PART 6:

Sure. They sat on Victoria’s back porch overlooking the pond. The sun was setting, turning the water orange and gold. The fish moved lazily, their scales catching the light. “I used to hate this town,” Victoria said suddenly. Same. Couldn’t wait to leave. Had it all planned out, college in Boston, job in New York. Never look back.

What happened? My mother left when I was 16, just gone one day. No note, no explanation. My father fell apart, started drinking. I stayed to keep things together until graduation. Then college happened, and he got worse. So I came back on weekends. Then every weekend. Then I just never left. Daniel watched her, the way her jaw tightened, the way her hands gripped the coffee mug like it might escape.

“I built my career remotely,” she continued. “Consulting, investments, made more money than I knew what to do with. Bought the house, hired caregivers for my father, told myself I was making it work.” Sounds like you were. “I was lying to myself. You can’t build a life in the margins. You can’t be everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

” She looked at him. “You left. You actually did it. You got out. And I came crawling back.” At least you tried. “Trying doesn’t count for much when you fail.” Victoria smiled, sad and distant. “No, it doesn’t.” They sat in silence, the weight of shared failure settling between them. It should have felt depressing.

Somehow it didn’t. “Do you regret it?” Daniel asked. “Staying?” Victoria thought for a long time. “I don’t know. I regret not having a choice. Does that count?” “Yeah, that counts.” She finished her coffee, set the mug down. “What about you? Do you regret leaving?” Daniel stared at the pond, at the fish that didn’t care about regret or choices or the past.

“I regret a lot of things,” he said finally. “Leaving’s just one of them.” “What’s another?” He looked at her, really looked at her. At the way the fading light caught in her eyes, at the exhaustion she carried like a second skin, at the woman who’d kept a plastic ring because a stupid kid had made a stupid promise.

“Not calling,” he said quietly. Victoria went still. “Daniel, I should have called, should have visited, should have done a lot of things I didn’t do.” “You don’t owe me anything.” “That’s not true.” “It is.” “Victoria, you were 18. You had a life to build. I didn’t expect you to come back for me.” “But you wanted me to.

” She didn’t answer, didn’t need to. The silence said everything. Daniel set his mug down, leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I’m sorry.” “For what?” “For being a coward, for running, for forgetting.” “You didn’t forget.” “I tried to.” Victoria reached over, her hand brushing his arm, just briefly, just enough.

“I tried to forget, too. Didn’t work for either of us, I guess.” They sat there as the sun finished setting, the sky turning dark, the pond fading into shadow. Somewhere inside the house, a clock chimed eight. Daniel knew he should go. Emma would be wondering where he was, but he didn’t move and neither did Victoria.

“I kept the box,” she said finally. “I know.” “Do you want to see it?” Daniel’s chest tightened. “I don’t know.” “That’s honest.” “It’s all I’ve got.” Victoria stood brushing off her jeans. “Come on.” She led him inside through the sprawling house to a room he hadn’t seen before, an office maybe or a study.

Bookshelves lined the walls filled with spines that looked read and loved. A desk sat by the window, papers scattered across it in organized chaos. Victoria opened a drawer, pulled out a small wooden box. It was the same one from when they were kids, the one they’d buried in her backyard with all their important things.

Scratched and worn, but intact. She set it on the desk, stepped back. “Open it,” she said. Daniel hesitated, then lifted the lid. Inside was the ring. Plastic and faded, the fake gold paint flaking off in places. Beside it was a folded piece of paper, the contract they’d written promising to marry when they grew up. Daniel’s handwriting was terrible, even at 12.

Victoria’s was careful, precise. There were other things, too. A ticket stub from a movie they’d seen, a photo of them at the creek, both grinning like idiots, a coin from the arcade that used to be downtown. Fragments of a life that didn’t exist anymore. “Why did you keep this?” Daniel asked, his voice rough.

Victoria stood beside him looking down at the box. “Because it was real.” “Even if it was stupid, even if we were kids, it was real.” “And I didn’t have a lot of real things.” Daniel picked up the ring, turned it over in his fingers. It weighed nothing. Meant everything. “I don’t know what you want from me,” he said quietly.

“I don’t want anything.” Then why show me this? Because you’re here and I’m here and maybe that means something. Daniel looked at her and the distance between them felt impossible and nonexistent at the same time. Before he could say anything, his phone rang. Emma. He answered, stepping back. Hey, sweetheart.

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