“It’s going well,” he said. “I created a darkroom in the basement and managed to develop the pictures there.” He leaned back slightly in his chair. “I’m thinking about getting a separate space. Somewhere I can feature my work.”
“That sounds like a great idea,” I said sincerely.
Over the following weeks, Cole began coming by the house more often. Sometimes he stopped by to spend time with Lucas. Other times, he joined us for dinner. I often watched quietly from the kitchen or the living room while Lucas ran around the yard with him, their laughter echoing through the air.
Seeing my son that happy filled my heart with joy.
However, it also stirred something far more complicated inside me.
The joy on Lucas’s face when he played with Cole looked painfully familiar. I had seen that same joy before when Lucas had bonded with Harper. I had seen it again when he grew close to Caleb.
Each time, the same thing had happened.
Each time, it was me who had ended the relationship.
Each time, Lucas had been the one left confused and hurt.
I knew I had made those decisions to protect myself and my son, yet I could not ignore the guilt that followed those choices. I hated the idea that Lucas had to keep rebuilding emotional bonds only to watch them crumble.
I promised myself then that it would not happen again.
Lucas deserved stability in his life.
And if I was being honest with myself, so did I.
I had already decided that I would remain here in this village and build a life for myself and my children. The restaurant, my home, and Lucas were the centre of that life now.
I had fought too hard to create this stability to let anything disrupt it.
I would remain single.
I would focus on my children and the business.
Nothing and no one would change that.
I would not allow it.
Not even if they tried.
18
COLE
The therapy sessions with Silvia continued even after I had finished the program at the centre. Coming back home to an empty house had been hard. For two months, I had been surrounded by people—patients, counsellors, staff—voices in the hallways, footsteps, someone always nearby. Now the silence inside the house pressed down on me like a weight. Still, the rehabilitation journey had changed me in ways I had never thought possible. I intended to maintain that change for the rest of my life, no matter how hard it would be. I owed that much to the two people whose absence still carved a hollow ache inside my chest.
For Eva and Chloe.
A recent session with my therapist gave me another push to do something I truly did not want to do. Even thinking about it made my stomach twist with discomfort. Every instinct inside me wanted to avoid it, but I knew there was no way around it if I truly wanted to move forward.
“Today, I want to try something different,” Silvia stated during one of our sessions. Her calm voice carried the same reassurance it always did. “We are going to talk about support.Something you need… now that you are back at your own house.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, leaning back slightly in the chair.
“Well, for your recovery to succeed and for you to stay on this path, you need a network of people who will be there for you and help you, like your family, for example, and your friends.” I shifted in my chair, suddenly aware of how uncomfortable the topic made me feel. “So, let’s start with family, shall we?” she asked, tilting her head slightly and watching me with a questioning look.
I already had Jack and Maureen, who had become like family to me. Their kindness and constant support had filled a part of my life that had once been empty. But I knew that was not what Silvia meant. She was talking about something deeper. Something I had avoided for years.
I cleared my throat, feeling the familiar tightness rise in my chest. “My mum and dad passed away years ago. I have a brother, but we’ve been estranged for a while now.” I paused, my fingers curling together as memories surfaced. “It happened after my wife and daughter passed away.”
