“You sure?” she asked gently.
I stared ahead, my eyes unfocused.
“Yeah.”
“You don’t call like you used to,” she said.
I exhaled quietly. “I’ve been busy.”
“With work?”
“With everything.”
“That doesn’t mean you gotta go quiet on me,” she said softly.
My throat tightened because I knew what she meant. She wasn’t talking about phone calls. She was talking about me. The way I had pulled back. The way I kept everything surface-level. The way I didn’t let her in anymore.
“I’m still here,” I said.
“I know,” she replied. “And I’m still right here, too.”
“I know.” But it didn’t feel the same. Not because of her. She tried. She took the drive here a few times and I had my assistant tell her I was busy. Because somewhere along the way, I had learned how to build a life that looked full without actually letting anything inside of it touch me and seeing her and Zayden hurt too fuckin’ bad. Zayden resembled the love of my life too much. When I saw his smile I saw Xavier’s and when I looked at Zayden all I could hear was his words unraveling my world.
After we hung up, I sat there for a while, the house quiet around me.
I could hear Genesis faintly through the monitor, her breathing soft and steady.
I looked around the room, at the furniture, the decor, the life I had built piece by piece. Everything was in place. Everything made sense. Everything looked like success.
And still, something felt missing.
Not loud enough to break anything. Not strong enough to make me walk away.
Just there.
I had everything I worked for. I just didn’t know if any of it was what I actually wanted, and for the first time in years, I felt a deep yearning in the pit of my stomach, and I realized that I would give anything to play theMichael Jackson Experienceon the Wii with my best friend one more time.
2026
By the time Genny was ten, I knew how to read a room before I even stepped into it. It was a skill I picked up in court, but it carried into everything else. I had unfortunately perfected the silence, the energy, and the way something could feel off before you had proof of it. That morning, when I pulled into the driveway, I felt it before I even turned the key in the ignition.
Something was wrong.
The house looked the same from the outside. The shrubs were perfect, but the fence that surrounded the house was open. I told myself I would quickly change out of my court clothes so I could surprise Genny and pick her up from ballet instead of Justice for a change.
I closed the door behind me slowly, my heels echoing against the hardwood floor as I stepped inside. My eyes moved across the living room, scanning without meaning to. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. But the couch, the table, and the bookshelf in my downstairs office all looked fine. Everything looked untouched, but something was missing. It didn’t hit meall at once what was wrong, but then suddenly I realized Charles was gone.
His shoes weren’t by the door, and his keys weren’t on the counter. His favorite recliner in the corner of the living room, where he always sat with his laptop, was gone.
I walked toward the bedroom, slower now, my chest tightening with each step.
The closet door was open.
And half of it was empty.
Nothing was scattered. This motherfucka didn’t leave in a hurry. He left no fuckin’ mess. Hangers were spaced out as if they had always been that way. Drawers partially pulled open, nothing left inside but the things that belonged to me. I stood there for a second, staring at the empty half of the closet as I waited for my mind to catch up with what I was seeing.
Then I reached for my phone, and I called him. His phone rang with no response. I got his voicemail, so I tried again, then a third time, and when it rang twice, he picked up.
