Chapter 2 – Roots of an Arrangement
962 Words
The orchard hadn't changed.
Rows of apple trees stretched toward the horizon like childhood secrets. Nathalie stepped out of the cab, her heels sinking slightly into the soft soil. The sun dappled through the leaves above, just like it had when she was twelve and Benjamin was the boy who pedaled too fast, never looking back to see if she kept up.
She followed the narrow trail that led to the old bench by the willow tree. It creaked under her weight—older now, like her.
“Thought I'd find you here."
The voice behind her made her stiffen.
Benjamin.
She didn't turn. “Let me guess. Marla told you."
“She said you asked the driver for the orchard." He stepped into view, hands in his pockets, tie loosened again, always calculatedly casual. “You used to love this place."
“I still do," she murmured. “But now it feels more like a museum."
Benjamin's eyes scanned the trees, the bench, then finally her. “You're not wearing your ring."
“I took it off the night you handed Holly my award," she said.
He flinched. “You designed the dress. She just wore it."
“Funny. I thought I designed it for me."
They fell silent. Wind rustled the leaves. Somewhere nearby, a bird called.
“I used to think," she said, eyes distant, “if I stood right here long enough, you'd look at me the way you looked at her. Like I was the center of the summer."
Benjamin shifted. “Don't bring up Holly."
“Why not?" Nathalie snapped, finally facing him. “She's in every room with us, even when she's not."
“I married you," he said tightly.
“No," she corrected. “You *obeyed* your mother. That's not the same."
Benjamin's jaw clenched. “She was dying. She didn't trust Holly. She thought you were steady. Kind."
“She thought I was obedient." Nathalie's voice turned quiet. “You wanted to please her. And I—God help me—I wanted to believe I could make you stay."
He looked away.
Nathalie's voice softened. “Do you remember the day she told you?"
He nodded once. “We were by the fountain. She said, 'Don't make the same mistake I did. Don't marry a wildfire.'"
“She meant Holly."
“She always thought Holly would break me."
“And instead," Nathalie said, “you broke me."
His eyes flicked to hers. “I never meant to."
“Intent doesn't matter anymore, Benjamin. Choices do."
He exhaled hard. “So this is it?"
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she reached into her purse and pulled out a folded photo—aged, with curling corners.
Two kids on bikes. Him ahead. Her chasing.
“Do you remember this?" she asked.
“Summer of '06," he murmured. “Your handlebars were covered in streamers."
“I followed you everywhere," she said. “Even when you didn't wait."
He studied the photo, then her. “You're not that girl anymore."
“No," she agreed. “I finally stopped chasing."
Benjamin tucked the photo into his jacket pocket. “So what now?"
“I go forward," she said. “And you… you keep your curated life."
He stepped closer. “We could try again."
A dry laugh escaped her lips. “You think I want to be your backup plan?"
“I'm saying I'm willing to change."
She stared at him. “Now? After everything?"
“I don't know how to lose you."
“You never had me," she said quietly. “You just had access."
He was silent.
She turned to leave, then paused.
“One last thing," she said without looking back. “When you chose to marry me, did you ever feel… anything real?"
Benjamin didn't answer.
And that was her answer.
---
That night, Nathalie returned to the mansion one final time.
Marla met her at the door. “You're back late, ma'am."
“Just for tonight," she said. “I'll pack in the morning."
The house echoed as she climbed the stairs. Jim's door was slightly ajar, and she peeked in. He was fast asleep, arms wrapped around his stuffed dinosaur.
She stepped inside, brushing back his hair.
“I'm sorry," she whispered. “You'll understand one day."
A voice came from behind her.
“He had a fever earlier. Holly brought him soup."
Nathalie turned to find Benjamin in the doorway.
“She's not his mother," Nathalie said sharply.
“No," he admitted. “But she's always been family."
“And I've always been invisible."
He stepped forward, but she moved past him.
“I'll call the movers in the morning," she said coldly. “Keep the house. Keep your designer. Keep the façade."
He followed her down the hallway. “Don't leave like this."
“I'm not leaving," she said, pausing at her door. “I'm escaping."
---
Morning light spilled through the curtains.
Nathalie stood at the entrance, suitcase in hand.
Jim clutched her leg. “Where are you going, Mommy?"
She knelt beside him. “Somewhere new, sweetheart. Somewhere just for me."
“Will I see you?"
“Of course," she said, kissing his cheek. “But not here. Not like this."
Benjamin came down the stairs slowly. “Can we talk?"
“Not today," she said. “Maybe not ever."
He stared at her, stunned. “You're really doing this."
Nathalie gave a small, sad smile. “For once, I'm choosing myself."
The door closed behind her like the final beat of a symphony.
---
Later that afternoon, Benjamin sat alone in the orchard, the photo still in his hands.
A child chasing someone who never looked back.
He finally understood.
He had never deserved her.
- Writer
