PART 3:

Marble floors, high ceilings, art on the walls that probably cost more than his car. But it felt empty. Lived in, but not alive. Like a museum someone happened to sleep in. You’ve done well for yourself, Daniel said, because he didn’t know what else to say. Have I? She led him through the foyer into a sitting room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the pond Emma had mentioned.

The fish were visible even in the fading light, orange and white shapes drifting lazily. Drink? Victoria asked. Sure. She poured two glasses of something amber from a crystal decanter, handed him one, and sat in a chair that looked like it cost more than his mortgage. Daniel stayed standing, uneasy. You didn’t come here to talk about Emma, Victoria said.

No. Then why? He took a sip. Whiskey. Good whiskey. The kind that burns smooth. I don’t know. Victoria smiled faintly, humorlessly. Honest, I’ll give you that. Why are you still here? The question came out before he could stop it. She didn’t answer right away. Just swirled her glass, watching the liquid catch the light.

My father. Is he sick? Dying. Has been for 3 years. Alzheimer’s. Daniel felt the air shift, the conversation suddenly heavier. I’m sorry. Don’t be. He doesn’t know who I am most days. Doesn’t know where he is. Doesn’t know anything except that he’s scared and angry and nothing makes sense. That why you stayed? That’s why I came back.

I stayed because she trailed off, staring out the window. Because someone had to and my mother’s been gone since I was 16, so it’s me. Daniel set his glass down. You gave up everything. I didn’t give up anything. I built everything from here. Remote work, video calls, flying out when I had to. It’s not ideal, but it’s functional.

That’s not the same as living. No. It’s not. They sat in silence for a while, not uncomfortable, just heavy. Daniel thought about all the years he’d been gone chasing something he couldn’t name while Victoria stayed and built an empire out of duty. It made him feel small. Emma likes you, he said finally.

She’s a good kid. She doesn’t have a lot of people. Neither do you. He didn’t argue. Couldn’t. Victoria stood, walked to the window, her reflection ghostly in the glass. Do you remember the promise? She asked. Daniel went cold. What? The promise. We were 12. You gave me a ring from a quarter machine and said we’d get married when we grew up.

He remembered, vaguely. A stupid kid thing, meaningless. That was a long time ago, he said carefully. “I still have it.” That stopped him. “What?” Victoria turned, her expression unreadable. “The ring. The box we buried in my backyard with all our important things. I dug it up years ago. It’s upstairs.” Daniel didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what that meant.

“Why?” he managed. She smiled, sad and distant. “Because some people move on and some people wait.” The weight of that statement between them like a third presence. Daniel wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come. Before he could try, Victoria’s phone rang.

She glanced at the screen and her entire demeanor shifted, tension flooding her shoulders, her jaw tightening. “I have to take this,” she said and walked out of the room. Daniel stood there alone, staring at the pond, at the fish that didn’t care about promises or the past, wondering what the hell he’d just walked into. When Victoria came back 10 minutes later, her face was pale.

“I have to go,” she said, her voice brittle. “My father there’s been a complication. They’re taking him to the hospital.” “Do you need No, I need to go now.” She grabbed her keys, her purse, moving with the efficiency of someone who’d done this too many times. Daniel followed her to the door, helpless. “Victoria.

” She stopped, hand on the doorknob, and looked back at him. For a moment, she looked like the girl he remembered, uncertain, afraid, human. “Don’t leave,” she said quietly. “What?” “Willow Creek. Don’t leave again.” Then she was gone, the door closing behind her, the sound echoing through the empty house. Daniel stood there for a long time, alone in a mansion that wasn’t his, holding a glass of expensive whiskey he didn’t want, trying to understand what just happened.

When he finally walked home, the night felt different. Heavier. Like something had shifted that couldn’t be shifted back. Emma was asleep on the couch when he got in, her rabbit tucked under her arm. Daniel sat beside her careful not to wake her and stared at the ceiling. The promise. He’d forgotten about it.

Buried it under years of other mistakes, other failures. But Victoria hadn’t. Victoria had kept it. Kept the ring, kept the memory. Kept waiting. And now her father was dying and she was alone and Daniel was here. Back in the place he swore he’d never return to with a daughter who needed stability and a life that was hanging by a thread.

He closed his eyes. Some promises don’t fade, they wait. And whether he wanted it or not, his was coming due. Victoria didn’t come back for 3 days. Daniel knew because he kept looking. Not deliberately, or maybe it was deliberate and he was lying to himself about it. Either way, his eyes found her driveway every time he passed a window.

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