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Ben sat back down,flustered. He tightened his hand around hers before gently withdrawing, foldinghis arms across his chest as if to shield any vulnerability.
‘Sorry, Ella,’ Bensaid, his voice steady but not without a tremor of regret. ‘I'm not getting anyyounger, and there are things I want in life. Things I'm ready for now.’
Ben launched to hisfeet, creating a distance that was more than physical. ‘I think... I think weneed to take a break.’
Ella replayed thecomment a few times in her head, feeling like she’d walked into a fever dream.
The words fell like aguillotine, severing the last thread of hope she had clung to.
Her heart constrictedpainfully in her chest as she watched him, the man she loved, retreat behind awall of resolve.
She wanted to scream,to reach out and pull him back from the ledge of this unexpected precipice, buther body refused to cooperate.
Gutted and feelingsuddenly empty, Ella sat motionless, a silent cry lodged in her throat.
‘Ben, I…’ Words failedher, emotions coiling tightly around her vocal cords. The room seemed to spin,the walls compressing, threatening to crush her beneath the enormity of Ben’sabrupt decision.
Her vision turned to ahaze, the edges of reality smudging into a watercolor of grief and shock. Therewas nothing left to say, no plea to be made that could bridge the distancebetween his desires and her duty.
Outside, a rumble ofthunder punctuated the grief. Ella Dark, renowned for her tenacity and courage,found herself lost in the eye of a storm she couldn't control, her voicesilenced by the crack of her breaking heart.
CHAPTER THREE
Mia Ripley sankfurther into the comforting embrace of her living room's armchair, cradling anaged novel whose leather binding had seen better days. Across from her, Martinsat hunched over the chessboard, his fingers jumping from one piece to anotheras he played both sides of the game.
‘What kind of personplays chess against themselves?’ Mia asked.
Martin looked up, hiseyes twinkling, grin spreading from ear to ear.
‘Strategy,’ hereplied, moving his bishop with a decisive click against the wooden board.‘Playing both sides helps you learn to stay one step ahead. You should knowthis, Miss FBI.’
Mia smirked at thename. Thirty years chasing shadows within the FBI had indeed been a relentlessgame of chess, though with stakes perilously higher than those on Martin'sboard. Now, on the cusp of retirement, she found herself in this quietdomesticity, a game where the next move was hers alone to ponder without theweight of others' survival upon her shoulders.
As she returned hergaze to the yellowed pages before her, the past's grip seemed to loosen, threadby thread. In these fleeting moments with Martin, each second felt like agentle wave retreating from the shore of her former life. But Mia knew, deepdown, that the tide was never truly still; it was merely biding its time.
The tranquillityshattered as the sharp trill of Mia’s phone sliced through the calm. Shereached for it with a sense of foreboding, muscle memory honed from decades ofurgent calls at stupid o’clock. The screen illuminated to reveal a message fromElla, her words stark in the digital light.
Ben wants to coolthings down because I won’t move in with him, themessage read.
Mia's heart anchoredto the ocean floor. She clenched her teeth, recalling the few times she’d seenElla and Ben together in the flesh. Ella had definitely been punching above herweight looks–wise, Ripley reasoned, and as much as she loved the girl, thechances of that bookworm landing another shredded young stud any time soon wereslim.
Mia’s heart ached forher partner, and she could almost feel the weight of Ella’s distress throughthe phone. Guilt coiled around her chest like a cold serpent. This peace, thisrarefied air she breathed beside Martin, was punctured by the harsh needle ofreality.
‘Something wrong?’Martin's voice was a lifeline back to the present.
‘Dark is texting me.Relationship woes,’ Mia murmured, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. Howcould she relish this gentle night knowing Ella was out there, grappling with atorn heart?
Her own contentmentnow seemed a fragile shell, ready to crack at the faintest pressure. Shewatched the chess pieces on Martin’s board and wondered how many moves aheadshe needed to see to protect those she held dear.
‘Hard to watch someoneyou care about go through that.’
‘Especially whenyou're just starting to feel the ground beneath your feet again.’
‘But she’s a biggirl,’ Martin said. ‘And she’s what, thirty?
‘Yeah.’
‘It’s a part of life,although that Ben guy was swell. I’ve never met anyone under forty who likedSteely Dan.’
