distance in the way she held herself, no control in the way she moved, just a kind of ease that didn’t match the woman I had spoken to the night before.
There was a child beside her.
Close.
One hand gripping her, like that was where it belonged.
Nadia bent slightly, brushing something off his sleeve, her movements natural, automatic, like she had done it a hundred times before. She said something quietly, her voice softer than I had ever heard it, the kind of tone that didn’t leave space for anything else.
I didn’t move, didn’t speak because none of it made sense.
She turned slightly, not toward me, but toward him, and for a second I saw her face clearly. There was nothing guarded there, no hesitation, just something steady and real that didn’t need effort.
The child shifted and turned, looking straight at me, quiet and still, like he was trying to understand what he was seeing.
I held his gaze without meaning to.
Something about it didn’t sit right.
I couldn’t explain it, didn’t understand it but I couldn’t ignore it either.
Then he spoke.
“Mommy…”
- Writer
