Daughter | Bk 3 | 01 | Inferno

Foreward

This book ends the series with a final focus on Julie & Tony. Ensemble cast will drift in as necessary. Part two and three ready to upload. My profile is updated for all other works in progress.

Thank you for reading the story. I appreciate the continued constructive criticism/comments.

Warning: Yes. I am attempting a reconciliation... of sorts. Not a RAAC.

******

Daughter | Bk 03 | Pt 01 | Inferno

"Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita, mi ritrovai per una selva oscura, ché la diritta via era smarrita."

"In the middle of the journey of our life, I found myself within a dark woods where the straight way was lost."

-- Inferno, Canto I

******

Chapter o1 | The Bandaged Brunch

Sunday June 9 2024 | 11 AM | Meadows Diner

Julie barely registered the blur of storefronts as the car glided down Route 8. Her stomach had been tight since the Throgs Neck. Twice, she nearly told the driver to turn back. But she didn't. She couldn't.

The bandage needed to be ripped off if the wound was ever going to heal.

Past the gas station, past the old bakery, every corner carried a memory. Report cards, post-game pancakes, quiet coffees with Tony. She used to know this town like her own hands. Now it felt like it was bracing against her.

The car slowed to a stop. Meadows Diner gleamed like a relic under the morning sun, chrome and red trim glinting, its windows throwing off a confidence she no longer had.

"Thanks, ma'am. Have a great day. Don't forget to rate," the driver chirped as the locks clicked.

Julie hesitated, fingers tapping a shaky rhythm on the door handle.

Places had energy. This one used to feel like home. Now it looked like it wanted her gone.

"Ma'am? Everything alright?"

She startled. "Yes, sorry. Thank you."

She stepped out, pulling her jacket tighter, smoothing her dress. The breeze smelled like bacon and burnt coffee. Familiar. Cruel.

Six months ago, she'd walked into clubs with heels and manufactured confidence. Today, she stood frozen outside a diner. Same woman, different confidence.

She inhaled, forced a smile, and opened the door. The bells over the door jingled off-key.

"Julie! Good morning," called Taylor, the hostess, from the podium.

"They're at the usual," she added with a smile.

"Thanks, Taylor. Good morning."

Julie's eyes scanned the corner booth. Their booth.

Sunlight spilled in over the table, casting warm stripes across her family. Laughter curled out of the booth like smoke. Untouchable.

And then she saw her.

Young. Pretty. Relaxed. Her hand rested on Tony's forearm.

Julie's heart dropped.

"Please don't be his girlfriend."

Then the girl leaned her head onto Scott's shoulder. His arm draped around her without a second thought.

Relief washed over her, then receded again. Bittersweet. Someone new had taken a seat in her absence. Not a replacement. But still. Someone.

Just be yourself. Smile. Breathe.

God, what if they don't want you here?

Sara spotted her first. The smile on her face faltered. Her eyes were wide as her hand found Jon's beneath the table.

One by one, they all looked up.

"Good morning," Julie lifted a hand in a soft wave. "May I join you?"

The conversation died instantly.

Julie wore a green dress with sunflower dots, a denim jacket creased at the elbows. Her ponytail swayed slightly as she hovered, not yet sitting. Not yet invited.

She didn't move, but the strain in her stance gave her away.

Tony's gaze found hers. A pit opened in his chest.

She still looked like the woman he'd loved. And that made it worse.

He gripped his fork tighter.

Part of him wanted to offer her a seat. Part of him wanted to bolt.

"Mom," Scott said, voice cracking the silence.

Sara inhaled sharply. Her fingers locked around Jon's.

Julie bowed her head slightly, her voice shaky. "Please?"

Her leg shook. The question lingered, unanswered.

Tony stared. Then he looked down.

Sara stood. "Take my spot next to Jon. I'll sit by Dad."

Julie took a half step forward, then back. "Only if it's okay. If not... maybe this was a mistake."

She turned, ready to go.

Two weeks ago, she'd been in a hospital bed. Now she looked... Older. Thinner.

Tony's voice, low and sharp: "What, no new experiences lined up today?"

"Dad!" snapped Sara. Jon's jaw flexed. Scott shifted beside Liv.

Tony looked down. Shamed by his own mouth.

Across the booth, Olivia stared at her water glass.

Her shoulders gave. The tears came as Penny reached them.

"Julie! Hey, sweetheart. Are you sitting down with your family today?"

Then Penny paused, reading the room.

"Come on, hon. Let's freshen you up a bit."

She took Julie's hand and led her away.

They disappeared into the hallway.

******

At the table, Sara turned a firm gaze to her father.. "That was cruel. You're better than that."

Tony looked away, his jaw tight. "I know. It's just... it's still raw, Sara."

"She's broken... Like the rest of us."

Sara glanced at the others, then lowered her voice. "Look, I'm not asking you to forgive her. But I'm asking you not to shut her out."

Tony's shoulders slumped, his voice roughened. "I don't know if I'm ready, Sara,"

Sara reached for his hand. "Then don't talk to her. Just be civil. She's already acting more like the mom we used to know... and not the... bitch who tore us apart."

Tony's mouth twisted. "Hey, language. She's still your mother."

"Exactly." said Sara, her eye contact unwavering with that statement.

Tony sighed, realizing Sara had outmaneuvered him. "Scott..."

Scott rested a hand on his shoulder. A quiet nod. 'It's time, Dad. Whatever moving forward looks like for us... it's time to face it."

Tony looked at his son. His daughter. The calm in their voices.

He used to lead this family. Now they were holding him steady.

When had they grown up?

When had he become the one who needed saving?

******

Diner Bathroom

The mirror's harsh fluorescent light did Julie no favors.

Mascara smudged in dark crescents beneath her eyes. Lips trembling, breath shallow. Her hands clung to the porcelain sink like it was the only solid thing in the room.

Behind her, Penny stood by the door, arms crossed gently over her apron, giving Julie space.

"Still got the same god awful lighting," Penny said softly, "Here," offering a tissue.

Julie let out a sharp, humorless laugh as she wiped her eyes.

"I shouldn't have come," she whispered.

"Don't say that." Penny leaned against the wall, her voice calm but firm. "You showed up. That counts for something."

Julie shook her head. "No... It's too soon. I saw their faces. They hate me."

"They're hurt. And rightfully so. But hate?" Penny shrugged. "I didn't see that. They're also trying to figure it out."

Julie looked at her, surprised.

Penny offered a small, knowing smile. "I've been serving your family for, what, twenty years now? I've seen your family grow up in that booth. Heard the fights. The toasts. Hell, I remember when Sara stormed out over a bad haircut and Tony brought her back with pancakes and a joke."

Julie's throat tightened.

"You broke something sacred," Penny said. Not cruel. Just true. "And now you're trying to mend it. That road's not short. Or smooth. And it sure as hell won't be painless."

Julie looked away.

"But if you mean it, if you really want to come back from this..." Penny stepped forward, offering a fresh towel. "You're gonna need thicker skin, steadier hands, and a damn spine. Apologizing's just the start. Earning them back? That's the mountain."

Julie straightened her spine slowly, the towel still clutched in her hands. Her reflection looked battered. But in her eyes... something steadier. A tremble, yes, but not fear. Not yet.

"But you showed up," Penny added gently. "And that's the first brick on the road back."

Julie met her gaze in the mirror, eyes still wet but steadier.

"Thank you," she said.

Penny offered a nod and a small squeeze of her shoulder. "Don't make me regret rooting for you, sweetheart. C'mon, let's get you back in the ring for the next round."

Chapter 02 | Fractures

As Penny and Julie returned to the table, Sara shot her father a look sharp enough to slice.

"Okay," Tony murmured, holding up his hands.

"Here you are, Julie. I'll bring over some coffee and your usual," Penny said, giving Julie's shoulder a comforting squeeze before calling out, "Coffee on 7!"

A helper appeared with coffee pots, filling each cup with a smile.

Julie took a seat next to Jon, her voice soft but steady. "Hello, Tony. Thank you for staying." She looked around the table. "Sara, Scott, Jon... It's... good to see you all. You have no idea how much I've missed you." She wiped her eyes and smiled. "And I see we have someone new with us. She must be someone special."

Liv blinked at the compliment, unsure if it was genuine or tactical.

Scott grinned. "Mom, I'd like to introduce you to Olivia, my girlfriend."

Her hand tightened around the warm cup, the weight of it grounding her as she tried to steady the realization. She had missed chapters of her children's lives.

She swallowed it down, smoothing it away with a smile as she turned toward Olivia, her fingers twitching slightly as she exhaled. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Olivia. Welcome, and I look forward to getting to know you."

Olivia nodded, offering a polite smile as she shook Julie's hand. "Thank you, ma'am. It's a pleasure to meet you too. I'm glad to see you're doing okay."

Julie's half-smile held a hint of surprise. Olivia must know about the hospital stay. "Thank you."

******

By the end of breakfast, Julie laughed alongside her family, a sound she hadn't realized she missed so deeply. The warmth of their voices and the simple joy of their banter wrapped around her, soothing and stinging in equal measure.

Her gaze shifted from Sara's animated retelling of her new role as CMO to Scott's shy smile as Olivia whispered something to him, to Jon's steady presence at Sara's side.

How much had she missed?

Julie's chest tightened painfully. She hadn't been there to see Sara's excitement or Jon's quiet pride, hadn't watched Scott's heart open to someone new. Every laugh, every glance, every tender touch at the table felt like a chapter she hadn't read, a book she used to help write, now written in a language she barely understood.

How could I have been so blind? She thought bitterly. I gave up all this... for what? Strangers? Fleeting thrills? I had everything I needed right here: a family, a husband who loved me, children who grew into remarkable adults. And I walked away.

I gave up so much for so little in return.

She looked up as Scott laughed at something Olivia said, his eyes bright with affection. I wasn't here for this. I missed seeing my son light up because of her. Hearing Sara's excitement, catching Jon's quiet pride, feeling Tony's steady presence at this table...

"I didn't find freedom... I just hurt the people I love most," Julie thought. All for validation from strangers who never mattered. Six months wasted trying to find what I thought was missing, when everything I needed was right here.

Julie eased into the conversation wherever she could, smiling at Scott's jokes and nodding along to Sara's stories. But each laugh only deepened the ache in her chest. With every shared memory, every update, her regret sharpened like glass.

I missed so much. And what if it's too late to get it back?

She watched Tony twist his coffee cup in silence, the slow motion of his fingers betraying more than he'd ever say aloud, his eyes fixed anywhere but on her. I hurt them all, but him the most. My heart aches for him the most... And now...

"I don't even know if I can fix this."

"Or if I deserve to try..."

******

Julie watched as Scott gently placed his hand on the small of Liv's back, guiding her through the crowded diner. It was an unconscious gesture, but Julie recognized it instantly. A gesture of protection. Of love. One of the many small tokens of affection she took for granted.

Sara and Jon rose next, preparing to say goodbye. Julie hugged them both a little tighter than they expected. Jon returned it quickly, but Sara paused, stiffening slightly before relaxing into the embrace. Julie held on a beat longer, then reached for Sara's hand.

"Sara? Can I call you this week?"

Sara paused, her green eyes searching Julie's face. "No."

Julie's heart sank before Sara continued. "Instead... why don't you come over to the apartment? We'll talk over coffee... face to face. And plan on sleeping over. Let's leave the phones out of it for a while."

Julie squeezed her hand, that small offer of grace landing like sunlight on a cold day. "Thank you. I'd like that. I've missed you."

Sara nodded, her expression softening slightly. "Thursday afternoon works best. I work from home on Friday, so I have some leeway. Let me know if you need me to get anything before then." She stood and left with Jon, glancing back once before the diner door closed behind them.

Settling back in her seat, Julie stared into her coffee cup. Her finger moved slowly along the rim, a quiet rhythm that steadied her breath as she braced for what came next. She lifted her head to face Tony, her chest tightening as she prepared for the hardest part of the morning.

"I'm sorry about my comment earlier," Tony said, breaking the silence. "It was a low blow."

Julie looked up, surprised. "A well deserved one, unfortunately," she whispered. "Part of me wishes you'd just gone for the jugular. Ended it."

Tony's jaw tightened, his voice sharp as he leaned closer. "Right... and then have to visit you in the hospital again? No, we were already concerned enough."

Julie's brows knitted in confusion. "Concerned? Why?"

Tony's incredulous laugh was short and bitter. "Why? You stormed out, angry as hell, and then just... disappeared. No calls, no texts. You even shut off your location. We had no idea where you were or if you were okay. We were worried, Julie. For you... us... For... What the hell were you thinking?" His voice cracked slightly. "Did thirty-five years mean nothing to you?"

Julie pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his words hitting her hard. "They mean everything to me," she whispered. "I'm sorry, Tone... for all of it."

Tony's expression hardened as he heard her pet name for him. "Saying sorry doesn't undo what you did. It doesn't bring back my trust... or the life we built."

"No, it doesn't," Julie said quickly, her voice trembling. "I know that. And I'm sorry for that too. But it gives me a starting point to pick myself up. I can't even explain the regret I feel. I was selfish... blind."

Tony leaned forward, his voice low and intense. "Selfish? Blind? Your eyes were wide open when you made those choices, Julie. You knew exactly what you were doing."

Julie's desperation spilled out, her voice trembling. "Yes. I got caught up in something... a moment of pure madness."

"A moment?" Tony said bitterly, his voice cutting through her excuse. "That moment lasted for months, Julie. Months of lies and betrayal. That's not madness... that's a choice."

Julie's hands trembled as she reached for her napkin, the linen catching awkwardly between her fingers as if even that small motion required strength she didn't have.

Tony's repeated use of the word choices pummeled her, forcing her to confront the truth she'd been avoiding. This wasn't something that happened to her; it was something she'd done, step by step, decision by decision.

"You're right. I did this. Every step, every lie. I walked straight into it. And I told myself whatever lies I needed to justify them. That you didn't love me anymore. That I deserved more. But all I was doing was running away from the best thing that ever happened to me. You."

Tony looked away, his jaw tight. "It's not just me, Julie. It's Sara, Scott. You didn't just leave me... you left all of us."

Julie's chest tightened as she thought of her children. "Yes. And I don't know how I can ever forgive myself for that." She took a breath. "But I want to try. To show you all that I can be better. Not with words, but with actions. I'm not asking for forgiveness, not yet. Just... a chance to try."

Tony let out a bitter laugh. "A chance? Like the one you gave me? Before the ultimatum? Before you flipped our life upside down and told me to just accept it?"

A long silence stretched between them, heavy with unsaid words. Tony looked away, his jaw clenched, his hands gripping his coffee cup.

"I don't know what to say, Julie," he said finally. "I don't know if I ever will."

Tony sat back, his gaze drifting until a glint of light caught his eye. He stared for a moment before speaking, his voice quiet but pointed. "You're still wearing your ring?"

Julie looked down at it, her voice trembling. "I never took it off."

Tony's jaw clenched. "Why?"

She swallowed. "Because I'm still your wife. Even if I'm not acting like I deserve to be."

Tony didn't answer right away. Just stared at the band on her finger like it had betrayed him too.

Julie reached across the table, her fingers brushing his hand. He didn't pull away, but he didn't move either.

"Can't we just... keep talking?" she asked, her voice tentative.

Tony's gaze met hers, and for a moment, his eyes softened. "Maybe," he said after a long pause, nodding slowly.

Julie exhaled shakily, feeling the tiniest crack in his walls.

"Are you going back to Cassie's?" Tony asked, breaking the moment.

"For now," she said hesitantly. "But I was hoping to stop home... by the house, I mean... to pick up some things. I wasn't thinking straight when I left, and I... I need things."

Tony studied her, his face unreadable. "You still call it home?"

Julie nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "It still feels like home... to me." She didn't dare tell him how much she needed that house to be her anchor, a lifeline to the life she was desperate to rebuild.

Tony leaned back in his seat, his expression hardening as though steeling himself against her words. "Fine," he said finally, his tone clipped. "I'll meet you there."

He hated how easy it was, falling back into old habits. Hated that a part of him still wanted to protect her, even now, when she had been the one to burn it all down.

Without another word, he rose and picked up the check.

His hand tightened briefly around it, a small, involuntary flash of something deeper, before he forced himself to move.

Julie cradled her cup with both hands, the remaining warmth of the ceramic barely reaching her fingertips. Her thoughts churned, restless and unfinished, chasing all the things she didn't say, and wasn't sure she ever could.

She remembered countless mornings at this table, Tony leaning back in the booth with that easy grin, Scott and Sara arguing over pancakes, her hand brushing his under the table just because she could.

The ghost of those memories hung around her like mist now, cold and untouchable.

She sat in the booth a while longer, the chill of the untouched coffee matching the heaviness in her chest. It was cold now... forgotten, like too many things she once took for granted. There was so much pain in her family now, pain she created. But as she stared at the door Tony had walked through, she couldn't ignore the faint glimmer of hope.

The door wasn't shut completely. It was cracked just enough for her to try.

"My actions will define my fate," she thought, steeling herself as she pulled out her phone, swiping for a rideshare.

Julie was going home. At least, she hoped she still could.

Chapter 03 | The House We Built

3PM | Westchester Home

Tony stepped through the mudroom like a man walking back into a memory he hadn't asked for. He left the garage open for Julie to park her car.

Moving with the efficiency of habit, he grabbed the Moka pot to brew coffee. He knew the discussion with Julie was far from over.

He had to give her credit for rejoining the family brunch... it was a bold step... but he wondered how she'd hold up when he confronted her with the evidence of her affair.

Placing the pot on the stove, he turned on the flame and pulled two mugs from the cabinet. As the coffee began its slow rise towards percolation, he glanced at the clock. "She should have been here by now," he thought, just as he heard the muffled sound of a car door closing.

He walked over to the living room and looked out the window, spotting a rideshare pulling away.  

Frowning, he opened the front door just as Julie approached with her keys in hand. She startled at the sight of him, then offered a tentative smile, her eyes lingering on the house they had built together.

"Why didn't you tell me you needed a ride? I would have driven you here. Where's your car?" Tony asked, his tone sharper than he intended.

Julie stepped past him into the house, her gaze flicking to the staircase, as if expecting the past to come rushing down it. She took a deep breath before turning to face him. She didn't want to admit she hadn't reclaimed the car from the hotel where her old life ended.

"I already felt like I was pushing my luck by coming to brunch this morning. I didn't want to inconvenience you any more than I already have." She hesitated. "My car's... still at the hotel parking lot."

"Of course it is," Tony said bitterly, his words laced with derision. He closed the door and walked to the kitchen without waiting for a response. "You'll find most of your things moved to the guest room. I didn't want to have to deal with you if you came back that night."

Julie lowered her head, her voice soft. "I understand."

Without waiting for a reply, she climbed the stairs to pack.

Tony leaned against the counter, staring at the folder he had set there earlier. Inside were photos. Should he bring them out? Did it matter? Did he even want to hear her excuses?

He let out a slow breath. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed to hear her reasoning. "Maybe I won't need the photos though," he thought.

The sound of Julie descending the stairs drew his attention. She carried a small suitcase, her steps hesitant but deliberate.

"Tony?" she said, her voice uncertain. She paused at the base of the stairs, clutching the suitcase. "Can we talk?"

Tony nodded, his tone edged with weariness. "Sure. Coffee? Or start with a tequila... it's been my drink of late."

Julie blinked at the unexpected offer. His fresh coffee smelled enticing, but she wanted to meet him on his level. "Starting with tequila sounds right."

Tony moved to the cabinet, retrieving two shot glasses... the ones they had picked up in Mexico, with blue swirls twisting through the glass. He poured generously, sliding one across the counter to her.

They raised their glasses in an unspoken acknowledgment of their shared history. One tilt later, the glasses clinked against the countertop. No salt. No lime. Just the burn and smoothness of tequila.

Julie studied Tony as he leaned back in his chair. His shoulders hung looser than she remembered, and the shadows under his eyes told her more than words ever could.

He's not taking care of himself,  she realized, guilt settling like a stone in her stomach.

She didn't think she could hate herself more than she already did. She was wrong.

"The bed in the main room hasn't been slept in," Julie said carefully. "Where are you sleeping? Are you sleeping?"

Tony's laugh was hollow, cutting through the silence. "What do you think? I'm sleeping in Scott's room. I can't sleep in that bedroom."

Julie swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "Tony, I never brought him here. No one else has ever slept, or loved, in that bed but you and me."

Tony's eyes burned with fury as he slammed his glass down. "Exactly. That was our bed. Not my bed. I can't fucking sleep in it."

His stare bore into her, and she felt the heat of his anger.

She flinched at his voice, but didn't back down.

"You had something to say?"

Julie stayed near the counter, her hand still clutching the suitcase like a lifeline. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her voice barely above a whisper. "Ok. Well... I'm not even sure where to begin."

Tony stared at her, his expression unreadable. Despite everything, she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. The thought twisted in his chest, stirring an urge to pull her into his arms. But his anger simmered, ready to boil over and drown any sentimentality. She wanted to talk... fine. He wasn't going to make it easy.

Tony leaned forward, his voice sharp. "Start with why."

Julie looked down, her fingers tightening around the handle of her suitcase. The floor seemed to tilt beneath her.

"That's... hard to explain," she said softly. "I talked myself into a version of life that didn't exist."

Tony's voice cracked, raw and ragged.  

"Why, Julie?"

Julie gripped the suitcase tighter, as if anchoring herself to this life. Her defenses collapsed all at once, and the truth, ugly and trembling, poured out.

"Because I was a goddamn fool," she choked. "Because I convinced myself I was bored. I listened to people who made me think love was a weakness. Because I forgot how lucky I was. I thought I deserved more when I already had everything I ever needed."

She blinked through tears, barely seeing him. "I lost my way, Tone. I lost me."

Tony's eyes burned into hers, his voice rising, heavy with anguish.

"You lost your way?" he echoed bitterly. "You didn't just lose your way, Julie. You threw everything we had in my face."

He leaned closer, the table trembling under his hands.

"Was I a bad husband? A poor lover? Did I make you unhappy? If you wanted a divorce..."

"No." The word tore from her lips in a broken whisper, then again, louder.  "No! None of the above. You were...  are... an amazing husband. The best lover I could have wished for. We were never unhappy. And I don't want a divorce. I don't... That will kill me."

Tony's knuckles whitened around his glass.

He wanted to believe her. God, part of him wanted it so badly.

But anger was safer.

"Not good enough, Julie," he said, voice low and brutal. He pushed the glass away. "Those aren't reasons to tell your husband he needs to accept you screwing other men."

Julie flinched as if slapped. She met his eyes, searching for the man who had once loved her so easily. All she found was pain, pain she had carved into him herself.

Her voice trembled. "I know. I can't explain it to myself. Not fully. Not yet."

She swallowed hard. "But I'm trying, Tony. I'm trying every damn day. I'm working through it with my therapist. I'm fighting to figure out how I let myself destroy everything I loved."

Her fists trembled on the countertop, knuckles pale, like she was trying to crush her guilt into silence.

I know it's not enough. But I'm not here for easy forgiveness."

"I'm here because you deserve the truth."

"Even if it breaks what little we have left."

Chapter 04 | Julie Explains It All

5 PM | Kitchen

"I woke up about a year ago and found myself in a dark place..."

"Apparently not that dark, since you had no trouble finding a dick to console yourself with," Tony cut in, his voice laced with bitterness.

Julie flinched, but, to Tony's surprise, she let out a small laugh. She loved his quick-witted sarcasm. "I know you're trying to hurt me, and I deserve that. But... it wasn't like that."

"Then what was it like?" Tony snapped.

Julie took a deep breath. "Once Sara and Scott moved out, I felt... useless. For 30 years, my life revolved around you and the kids, and suddenly it was just us... just me. I wasn't sure what to do with my time. I know I should have embraced that freedom, reconnected with us, but I felt lost."

Tony frowned but said nothing, letting her continue.

"I'd look in the mirror and see this... old woman staring back at me. Men didn't give me a second glance anymore. My youth was gone, and it felt like my desirability went with it."

"So, you were looking for someone to cheat with?" Tony shot back.

"No!" Julie's voice rose, then softened. "No. It was just... hard realizing that part of my life was over. I rationalized it... blamed hormones, aging, whatever. But I couldn't shake the feeling that I was becoming... invisible."

"Jules," Tony said, his tone gentler now, "you lit up my world. You still take my breath away."

Heat flushed Julie's cheeks, and she smiled faintly. "And that should have been more than enough for me. Because I love you so much. But I thought you said those things out of obligation, not because you meant them. I thought you were just... going through the motions."

Tony looked down at his hands, processing her words.

"Do you remember when we became serious in college?" Julie said, her voice softening. "We couldn't keep our hands off each other. Kisses in the hallways, ducking into empty classrooms, sneaking away...  anywhere... to make out. And once we started having sex..." Her smile turned wistful. "Dear God... It was electric. We couldn't wait to rip each other's clothes off."

Tony's lips twitched in a faint smile, but it faded quickly.

"When we got married and moved into that tiny apartment, it was still the same. We couldn't take a shower or get dressed without the other being there. You'd tease me, I'd grab you, and the way you looked at me..." She shook her head. "God, we had so much fun together. Even after the kids, we did everything we could to keep that spark alive."

"So, what changed?" Tony asked.

"I thought you were losing interest in me," Julie admitted. "I convinced myself you didn't look at me the same way anymore. You didn't steal kisses like you used to. I began writing articles about love and modern relationships. Instead of talking to you, I spoke to the women at work who said they were going through similar things. They introduced me to these... different ideas. About female empowerment, about my body being my choice, about open relationships. Things that I hadn't given a second thought to before, or even thought were possible."

Tony leaned back, his jaw tightening. "And that's when you started talking to Sara about your fears?"

Julie nodded. "I was terrified of becoming invisible. I just wanted to feel... seen. Desired. I rationalized those conversations. They sounded like freedom."

Tony's expression hardened. "Freedom, huh? What about the girls' nights? Was that part of your freedom, too?"

"Not at first, it really was just dinner and drinks," Julie said. "But then the girls wanted to go dancing. It was exciting... frenetic and loud. It reminded me of the clubs and concerts we went to when we were dating. And then... we met groups of younger men. They were charming, flattering. My friends started connecting with them."

"Connecting?" Tony repeated bitterly. "Cute. You mean screwing."

Julie flinched. "Yes. But I'd done nothing... yet. Just a few kisses."

"At least you're ashamed of that much," Tony muttered. "But that didn't last, did it? It wasn't enough for you..." said Tony.

Julie's tears welled up. "No... Tony, this isn't about you. I really thought I could keep it innocent, but... I didn't stop the advances. I didn't pull away when things went further."

"And then?" Tony pressed his tone cold.

Julie's voice dropped to a whisper. "The deeper I fell, the stronger the fantasy gripped me... that I could have it all. Our life. My freedom. No consequences."

"I didn't realize how far gone I was."

Tony let out a bitter laugh. "So that morning in bed. Was that your way of softening me up for your little sales pitch? One last round to make your betrayal easier to swallow?"

Julie's face crumpled. "No! That morning, I became lost in you. In us...  "I thought... maybe if I showed you how much I loved you... you'd understand.  That nothing would change if I had this... other thing. That my body would still feel the same for you."

Tony shook his head, his voice thick with emotion. "Well. I never wanted anyone else, Jules. Not once. Until that afternoon, I was happy. Completely happy. Now, I don't even know what's real."

Julie reached for his hand, but he pulled away. "I'm sorry. I love you. I always have. You're still my best friend."

Tony scoffed. "Yeah, well..."

Julie wiped her eyes. "It was during that week... after I left you... that I slept with him for the first time."

"Was he worth it?" Tony asked flatly. "Did you find your missing experience?"

"In the moment, it felt exciting. But afterwards, it was mechanical, empty. I've realized I built it up to be wonderful in my head, thinking it would fix something inside me. But it didn't. It couldn't."

"Then, he was aggressive. Selfish.  He didn't see me. Not really. Just a warm body to climb in out of. And I let him."

Tony stared at her, his voice hollow. "So, I guess you got your new experience,  after all."

Julie nodded, tears streaming down her face. "And it destroyed me."

******

Julie bent over the counter, her head cradled in both hands as quiet sobs wracked her body. Tears pooled on the polished surface, blurring her reflection like even the counter couldn't bear to look at her.

Tony stood frozen for a moment, watching her break down. The sight tugged at something deep within him... an ache that had nothing to do with betrayal. He couldn't just shut off thirty-five years of love, laughter, and shared life. But he could wall it off. For now.

But the anger and hurt coiled in his chest like barbed wire, tight and tearing. His jaw ached from clenching. "If I hold her now, I'm letting her off too easily," he thought bitterly, even as a part of him wanted to comfort her. Instead, he moved past her, his steps deliberate as he reached for a coffee mug. The sound of liquid pouring into the cup filled the silence between them.

Julie heard him move and, for one fragile second, thought he might hold her... tell her it would be okay. That they could start again.

But the sound of his footsteps retreating, deliberate, final, crushed that fragile hope.

She straightened, swiping at her eyes with trembling hands, and grabbed a napkin from the holder to wipe her face.

Tony stood by the sink, sipping his coffee, his expression unreadable. Julie's heart ached at the distance between them, so vast despite being just a few feet apart. She knew then... if reconciliation was possible at all... it would be long, grueling, and entirely uphill.

"And I have no right to expect him to take that road with me," she thought, clutching the crumpled napkin in her hand.

"If I want to fix this... I'll have to earn every step. Maybe even earn the right to hope again."

Chapter 05 | Woman in the Mirror

7 PM | Upstairs Bathroom

Julie rose from her chair. Her voice was steady... barely.

"I'll be right back."

She climbed the stairs slowly, each step weighted.

In the bathroom, she flipped on the light. The mirror didn't lie.

Puffy eyes. Red-streaked mascara carved down pale cheeks.

A face she barely recognized.

Her lips trembled as she leaned in, gripping the edges of the sink.

"God, you're such an asshole," she whispered to her reflection. "You actually told him you had sex with him, so he'd know your body still felt the same. Who says that?"

Her voice cracked.  Frustration bloomed hot beneath her skin. "How many times am I going to screw this up," she whispered, "before I finally become someone worth forgiving?"

She turned on the faucet. The rush of cool water grounded her.

She splashed her face, welcomed the sting.

It couldn't wash away the guilt. Or the damage.

Mascara streaked again, this time downward, into the drain.

She scrubbed until the skin under her eyes stung. Then grabbed a towel, wiped clean. Tossed it into the laundry bin without looking.

"I did my best today," she thought. "I told him the truth, how I led myself astray. It wasn't enough. But it's a start."

Her gaze drifted back to the mirror.

And for the first time in a long time, the woman staring back looked... different.

The hunger for outside validation, for meaningless attention, was gone.

What remained was quieter. Harder. Singular.

She no longer cared about the glances of strangers.

Only one thing burned now: the chance to rebuild what she broke.

Her chin lifted. Her eyes steadied.

The road ahead would be long. And brutal.

But she would take every step. Even if it broke her.

Chapter 06 | Pictures?

Tony heard her footsteps as he shut off the fresh pot of coffee. Their discussion so far had been sour enough. He filled two mugs as Julie returned and sat back down at the counter. He placed her cup in front of her and took a seat opposite her.

It had been a long time since he'd seen her without makeup. Recently, she'd been wearing so much, something he now understood better after her explanation. Even with her puffy, cried out eyes, she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever known.

Which made what came next feel crueler. And necessary.

Julie took a sip of her coffee, soaking in the warmth. She ran her finger along the rim of the mug, catching a stray drop, then took a few more seconds to gather herself.

"Tony," she began, her voice soft but firm, "I know there's no excuse for what I did. I'm sorry for the pain I've caused you. In some crazy way, I never meant to hurt you. I'm..."

"Sorry?" Tony cut her off, his voice cold. "So you've said. Repeatedly. But sorry doesn't cut it, Julie. You destroyed us... our life. How does saying sorry change anything?"

Julie looked down at her cup, gripping it tightly. "It doesn't," she admitted with a nod. "I'm not trying to change anything. I'm not running away from my actions. I made those choices... delusion or not... and I have to live with the consequences. But I need you to know how deeply sorry I am... about everything. I hurt you. I hurt Sara and Scott... I found a version of myself I didn't even know existed... a version that I hate."

She paused, her voice cracking. "I will apologize until the day I die."

Tony turned his head, unable to look at her. Her pleading eyes reminded him too much of the woman he'd loved for over 30 years... the woman who seemed to be fighting, to re-emerge. Sara was right. Julie was acting like herself again.

"I keep thinking," he said finally, "what if you'd just talked to me?"

Julie nodded, swallowing hard. "I wish I had. I..."

"I mean, you're sitting here saying all the right things. I almost believe that you are remorseful." Tony interrupted, "but I can't shake the feeling that you're just setting me up. You had your fling, got your thrill... and now it's time to rope the loyal idiot back in?"

"No! That's not what this is!" Julie protested.

"The hell it's not," Tony snapped, his voice rising. "You made all the decisions here. You decided to open yourself up to cheat. You decided that I wasn't exciting enough for you. You decided it was okay to ditch our vows. If you'd talked to me... hell, if you'd even asked... I could have maybe done something about it. Did you ever consider that maybe I needed more from you, too?"

Julie looked away.

"No, instead, you blindsided me with an open marriage request. A cheating request. What if I'd asked you for a pass to sleep with some 25-year-old? To feel a tighter body again?"

Julie flinched, tears welling in her eyes. "I would have hated it. I would have divorced you," she whispered.

"No shit," Tony said bitterly. "How's this any different?"

Julie's tears spilled over as she realized she had never truly considered his side. It didn't fit the narrative she had created for herself.

Tony stood abruptly, pacing the kitchen, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Instead of talking to me, you took advice from a bunch of sluts at work. And blew up our marriage, our home, our life. There's no going back to what we had. That life is dead."

"You decided everything in this story," Tony snapped. "You decided to screw around. You decided my loyalty wasn't enough."

He paced like a caged animal, fury radiating off him.

"How many times, Julie?"

Julie's voice was small. "Two times... and some messing around."

Tony's face twisted in disgust. "Some messing around?"

He grabbed the folder from the sink, yanked out a photo, and slapped it onto the counter.

"Like this?"

Julie recoiled as if the countertop had burned her. Her hands shook as she tried, and failed, to push the photo away.

The image stared up at her like an accusation... William's hand down her skirt, inside the club, her smile blurry and wild.

"So classy," Tony said, his voice shaking. "That's three."

Another photo hit the counter, sharper, uglier.

"And this. Four."

His voice dropped to a near whisper, thick with betrayal.

"Hope it was worth it, Jules."

Tony stormed out the back door, disgust curdling in his chest. He gripped the nearest railing, his head hanging low as the weight of the conversation settled over him.

Inside, Julie sat motionless, surrounded by the photos of her infidelity. She closed her eyes, her breathing uneven. Tony had proof of her worst moments... the ones she wanted to forget.

It felt like the final nail in the coffin of everything they'd built. The last blow she couldn't take back.

******

As evening approached, a chill ran through Tony's body. He rubbed his arms absently before making his way back into the kitchen. Julie sat motionless, still in the same spot. The photos were gone, shredded pieces scattered across the counter like confetti from a life exploded.

Julie's eyes lifted. "How did you...? Where did you..."

"... get them?" he interrupted, his tone cold. "An anonymous number sent them to me. The night before your big declaration on Saturday."

Julie's breath caught in her throat. "What? Who would..."

"It took me a while," Tony continued, cutting her off, "but I eventually found out. A woman named Meredith."

The color drained from Julie's face. "Meredith? Oh, no..."

Tony's lip curled into a bitter half-smile. "Yeah, it took me a minute to remember her. But I spoke to her at one or two of your work parties. Her text said I didn't deserve to be humiliated like this. And, oh... she also let me know she'd be available to grab a drink once I'm single."

Her head tilted back, a low moan escaping. "Oh my God," she whispered, as if the weight of it had just landed.

"Imagine that," Tony said, his voice rising. "Some random woman... someone I barely knew... cared more about me and our marriage than you."

Julie closed her eyes, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She remembered how Meredith had first approached her after a writing workshop at The Metropolitan Observer five years ago. How the younger woman's earnest admiration had felt both flattering and familiar... she'd seen herself in Meredith's hungry ambition, the way she seemed to devour every word of feedback, every small piece of professional wisdom.

They became close and Julie was proud when Meredith, now Merry, was given a column of her own. She had real potential to be a good writer.

Merry once joked they were like sisters until Julie chose her new squad over everything else.

Merry had tried to warn her. She'd pulled Julie aside for weeks before things spiraled, gently urging her to stop before she crossed a line she couldn't uncross. She'd told her that the office girls didn't have her best interests at heart, that they thrived on chaos and destruction. But Julie had dismissed her concerns, brushing her off with a sharp, "Mind your own business."

And now here they were.

Tony's voice broke through her thoughts, low and raw. "I loved you with everything I had, Jules. You were my high school crush. My angel in college. You gave me children, and I supported every one of your dreams. I wanted to love you forever. Don't you remember? We used to joke about having sex on the front porch at 80, how we'd still want each other, no matter what."

Julie opened her mouth, but no words came. Tears brimmed in her eyes as Tony's words washed over her, each one heavier than the last.

Her mind raced back to Meredith's warning, the moment she ignored it, and the countless decisions that had led her here... sitting across from the man she still loved, who now looked at her with a mixture of heartbreak and disgust.

Tears spilled over as her voice cracked. "I didn't listen. Merry... she warned me. I just... didn't want to hear it. I pushed her away, told her to mind her own business. I thought I knew better. I thought..." Her voice cracked, and she buried her face in her hands, sobbing softly.

Tony stood there, jaw clenched, fists tight at his sides. Her confession rang louder than any scream he'd imagined. He wanted to lash out, to shout at her, to demand why she hadn't stopped herself when she had the chance. But all he could do was stand there and feel the overwhelming ache of what they had lost.

Julie's sobs filled the silence.

7 PM | 

Julie's sobs faded into quiet sniffles as she gathered herself. Her body felt heavy, drained of every ounce of energy. Without a word to Tony, she pushed back her chair and rose unsteadily, making her way upstairs.

The bedroom door creaked closed, a sound that once meant comfort. Now it felt like a wall slamming shut between them.

He leaned forward, resting his hands on the counter, and let out a long breath. "God, what a shitty day," he muttered.

Shaking his head, he began tidying up the kitchen. He cleared the mugs and swept the torn scraps of photos into the trash. Mechanically, he prepared the Moka pot for the next morning, the routine giving him something... anything... to focus on.

"Not in my worst nightmares," he thought as he rinsed the mugs, "did I picture this."

For years, their love had been their anchor. Through parenting struggles, financial stresses, and everything life had thrown at them, it held strong. But now, the darkness surrounding their marriage felt insurmountable, choking out the powerful love they once shared.

Tony turned off the kitchen light and wandered into the living room. He sank onto the couch and grabbed the remote, flipping on the TV. The familiar sights and sounds of a Mets game were what he needed... something mindless to dull the ache in his chest.

But the screen showed highlights from that morning, Mets vs. Phillies in London. He cursed under his breath and tossed the remote aside. "Not like they're not making the playoffs this year anyway," letting the local sports channel run as background noise.

He leaned back and stared at the ceiling. The soft blue flicker of the TV cast shadows across the room. His thoughts drifted upstairs, where Julie had retreated behind the bedroom door.

"What's she doing up there?" he wondered, his stomach knotting at the thought. He pictured her sitting on the edge of the bed, lost in the same sea of regrets that consumed him. Or packing more of her stuff.

Tony rubbed his temples, exhaustion creeping in but refusing to take hold. The echoes of their conversation replayed in his mind, each word cutting a little deeper.

"How the hell did we get here?" he thought again, the question gnawing at him the way it had for weeks.

Chapter 07 | A Fragile Embrace

9 PM | 

Tony's eyes flicked open, jarred awake by the booming voice of a beer commercial. He groaned as he sat up, running a hand through his hair. He glanced at the cable box... 9:00 PM.

His gaze shifted to the dark kitchen. Julie still hadn't come down.

A weight settled in his chest as he climbed the stairs, each step heavier than the last. He stopped outside their bedroom door, hesitating for a moment. Pressing his ear to the wood, he heard nothing.

"Julie?" he called gently, tapping once on the door.

He pushed the door open, and the sight stopped him in his tracks. Julie lay curled up on their bed, clutching her knees, her breathing soft and steady. Asleep.

Tony leaned against the doorframe, watching her. Her face, tear-streaked and bare of makeup, reminded him of the woman he had fallen in love with decades ago. The woman he still loved, even if admitting it now, felt like a betrayal to himself.

"How long will this pain keep me chained to her?" he wondered. "Will it ever let me go?"

He stepped inside and moved toward the chair in the corner, but her voice stopped him.

"Please," she murmured, her voice fragile. "Lie with me."

"Jules..." he began, his tone hesitant.

She shifted slightly, her arms loosening from her knees. "I know I can't change the past," she said softly. "But I need you to hold me. Just for tonight."

Tony hesitated, his jaw tightening. "I shouldn't do this," Tony thought bitterly. "I owe her nothing. But the weight of her broken voice... and the gravity of thirty-five years."

"It's not going to change anything."

"I know," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I know we need to talk about the divorce. But... Can we do that in the morning? Tonight... I just need to feel you near me. Please."

She reached for him, trembling, unsure. A silent invitation filled with both fear and hope.

Tony looked back at the door, considering walking out. It would be easier, cleaner, to let distance keep him safe. But when his eyes met hers, wide, trembling, and glistening with unshed tears, something in him cracked.

Thirty-five years pressed down on him at once. First dances, delivery rooms, whispered jokes in the dark. The weight of history didn't excuse the pain. But it made walking away feel impossible.

He slipped off his shoes and approached the bed.

Julie held her breath, the silence stretching sharp and thin. Every second he hesitated felt like another crack in her battered heart. When he finally moved toward her, the relief was so overwhelming it nearly broke her.

Julie moved into him immediately, her arms wrapping tightly around him as though he might disappear. Her body shook with sobs, each one raw and wrenching. Tony held her close, his grip firm, steadying her against his chest.

Her body pressed against his, every curve familiar, every feeling foreign. The desire hit him hard, unexpected and uninvited. His hand twitched against her back, caught between holding and retreating. Muscle memory reached for her. His mind screamed betrayal. And yet, he didn't let go.

The bitter memory of her betrayal rose in his throat, threatening to poison even this one final mercy.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered between sobs, the words dissolving into broken breaths.

He didn't respond, just tightened his arms around her, his own emotions churning. The anger he carried threatened to rise, but he shoved it down, just for now.

Julie's cries slowly subsided, her breathing evening out. She snuggled closer, her face buried in his chest, and fell into a fitful sleep.

Tony stared at the ceiling, his arms wrapped around her. He wondered if this was weakness. Or love. Or just memory pretending to be both.

But as exhaustion pulled at him, he pushed the thoughts aside. The anger, the love, the pain... all of it could wait until tomorrow.

He closed his eyes, his hold on Julie never loosening, and let sleep overtake him.

But deep down, he knew tomorrow wouldn't make anything easier.

Chapter 08 | The Morning After

Monday June 10 2024 | 8 AM

Tony's eyes fluttered open to the soft morning sun filtering through the curtains. For the first time since Julie left, he slept in their bedroom, and felt so... refreshed.

The rich aroma of coffee and bacon wafted up the stairs... Julie was cooking breakfast, just like before. For a moment, the familiar scene let him imagine the last six months had never happened. But the weight in his chest told him otherwise.

He got up and discarded yesterday's clothes, taking a moment to freshen up in the bathroom. After washing his face and brushing his teeth, he pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of shorts. He wasn't working this week, so what did it matter?

For a second, he considered staying upstairs, staying in the clarity of that quiet moment alone. Facing her would mean facing the pull... and the past. But the smell of bacon, and something deeper, habit, maybe, drew him down.

The sounds of sizzling, clanking dishes and utensils filled the air as he made his way down the stairs. He stopped before entering the kitchen, his eyes drawn to Julie as she moved with graceful ease across the space that had been theirs for decades.

She had chosen the outfit carefully, an emerald green silk spaghetti-strap top with matching shorts, a loosely tied robe draped over her shoulders. It was soft, familiar, just flattering enough to spark a memory. Her hair remained in the loose ponytail from the night before, messier now from sleep. The silk, the ease. It all felt like a subtle echo of the mornings they used to share before everything unraveled.

She took his breath away, just as she always had. His chest tightened painfully. Desire flared, sudden and traitorous, as if his body hadn't gotten the memo that his heart was shattered. He clenched his jaw, hating himself for still wanting her, for still seeing the woman he loved in the ruins she left behind.

Julie caught sight of him by the stairs and froze for a moment. The hunger in his gaze was unmistakable, and her stomach flipped.

She smiled softly as he adjusted his stance, a memory flashing through her mind of how quickly their playful mornings had turned into heated embraces.

She took a half step toward him, instinctively reaching, but stopped herself as he moved past her, sitting at the counter. The moment collapsed between them, heavy and silent.

Tony felt it, the almost-touch, the ghost of her warmth, linger like a static charge. He swallowed it down, retreating into the safety of silence.

Her smile faltered momentarily as she turned to the stove, overcome by the flood of memories... laughter, stolen kisses, and spontaneous passion... that the kitchen evoked. Everything she'd thrown away.

"Good morning, Jules."

The silk of her robe whispered against her skin as she reached for the coffee cups... their coffee cups, the ones they'd bought together in Mexico. Even the smallest motions felt heavy with memory.

Julie poured the coffee and turned with a smile, offering his cup. Her hand trembled just enough to ripple the surface. "Good morning," she said, her voice soft but steady.

"I thought we could use something hearty. We skipped dinner last night. How did you sleep?"

Tony gave her a brief nod. She always thought of her family first. "Actually, I slept great. First time in a while."

She smiled at the comment, "Me too. I guess we both really needed comforting. Thank you for doing that. It meant a lot to me."

He sipped the coffee, savoring its richness. "You look beautiful this morning, amazing actually," he said quietly. He hadn't meant to say it aloud. But the truth had slipped out before he could catch it.

"Thank you," she replied, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "I just... I needed to be in something comfortable. I needed to feel like me again. Like I was really home..."

But I also needed to feel... like the version of me he used to love, she thought.

"Do you mind if we finish our talk after breakfast?" she asked, her tone soft but tinged with hesitation. Her fingers brushed the edge of the plate, lingering there for a moment before she set it down in front of him. "There's still... so much I need to say."

He met her gaze and nodded with a warm smile. "Yeah, that's a good idea."

She brought over two plates filled with fried eggs, crispy bacon, and golden toast. Taking a seat opposite him, they ate. Conversation flowed more easily than it had in months, touching on light topics and shared memories.

Julie leaned forward, genuine interest shining in her eyes. "Tell me more about Olivia. She seems wonderful."

Tony nodded. "She is. Olivia's a copywriter at the agency that Sara used to work at, but passionate about all forms of writing. Still figuring herself out, I think. But she's smart, driven, and she makes Scott happy."

"I'm glad," Julie breathed. "He deserves someone special. And another writer in the family... that's exciting. I'd love the chance to get to know her properly someday."

"I think she'd like that as well..." said Tony.

"Maybe we could all get together sometime... have a family dinner," she said, then quickly added, "Not right away, of course. Just... someday, if that ever felt okay."

"Perhaps," Tony replied cautiously, unsure of making plans given their uncertain future.

They continued eating in comfortable silence. For a brief moment, the weight lifted, replaced by something that felt like the life they used to know. Yet, beneath the surface, both knew there was much left unresolved.

Chapter 09 | Goodbye, Not Yet

10 AM |

After breakfast, they worked together to clean the kitchen, their movements synchronized in an unspoken rhythm.

Their bodies brushed now and then as they moved around the kitchen, accidental nudges, fleeting touches. Each one arousing and heartbreaking at the same time.

"Do you want to finish the conversation on the deck?" Tony asked.

"Living room, if you don't mind... More comfortable."

"Ok, I'll bring the coffee."

They made their way into the living room, and Tony placed the mugs on the table before sitting on the couch. Julie gave him a look, half amused, half automatic, before grabbing two coasters and slipping them under the mugs. Tony laughed at her quirks in action. It was these normal everyday moments that made him wonder if Sara was right about him rushing towards divorce.

Julie settled on the far end, then turned toward Tony, pulling her legs in and hugging them close.

Tony turned his body in as well and faced his wife. These were the mornings that he envisioned when the kids left the house. A chance to restart their life and be Tony and Julie... once again.

"There's no great way to start this, so have you read the paperwork?"

"Yes, I looked through it and made my decision," she said.

"Julie, it's going through even if you say no. Fighting it will just waste resources."

"That's not what I mean... I won't fight it. I wronged you and you have the right to move forward anyway that you need to."

"Jules..."

"Please... just listen." She said with a raised hand. "This is already hard enough. I'm going to sign the papers as they are. No changes. You have always been more than fair to me. I trust you, as I should have trusted you all along."

"You should really have a lawyer look it over. I wasn't exactly thinking clearly when I had it drafted."

"Then that's what I deserve. If you have questions, just let me know. I'll answer them truthfully, even though I come out looking like the asshole."

Her eyes closed, tears ran down her cheeks. With a quivering voice, she continued, "I meant what I said. You are the greatest thing that ever happened to me. I forgot myself and destroyed it all. I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you and the kids."

"No changes, quick divorce?" Tony muttered. "You really can't wait to get rid of me, huh?"

"NO!... No. That's not it at all. I don't want a divorce. I want you! I made a series of unbelievably bad decisions. The worst ever. But I do not want a divorce. I want to fight and gain your forgiveness. Maybe not today, but someday... I don't expect you to forget. But we can find a new way forward, build something better."

Julie wiped her eyes and reached for him, but he pulled away. Her shoulders sagged as he pulled away, the gesture confirming what her heart already feared.

"I want to fight for us," she said, her voice breaking. "I want to wrap my arms around you, hold you, make love to you, make you feel how much I love you. But I know in your mind... it's too late. Fighting would just drag out the pain... for both of us. So, I'll give you the divorce, Tony. I'll give you the space you need to heal, even if it means losing you forever."

Tony looked at her, his chest tightening at her words. Part of him wanted to believe her, to let her fight for them. But the images of her betrayal... her lies, the emptiness in her eyes when she first made that damned request... flashed in his mind. He couldn't do it. Not yet. Maybe never.

She pulled her legs back in, wrapping them in a hug. "I wish we could just go back."

"To what? With you being bored with me and our marriage?... You needing more?"

"... no..." she said in a whisper "to me realizing how much I've loved you for over 30 years."

"We can't... we can't..." said Tony.

"No.... we can't..."

12 PM |

"So... how long are you planning to stay with Cassie?"

"I don't know... for a few more weeks. I'll need to find an apartment soon, probably closer to Sara. I don't think Brooklyn's right for me. You keep the house. My mistakes shouldn't cost you your home."

"Did you really want an open marriage?"

"No. I was guilty... and trying to rewrite the truth so I wouldn't have to face what I'd done. Especially to you."

Tony nodded. "Well, I've also come to some decisions. I can't stay here," Tony said, his voice low. "This house is full of good memories... but everything that's happened since has poisoned them. I need to get away, Jules. I need to clear my head and figure out how to move forward. Alone."

"I've been thinking, and if you want, I'm offering you the house... to move back here..."

Julie wiped her eyes and looked up in surprise. Her breath caught. "Did he just say... Was this... an invitation? A sign that he might want her to come home for real?"

Tony saw the hope flicker across her face, and hated himself for snuffing it out.

"I'm offering you the house," he repeated quietly, "because you deserve a place to rebuild. Not because we're rebuilding together."

"I'm going to move up to the lake house and try to work through things while the divorce moves forward. I hope time alone can give me the space that I need."

Julie's head dropped onto her knees as her chest tightened painfully. "I thought... I thought he was going to offer me a way back." But his words weren't a lifeline... they were a goodbye wrapped in mercy.

And she felt herself drowning, anyway.

With their new housing arrangements set, Tony drove Julie to the hotel to pick up her car. The drive was quiet, the air between them heavy with unspoken words. The hum of the engine filled the silence. Tony's fingers clenched the steering wheel, knuckles paling with the effort.

Julie stared out the window, her thoughts swirling. She still couldn't believe how much damage she'd caused. But a fragile thread of hope, of rebuilding something, anything, kept her from coming apart.

When they arrived at the hotel, Julie hesitated before getting out of the car. She turned to Tony, her fingers brushing the door handle. "Thank you for driving me," she said softly, her eyes searching his.

Tony nodded, his gaze fixed on the dashboard. "It's no problem."

Julie stepped out and lingered by the door, her body angled back, waiting, hoping for one more word. But when the silence stretched too long, she closed the door gently and walked toward her car.

As she unlocked it, Tony finally spoke, his voice low but steady. "Are you coming back tonight?"

"No," Julie said, turning to face him. "I'll stay at Cassie's tonight, pack my things. I'll head back home in the morning."

Tony nodded again, jaw tight, lips pressed into that familiar unreadable line. "I'll use the next couple of days to pack up what I need for the lake house... clothes, work stuff, the basics."

Julie gave a small, bittersweet smile. "Ok."

For a moment, it felt like the early days again, when words were new and fragile, before the comfort of marriage turned silence into intimacy.

"Drive safe, Jules," Tony said finally.

Julie's heart clenched at the familiar nickname. "You too," she replied softly before climbing into her car.

Tony watched her car shrink into the distance, swallowed by traffic and time. Relief and regret warred inside him, twin anchors pulling him in opposite directions, leaving him adrift.

Chapter 10 | One More Day

Tuesday June 10 2024 | 12 PM | Westchester Home

Julie walked into the house, her small suitcase rolling behind her. She froze. Two large suitcases by the front door... Tony's. The sight punched the air from her lungs. Sharp. Final. He was really leaving.

She took her time walking through the house before going up the stairs. Julie stood at the bedroom threshold, her hand frozen on the knob as though the wood itself might burn her. The room before her was more than just space... it was a museum of their love story, each corner holding memories she'd carelessly discarded.

Her eyes wandered around the room, taking in the bed they'd shared for decades, the dresser still holding some of her things, and the faint scent of Tony's cologne lingering in the air. This room had been their sanctuary, where they'd celebrated victories, mourned losses, and survived storms no one else ever saw.

Her gaze drifted to the large photo above the bed... her and Tony on their wedding day. She smiled sadly at their younger selves, so full of hope and ambition. Best friends who became partners in everything. "And I destroyed it," she thought, her throat tightening as guilt folded her in half.

On the nightstand sat Tony's old glasses, the ones he always lost, the ones she always found.

Tony was right... She couldn't sleep in this room either. The memories would keep her tied to the past and crush any chance of moving forward. She closed the door softly behind her and turned toward Sara's old room.

Now converted into a guest room, it felt foreign. Julie set her suitcase on the bed and began unpacking. Her hands moved on autopilot, folding, smoothing, stacking, while her chest clenched tighter with every drawer she filled.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs made her pause. She heard Tony knock gently on the closed bedroom door.

"Julie? Can I come in?"

"In here... Sara's room."

The door creaked open, and Tony stepped inside. He paused at the door, taking her in, perched on the edge of the bed, eyes glassy, face drawn like she hadn't slept in days.

"I understand now," Julie said quietly. "I can't sleep in that room either."

Julie rose slowly, her movements hesitant and raw, and crossed the few steps that felt like miles. Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around him, holding on as though her life depended on it.

She buried her face in his shoulder, breathing in the faint smell of detergent and aftershave, scents that had once meant home. Tony inhaled slowly, his chest tightening with the ache of memories too big to hold.

A thousand memories flashed unbidden, Julie laughing at their wedding, Julie holding Sara for the first time, Julie sneaking a kiss in the hallway of their first apartment.

How could something so broken still feel like home?

He placed his arms loosely around her, giving her... giving them... just this.

For a few moments, they stood there, the silence heavy with all the things they couldn't say. Julie's tears wet his shoulder, but she didn't let go, and neither did he. For just one more day, they held on to the memory of what they had been.

Chapter 11 | A Daughter's Boundaries

Wednesday, June 13, 2024 | 4 PM | Sara & Jon's Apartment

The smell of takeout chicken tikka filled the kitchen as Julie leaned against the counter, her sleeves pushed up and hair tied back. Across the room, Sara moved with practiced ease, plating the naan on a cutting board and grabbing drinks from the fridge.

"This reminds me of when I was a teenager," Sara said, smiling faintly. "You'd let me order Indian food and stay up watching romance movies while Dad worked late."

Julie nodded, watching her daughter closely. "I remember. You always picked the sappiest Hallmark movies. You wanted every couple to fall in love on Christmas Eve."

Sara smirked. "Still do."

They carried the food to the coffee table and sank onto the couch. Julie reached for the remote while Sara queued up one of her favorites, a new Hallmark original with predictably charming leads and snow falling in every scene. For a little while, they ate quietly, sharing knowing glances at cheesy lines and mistimed kisses.

Afterward, they took their mugs of tea to the small balcony, the night breeze warm but pleasant.

Julie let her fingers run along the rim of her mug, hesitant. "Thank you for letting me stay here... for not shutting me out completely."

Sara stared out over the street. "It's complicated."

"I know."

"I'm working on it," Sara said. "I'm working on not seeing... that version of you. All the time."

Julie nodded slowly. "I deserve that. I just... I wanted to say I'm sorry."

Sara turned to look at her mother. "For which part?"

Julie looked down at the mug. "For all of it. For calling you. For dragging you into my confusion. For saying things that made you doubt Jon."

Sara smiled faintly. "Jon told me I don't have a bony ass, by the way."

Julie blinked. "What?"

Sara's smirk widened. "Back when you said I shouldn't compare Jon to Dad. You said Dad was more masculine, or something ridiculous like that. I cried over that for two days, thinking I wasn't sexy enough for him. But Jon... he grabbed me by the ass and pulled me in for a hug. Looked me dead in the eye and said, I love your amazing ass."

Julie let out a startled laugh, equal parts delight and horror.

"I wasn't in my right mind when I said that," she said quietly. "Both men are incredible. And we really got lucky to have them in our life."

Sara's smile faded into something softer. "Yeah. We did."

The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable, just full. Full of things that didn't need to be said. Not yet.

"Let's get to bed," Sara said, standing and stretching. "You're on the couch. And don't you dare stay up late folding things again?"

"I'll try," Julie said, rising.

Sara looked at her mother for a long moment. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

Thursday, June 13, 2024 | 2 AM

Julie adjusted the blanket around her shoulders, the dim light from the kitchen casting long shadows across the quiet living room. She didn't expect to be awake, but sleep hadn't come easily.

She heard soft footsteps and looked up as Sara entered, arms crossed.

"Can't sleep?" Julie asked, voice tentative.

Sara leaned against the counter, studying her mother for a long moment before speaking. "No. But I figured, since we're both awake, we should talk."

Julie's stomach twisted. She knew what was coming.

Sara exhaled, shaking her head. "I've gone over this conversation a hundred times in my head. What I'd say, how I'd say it. And I realized... I don't need an apology."

Julie's breath hitched. "You don't?"

"No." Sara's voice was steady. "Because an apology wouldn't change anything. What I need is for you to understand what you did... it wasn't just about you and Dad. You broke something between us, too."

Julie swallowed hard. "Sara, I never meant to..."

Sara held up a hand, cutting her off. "I know. You never meant to hurt anyone. You never meant for it to go that far. You never meant to drag me into it. But you did."

Julie opened her mouth.

"Find yourself," Sara finished bitterly. "Yeah. I know. But the thing is, Mom... you had a choice. And when you started calling me, asking me all those questions about marriage, about feminism, about monogamy... you made me part of that choice."

Julie's throat felt dry.

Sara's gaze didn't waver. "You tested the waters with me first, didn't you? Before you ever kissed him. Before you ever slept with him. Were you looking for my permission? And when I didn't give it to you, you did it anyway."

Julie clenched the blanket tighter around her shoulders. "I was confused."

Sara's jaw tightened. "No. You were selfish. You used me. You played me like I was just another story you were writing."

The silence between them was deafening.

Julie looked away. "I know I hurt you."

Sara exhaled, nodding. "Yeah. You did." She ran a hand through her hair, exhaling. "But I'm done being angry about it."

Julie's gaze snapped back to hers. "You are?"

"Yeah." Sara met her mother's eyes, and this time, there was no hesitation. "Because I've finally figured out that I don't need to be anything like you."

Julie flinched.

Sara sighed. "I'll always love you, Mom. But I don't trust you. Not yet. Maybe not for a while. And you're going to have to live with that."

Julie swallowed the lump in her throat.

Sara shifted toward the hallway, but hesitated. "You want to rebuild this family?"

"Start with yourself."

"And maybe... if you do, you'll find the door open. But don't expect it to stay unlocked forever."

And with that, Sara turned and walked away, leaving Julie alone in the quiet.

Julie sank deeper into the couch, clutching her mug like a lifeline. Her daughter's footsteps faded down the hallway, but the silence left in their wake thundered through her chest.

For the first time since moving back home, Julie truly felt what she had lost.

Chapter 12 | Alone Again, Or

Friday, June 14, 2024 | 10 AM | Westchester Home

The last couple of days had been hard. They hadn't shared a bed since the first night, but it was clear Julie wanted more before he left.

They gave each other space during the day, Tony packing his last things while Julie tried to settle into her new reality. They still shared their mealtimes, spoke about their situation, or the next steps.

Breakfasts, however, were especially tense. Julie wore next to nothing to bed, and in the mornings, she seemed almost purposeful in parading around in her silk camisoles and shorts.  

The light touches, nudges, and accidental brushes of her soft body against him were impossible to ignore. Tony acknowledged to himself that he missed her body and stopped pretending he wasn't affected. How could he? She was still his wife, and he was still attracted to her. But he refused to act on those feelings and give her false hope, and Julie didn't push further.

He planned to leave after lunch. Their lake house was only about an hour northwest, close enough for a quick weekend trip back, but far enough to feel like another world.

Julie spent the morning on the deck, avoiding the sight of Tony packing the car. Her eyes stayed fixed on the yard, her mind circling back to the day she walked out.

The disrespect she'd thrown at him. The cruel way she'd walked out, believing herself to be superior. How much has changed since then... all because of her? It's all her fault.

"If only I could go back and slap that silly bitch awake," she thought bitterly.

The creak of the door broke her reverie. Tony stepped out onto the deck.

"Jules, I'm leaving."

Julie slowly rose from her chair. She wore a loose summer dress that fell above her knees; the fabric swaying lightly in the breeze. Tony couldn't help but notice how her breasts moved freely beneath the fabric. Those familiar stirrings flared again, a cruel reminder of how much he still wanted her.

She crossed the deck and wrapped her arms around him. The warmth of her body pressed against his, soft and inviting. He couldn't deny how good it felt.

"Take care of yourself," she whispered, gripping him.

"You too, Jules," he replied, trying to pull away.

But she didn't let go.

"Jules," he said, his voice firm, "please."

"No... please listen," she begged, looking up at him, her eyes brimming with tears. "This week has been so amazing. Why can't we try? Come to therapy with me... let's work on us. Let's fix this."

Tony sighed, his face hardening. "I can't, Jules. I didn't break us. The way you did things... it's too raw."

Julie's vision blurred as her tears spilled over. "I know. I hate myself for what I did to you. I do. Then... before you go... please. I'm not wearing anything underneath. Just for one last moment, let me be yours."

Tony stepped back, his brow furrowing. "What's that going to help?"

"I want you. I need to know that the last man I was intimate with was the man I love."

Her words hung in the air, but the effect wasn't what she intended. Tony's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as bitterness seeped into his expression.

"Don't worry. You'll have no trouble finding another new experience to fill that hole," he said bitterly.

"No!" Julie cried, her voice breaking. "There won't be anyone else. I'm out of the fog, Tony. I see clearly now, and I want you. I'm yours."

"Please," she whispered again, her hand sliding over the growing bulge in his pants. "I know you still love me. I know you still want me."

"Please."

Tony closed his eyes, her words and touch pushing him to the edge. His stomach twisted as desire warred with the anger simmering just below the surface. The videos flashed in his vision... her back up against the wall at the club, her body in the car. The betrayal burned through him, dousing whatever impulse he had to give in.

For a moment, muscle memory screamed at him to give in, to take the comfort she offered. But then the images came rushing back: her body crushed against another man, her laughter echoing from a time he could never unhear.

Revulsion surged through him. Not at her body, never that, but at the lie she had made it carry.

He stepped out of her arms, his voice quiet but firm. "I can't, Jules. I can't... Take care of yourself."

She reached for him, but he turned, walking back into the house without another word.  

He grabbed his last bag and made his way to the car, his chest aching as he closed the trunk and started the engine.

Julie sank into the deck chair, head in her hands, her sobs quiet but relentless.

The tree at the back of the yard stood utterly still, its branches motionless despite the breeze, as if listening. Around her, the garden hushed, the air thick with a silence that wasn't empty, but waiting. Mourning. Holding her sorrow in the roots beneath the soil.

This made the weight of her choices press down harder than ever. She had no one to blame but herself, and now she would carry the consequences alone.

Chapter 13 | Separated

Saturday, September 7, 2024 | 10 AM

The humid weight of August had passed, replaced by crisp September mornings and cooler nights. Summer's frenzy faded into a quieter kind of ache.

Tony sipped his coffee as he sat in the living room of their lakeside home, gazing out at the hints of yellow, orange, and red that painted the trees around the lake. The early signs of fall were always his favorite, a quiet reminder that even the most vibrant things eventually change.

The house held a special magic for Tony. It had been his sanctuary as a child, a place of endless wonder where summers stretched on forever.

When he and Julie started dating, it became their private retreat, a hideaway where they dreamed about the future.

After Sara and Scott were born, it evolved into a hub for family vacations and countless memories... laughter echoing off the water, the smell of barbecues, and the sound of little feet racing across the deck.

When his grandfather passed away in the '90s and left him the house, Tony and Julie had modernized it. The crown jewel of their renovations was the folding glass doors they installed along the back wall of the living room. The doors opened to reveal an unobstructed view of the deck and the serene lake beyond. It was here, in this room, that Tony now spent most of his days... thinking, remembering, and trying to make sense of it all.

Since leaving Julie at the family home, summer had passed in a blur.

Vacationers flocked to the lake, their laughter and campfires a constant backdrop. Now, as the air turned crisp and school buses began their routes again, Tony stared down the next chapter of his life. Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas loomed ahead, a reminder of the traditions and family moments he had once taken for granted.

He wasn't completely alone. Sara, Scott, and their partners visited and spent a few days with him over the summer, bringing some light back into the house. The visits were brief but grounding. They gave him something to look forward to, even if the silence felt heavier when they left.

He'd even gotten back into video games. Scott left a gaming system behind, and Tony found himself drawn to a space exploration game, one where you could do anything, be anyone. Travel galaxies, build homes, talk to aliens.

Escape.

What started as a way to kill time slowly became a ritual, one that offered a surprising sense of purpose. He found himself engrossed in building elaborate bases on faraway planets, carefully designing every detail. It was relaxing, almost meditative, and the hours slipped away without him noticing.

He created spaces that felt like home... safe harbors in an infinite void. Each base he constructed was another attempt to rebuild what he'd lost, pixel by pixel, choice by choice.

As he worked on his virtual creations, Tony was astounded by the creativity he still had in him.

He hadn't felt this spark in decades. Maybe longer. Somewhere along the way, between college and starting his career, he'd shelved this part of himself, trading it for spreadsheets and strategy meetings. He'd chosen the business track, thinking it was a practical and stable path towards providing for a family.

But now, as he sat on his couch navigating alien landscapes, he wondered how much of himself he'd left behind along the way.

Even as he explored new worlds, some things from the old one refused to let him go.

And then there were the casseroles.

He hadn't seen Julie in three months, not since that tense goodbye. But every couple of weeks, a perfectly baked lasagna or eggplant parmigiana would appear on his porch. No note, no explanation, just a quiet offering. He didn't need to ask who they were from.

Tony set his coffee mug down on the table beside him and leaned back in the chair, his eyes fixed on the lake. The question that had been haunting him for months lingered at the edge of his mind. "What now?"

He shifted on the couch and picked up the well-worn copy of The Age of AI. It had become a regular read, especially as generative AI reshaped everything around him. As the CRO of a mid size tech startup, he prided himself on staying in tune with industry trends. AI wasn't just a buzzword anymore... it was reshaping everything, from programming and engineering to sales and marketing. Being strategic meant understanding where the industry was heading, and this book gave him something new to consider.

Settling into the cushions, Tony opened the book, only to have something slip out and land softly in his lap. He glanced down, his breath catching for a moment before he laughed quietly, exhaling deeply.

It was the burnt recipe card.

Julie's Nonna's lasagna recipe, handwritten in elegant cursive, now smudged and slightly singed around the edges. Memories flooded back... early in their marriage, when Julie was working long hours at the newspaper, determined to make a name for herself. Tony had wanted to do something special for her, to show his support and let her know how proud he was. Cooking wasn't exactly his forte back then, but he decided to tackle her Nonna's lasagna.

The result? A charred recipe card, a minor kitchen fire, and Julie laughing so hard she had tears streaming down her face. She'd teased him endlessly about it over the years, often recounting the story at family dinners. But she also kept the card, saying it reminded her of how much he cared.

To him, it wasn't just a recipe... it was a symbol of their ability to laugh through their mistakes, to find joy even in their challenges. That sense of humor, that resilience, had been a cornerstone of their marriage.

He turned the card over in his hand, ran his thumb along the charred edge, then gently placed it on the table beside his book. It sat there, silent and accusing. Not just a recipe. A question.

What happens to the cornerstones of a marriage when the foundation has already crumbled?

Chapter 14 | Marcus

Sunday, September 8, 2024 | 4 PM

Tony stepped out onto the deck with a platter of steak and vegetables, the cool September air brushing against his skin.

He'd spent the morning shopping in town, picking up food for the week, and decided that grilled steak with potatoes and onions felt perfect for a quiet Sunday.

Except it wasn't supposed to be a quiet Sunday. Today was Julie's birthday.

Last year he woke her up with his enthusiastic tongue, then made her favorite breakfast, lemon iced blueberry scones with mixed fruit jam. They spent the rest of the day together talking, cuddling and loving between house chores. While she seemed distant, she perked up when they dressed up and went out for dinner later that evening. He didn't know at the time that she was already feeling... old and unsatisfied.

She either hid it well, or he missed all the clues.

Setting the platter on the small table by the grill, he turned on the propane tank and let it heat. He chuckled to himself, imagining his grandfather shaking his head at the sight. "Charcoal or nothing," the old man used to say. But today, Tony didn't have the energy for the chimney starter ritual.

After greasing the grates, he placed the seasoned potatoes and onions into the hexagonal vegetable baskets he'd bought a couple of years ago. The baskets made grilling smaller cuts of food a breeze, no flipping disasters, no mess.

As the vegetables cooked, he grabbed a beer from the cooler and sat down in a patio chair, letting the sizzle of the grill and the quiet rustle of the trees fill the silence.

"Smells amazing! Slumming it at the lake instead of your big fancy house?"

Tony looked up, grinning. That voice could only belong to Marcus, his neighbor of almost twenty years. He stood and turned to see the man strolling across the yard, hands in his jacket pockets.

"Well, look who's back just in time for winter," Tony said, shaking his head.

"Anything to avoid the summer visitors," Marcus said with exaggerated air quotes. "I love it here, but I like my quiet."

Tony laughed, giving Marcus a warm embrace before handing him a beer. Marcus had been renting out his home to tourists every summer for as long as Tony could remember, disappearing to avoid the chaos.

"How are Caley and Quinn?" Tony asked, as Marcus settled into a chair.

"Good," Marcus replied. "Spent a few weeks with them and their families. Played grandpa for a while. Even visited my ex for a day." He made a face. "I was ready to come home."

Tony chuckled and reached into the fridge, pulling out another steak for his friend. "I assume you're staying?"

"Absolutely," Marcus said, taking a sip of his beer as Tony placed an additional steak on the grill. The satisfying sizzle filled the air, mixing with the smell of seared meat and grilled vegetables.

They sat in companionable silence for a moment until Marcus spoke. "So, taking a weekend away from work or family?"

Tony smiled faintly. "Took a leave. Been here for three months. Julie and I... we're divorcing."

Marcus's face fell. "Aw, Tony. I'm so sorry to hear that. Any chance of it not happening? There's already too much sadness in the world."

Tony's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "That's what I'm trying to figure out. Let's eat first, and then we'll talk."

Marcus raised his beer in a silent toast. "Fair enough."

Tony brought the steaks and vegetables to the table, the smell of charred perfection making the air feel a little lighter.

Tony returned to the deck with two beers, having left the dirty dishes in the sink to deal with later. Marcus accepted the beer with a grin.

"So... who'd you cheat with?" Marcus teased, raising a brow.

Tony snorted. "You got the cheating part right, just the wrong person."

Marcus's grin faded as he caught the tightness in Tony's face. He set the beer down more carefully this time, the weight of conversation settling between them. Tony took a sip and began recounting the last eight months. Marcus listened without interrupting, eyebrows lifting at "modern feminism." His expression turned somber by the time Tony finished.

"Wow," Marcus finally said, shaking his head. "I gotta say, I would've thought she finally got fed up with you cheating on her with your job. But this? It's just... out of character for the Julie I've known all these years."

"C'mon," Tony replied, "I wasn't that bad. I made time for the kids and Julie."

"I know how you two were when you came to the lake house. It's just... surprising. I'm really sorry, man."

"Yeah, well, that's my problem," Tony admitted. "I'm pissed at what she did, but I miss her. I miss what we had. I just can't see us getting back together... without the trust."

"Right," Marcus said, nodding. "Trust is everything. When Sherry and I tried to patch things up, trust, or the lack of it, killed us. That, and respect. Even the sex was different."

"How'd you even get to the point of trying to rebuild?" Tony asked.

Marcus took a slow drink before answering. "Well, my situation was different. I cheated. In her misplaced anger, Sherry went for revenge. I pushed her into something she never would've done... and I think it broke something in her. Maybe for good." 

He stared at the ground, a flicker of regret in his eyes. "At least you don't want to see Julie suffer."

Tony let out a short laugh. "Not now, but I wanted to kill her the first couple of weeks."

Marcus furrowed his brow. "When I practiced law, I saw it all the time. Husbands and wives wanting their exes to suffer. Thought it would make them feel better. Never worked, though. Just made things uglier. That kind of revenge fixes nothing, it just keeps you stuck in the pain."

Tony nodded slowly. "Yeah, I thought about going after the guy. Help spread out some consequences... But in the end, it wasn't about him. She put herself there."

"And the jail time wouldn't be worth it. It wouldn't change anything. It still happened." Marcus paused. "How's she taking it?"

Tony sighed. "Hard. Either she's become an Oscar-winning actress, or she's genuinely remorseful. She's unbearably apologetic, crying all the time. She says she's out of the fog."

"That's rare," Marcus said thoughtfully. "That fog? I've seen it last years, people refusing to face what they've done and what they've lost. Consequences are a bitch."

"She's accepting all of them, and the divorce, without a fight. But I still have issues with trust. How do I move past it? How do I take her back without feeling like I'm saying what she did was okay? It feels... weak."

Marcus shook his head. "Forgiveness isn't weakness. It's harder than revenge. It's powerful, Tony. Shows you can look past mistakes, even big ones. Sherry and I? We didn't figure that out. We reacted, hurt for hurt, and tore each other apart. Sometimes I wonder if we'd just stopped, taken a breath, had a real talk... maybe things would've turned out different."

Marcus's words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of experience. Tony studied his face, seeing the ghost of old regrets in the lines around his eyes.

"Sometimes," Marcus said softly, "the hardest person to forgive isn't the one who hurt you... it's yourself, for still loving them."

He stood, draining the last of his beer. "I've taken enough of your time. How much longer are you staying?"

"Foreseeable future," Tony replied.

Marcus clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Dinner at my place tomorrow. Look, betrayal sucks, no doubt. But sometimes it's a wake-up call. Forces you to grow, to change. Whether you rebuild with Julie or move forward on your own, just don't stay stuck."

Tony watched him disappear down the path, his friend's words echoing louder than the silence that followed.

Later That Evening

As darkness settled over the lake, the vibrant fall colors transformed into muted shades of blue and purple. Feeling a chill, Tony folded the glass doors shut, enclosing the living room in silence.

He brewed a fresh pot of coffee, pulled a blanket over his legs, and settled onto the couch with the TV humming in the background.

"Could I forgive her? Is love enough when trust is broken?" The questions had been gnawing at him for months.

Thirty-four years of love, laughter, family, stacked against six months of silence, betrayal, and doubt.

The numbers should have made the answer obvious.

But resentment didn't listen to math.

"Move forward by rebuilding with Julie, or move forward by letting her go entirely."

The choice loomed like fog on the lake, heavy, unmoving, and slowly creeping closer.

He just didn't know which side of it she was on anymore.

Or where he stood himself.

Chapter 15 | Reframe the Silence

Thursday, September 12, 2024 | 1 PM

Tony returned to old passions, photography, gaming, the simple pleasure of watching a sunset over water.

These weren't just distractions from pain.

They were pieces of himself he'd packed away in service of being a husband, father, provider.

Now, in solitude, he was learning to unpack them again.

He set a bowl of mixed nuts and a steaming cup of green tea on the living room table before settling onto the couch.

The planet where he'd built his first base was breathtaking. The island was blanketed in flowing red grass dotted with trees in shades of crimson and brown. A few species of wandering animals roamed freely under the shadow of a towering mountain spire that overlooked a turquoise lake.

The blue skies were a stunning contrast, especially at sunset, and the daily acid storm was a small price to pay for the view.

That morning, he'd added to the main base compound by building an underwater outpost, complete with a second landing pad for his ship. A short teleport station now connected the mountain and beachfront locations, allowing for seamless movement between them.

He marveled at the game's freedom... exploring deep space, swimming in exotic seas, and capturing the beauty of distant planets. But his favorite missions had become the photography tasks. The challenge of photographing new flora, ancient buildings, and alien creatures gave him a renewed sense of purpose.

Picking up the controller, he adjusted the camera's magnification and angle, fine-tuning the shot. His current objective was to capture an ancient building under a setting red sun. He had only a brief window to get the perfect worm's-eye view before the sun dipped below the horizon.

He waited for the golden flare of sunlight to crown the structure, lining up the shot. With a quiet satisfaction, he pressed the button, the resulting image capturing the serene beauty of the moment. He uploaded the shot to the game server, then directed his ship back to base. His underwater outpost was next on the photography list.

Three months ago, the silence of the lake house had pressed down on him, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the choices he'd been forced to make. It had been a lonely time, but now, looking back, he realized it had been necessary.

Marcus had been right... it wasn't about staying angry. It was about staying open. Moving forward wasn't just about letting go of Julie... it meant rethinking his relationships with his family, his friends, and even his role as CRO.

Maybe Julie had a point about how they'd become too comfortable, too complacent. Their lives had been on autopilot, and while they'd worked so hard to build that lifestyle, they'd become trapped by it.

It still shouldn't have led to her betrayal of their vows. Tony wasn't ready to excuse it. But he could admit that the change was overdue. For himself. For his future.

Tony took a sip of his tea and leaned back, gazing out at the lake through the folding glass doors. The view looked different now, not because the lake had changed, but because he had. The fiery autumn colors mirrored the vivid hues of his digital planet, a quiet reminder that even the most beautiful things must change.

The thought lingered, sparking something within him. Inspired, he reached for his phone, stepped outside, and framed the scene through the lens, ready to capture the fleeting moment.

Julie's absence still lingered, but it no longer poisoned the air. It just... existed.

The silence wasn't empty anymore. It was waiting for whatever came next.

Chapter 16 | Beautiful Things

Sunday September 8 2024 | 11 AM | Morning

Julie's eyes flickered open to the muted light of a cloudy September morning. Her hand instinctively reached across the bed, only to find a vast, cold stretch of linen.

The sheets felt too crisp, too undisturbed. Even after three months, she couldn't shake the muscle memory of Tony's presence, the warmth of his body, the gentle rhythm of his breathing, the subtle dip in the mattress where he'd once slept.

The king-size bed had once been their sanctuary. Now it felt cavernous.

She rose slowly and moved through her morning routine. In the bathroom mirror, she studied the woman staring back at her. Still familiar, but dulled, edges softened by guilt and time. She'd once been confident, grounded, fulfilled. A great husband, beautiful kids, a successful career.

Until she convinced herself she needed more.

"Back to where it all started," she muttered. "Back at the mirror. Back at the lie."

The woman she became had mistaken fear of aging for entitlement. She'd let doubts fester unchecked, telling herself Tony didn't desire her, didn't see her anymore. And so she'd gone searching. Not for joy. For validation. For attention.

In the room's corner, the full-length mirror stood as it always had, once her runway, now a courtroom. Her reflection offered no softness, only truth: a silk camisole clinging to a body she'd once used to tempt and reclaim. Now it felt like a costume from a performance she no longer believed in.

She tugged the camisole off and flung it into the corner. A remnant of delusion.

Tony was gone. Who was she dressing for now? There was no audience left, just her, and the consequence.

She moved to the dresser, slipped into yoga pants, and opened the top drawer for a loose shirt. That's when she saw them: the concert tees. Soft with wear, loud with memory.

She and Tony had bonded over music in college. Their tastes blended, metal, new wave, the strange alchemy that became the soundtrack of their love. She smiled faintly, remembering the Blue Öyster Cult concert at Radio City. Not her favorite band, but she'd never felt safer than swaying in Tony's arms under those pulsing lights.

The shirt she chose was from their tenth anniversary. A Depeche Mode show, surprise dinner, unforgettable night. It had been her go-to for lazy Sundays. For coffee. For cuddles.

She slipped it over her head. The fabric was soft, familiar. Armor.

This, this was the woman she wanted to be again. The one who celebrated milestones. Who knew what mattered?

In the kitchen, she queued up a playlist. The one Scott claimed she played to death. She chuckled. No doubt Tony had gone back to Black Sabbath. Probably blasting "Solitude" in some dramatic man-haze of heartbreak.

Her own taste had shifted. Progressive house. EDM. There was one song lately, Beautiful Things by Andain, that felt like a mirror. Sad, spiraling, accusatory. A woman suspended in motion, watching life pass by.

She poured coffee, skipped breakfast. The silence in the kitchen wasn't empty... it was reflective.

While rinsing the pans from last night, she bumped a counter stool. It jolted her into memory. This would've been Tony's moment, his arms sliding around her, a squeeze on her hip, a whispered joke before he reached lower, pulled her closer.

Sometimes, she welcomed it. Sometimes, she swatted him away. "I'm not a piece of meat, Tony."

Now she laughed, dry and bitter. "Yeah... that aged well."

She remembered his soft kisses. His hand on the small of her back. The way he touched her, not for what he could get, but for what he wanted to give.

She'd thrown it away for a man who didn't care if she laughed. Who didn't see her as a woman, just a warm body. A hole to fill.

And yet... even now, Tony's love was the only thing that still hurt. Because even in his hatred, it had burned more honestly than William's desire ever could.

The doorbell rang, startling her.

When she opened the door, music, off-key and glorious, greeted her. Sara, Scott, Jon, and Liv belting out "Happy Birthday" with cake in hand.

She blinked, stunned. She'd forgotten.

It was her birthday.

She stood frozen, the surprise catching in her throat.

They hadn't given up on her. Not entirely.

And somehow, that realization hurt... and healed... at the same time.

Chapter 17 | No

Monday September 9 2024 | 3 PM | Afternoon

Rain pounded against the house as Julie moved through dim, silent rooms.

Late summer thunderstorms came at you hard and passed just as quickly. She flipped on lights, as if brightness might fill the space Tony had left behind. Each illuminated space only emphasized his absence... his empty chair at the dining table, his coffee mug still hanging on its hook, the huge tin of Scottish butter shortbread cookies he loved, still unfinished from last Christmas, on top of the refrigerator.

The kitchen felt empty. It had always been their space, where dinner became conversation, where affection lived between stirring spoons and clinking glasses.

Opening the fridge, more from habit than hunger, the cool air brushed against her face.  

Her eyes landed on the case of Tony's favorite beer on the bottom shelf. She hadn't touched it... couldn't touch it. Like everything else he'd left behind, it felt like both a reminder and a promise that he might come back for these things someday.

Over the summer months, she'd built a routine around the emptiness. She used up a month of vacation from work and did nothing. When she returned, she submitted her blogs or columns remotely. Which was a struggle, as she had no desire to write.

She felt blessed that her kids didn't hold on to their grudges. Sara and Jon had come by to check on her, their careful conversations and gentle concern almost worse than silence. Scott brought Liv along... sweet Liv, whose eyes had widened with recognition when she connected Julie to her writing career.

"You're Maria Castellano?" she asked.  "My mom's gonna freak. She loves your book and reads your column." For a moment, Julie remembered who she used to be... the Pulitzer prize novelist who'd Americanized her name, Giuliana to Julie before marrying Tony, and used her middle name, Maria, as her nom de plume even as she built a personal life as Julie Williams.

But now, ten weeks into their separation, that other life felt like a story she'd once written... familiar but distant. She hadn't spoken to Tony since that last day in June when he left.

The divorce kept moving forward and her marriage was slipping through her fingers like water, and all her words... the ones that had earned her accolades... felt useless.

The silence pressed down around her, a physical weight on her chest. The house didn't just feel empty... it felt different, altered, as if Tony's absence had changed the very air.  

There was even an echo now, whenever she moved or did something, though everything remained exactly as she'd left it. Everything except what mattered most.

Julie straightened her spine, squaring her shoulders against the quiet desperation threatening to overwhelm her. At her age, every day presented a choice: get on with living or get on with dying. She'd made enough bad choices lately. It was time to make a better one.

But first, she needed to find her way forward. Not for Tony, not for the kids, but for herself. The woman who'd once been Giuliana Maria Castellano had never needed validation from anyone.

Maybe it was time to remember who she'd been... before she could become who she was meant to be.

******

7 PM | William

Julie had just finished wiping down the kitchen counter when her cell rang. She threw the disposable wipe in the sink and dried her hands before picking up the phone.

She froze at the name. A chill ran through her.

"William..." How had she not deleted his info?

She could let it go to voicemail, then assess what he wanted, delete and ghost him. Or she could deal with and end it... now. Her hand felt clammy as it hovered over the screen.

Accept or decline. Accept or decline...

Her lips pursed as she choked on a cry, remembering herself pinned underneath his frame...

Decision made, she pressed accept, set it to speaker and placed the phone on the counter. She was tired of trying to outrun her mistakes. It was time to put an end to it. With a heavy breath, she spoke.

"Hello..."

"Hey babe. It's been a while. I haven't seen you at the club," William said, tone smooth and empty. "Why don't we meet for dinner Friday and catch up?"

Her stomach churned at his casual tone. His confidence now made her skin crawl. She pressed her palms flat against the counter, steadying herself against a wave of self-disgust.

Julie realized she'd never been in control. He saw her vulnerability and pressed every boundary until she stopped pushing back. His aggressive behavior and the taboo nature of what was happening made her... submit.

But now, especially with the memory of their last time together... It filled her with rage.  

"No William. I'm not available for dinner on Friday or any other day. We are done. Lose my number and DO NOT give it to any of your fucking friends."

She could hear him breathe as the moments ticked forward. "What's wrong Jules? Is that anyway to greet an old friend?"

"Old friend?" Was he really that dense?

"My name is Julie. You do not call me Jules. I lost my mind listening to those bitches from work and... giving any part of myself to you was a massive mistake. So lose my number. This is over."

She furrowed her brows at the cell as she heard William... laughing!

"That's funny... a mistake... You got exactly what you wanted...  Julie. I gave you the adventure you were craving. I pushed your boundaries publicly. You opened up and did things with me that your boring old husband wouldn't do..."

"Don't talk about my husband! You don't know him."

"I don't have to know him. Your actions spoke loud enough for the both of us."

"To my eternal shame...." said Julie.

"Please... You older broads are all the same. You got bored in your comfortable life, believing that you deserve more. So you stop fucking your husband and then blame him for being boring when in reality it was all you. I may not know him, but I gave you what you needed. Public romance, excitement and a hard fucking."

The reality of his words hit Julie like a slap. As much as she wanted to hate him, she was the woman he described.  

The realization spread a chill across her body... she'd been nothing more than a throwaway conquest, a story he'd probably shared over drinks with his friend Matt. The woman she'd been then... felt like a stranger now, desperate for something... but blind to her own worth.

"Let me guess..." he said between laughs. "Did the princess get caught? Did hubby leave?"

"Lose my number..." whispered Julie.

Silence. Then, with a shrug in his voice: "Sure. Whatever..."

[...]

7:15 PM |

Julie's hand trembled as the call ended, William's words still burning in her ears. She flung the phone across the granite counter like it was toxic, watching it skid and spin before going still.

The kitchen was too bright, the overhead light casting harsh, angular shadows across the counter, across the phone. Her hands clamped the counter's edge, the marble digging into her palms. But it wasn't pain that rose.

As her rage built, a blunt pressure behind her eyes threatened to explode. William's indifferent cruelty had stripped away the last of her delusions. No, this slow and sickening anger... wasn't aimed at him. It was aimed at the woman she'd become, the one who had traded decades of love for fleeting moments of fake validation.

She pushed away from the counter and walked out onto the deck. The September evening and the familiar sounds of suburban life wrapped around her like a cool blanket... children's voices, barking dogs, the steady chorus of crickets... all trying to soothe her troubled mind. But peace felt like something she no longer deserved.

The massive oak tree in the backyard once again stood sentinel to her pain, its branches swaying gently in the evening breeze. How many summer afternoons had she and Tony spent beneath that tree? How many family picnics, quiet conversations? The tree had witnessed many moments of their love story, and now it watched her standing alone, haunted by choices she couldn't undo.

The truth came wrapped in cruelty... but it was truth nonetheless.

She tried to blame Tony for everything... their routine life, their comfortable silence, their predictable evenings. But who stopped suggesting date nights? Who wanted to go out with the girls for dinner and excitement? Who said no to any of his suggestions to do things together? Who... stopped reaching out across the bed at night?

She did.

The longer she catered to her delusions of younger men, the longer her marriage starved for love and attention. She diminished their emotional connection.

With steady steps, she walked back into the kitchen. Her phone lay where she'd thrown it. She scrolled through her photos until she found one from her wedding day.  

Tony was looking at her instead of the camera, his eyes full of something she hadn't recognized in years... hope. Pure, unguarded hope.

Her vision blurred as tears finally spilled over. William had been right about one thing... she was the grand architect of her downfall. Everything she needed had been right here all along, waiting for her to remember why she fell in love.

Julie wiped her eyes and opened her contacts. She had numbers to delete, and not just William's. The entire crowd from those nights out, they all had to go.  

But there was one number she wanted to call first... Needed to call...

His name blinked back at her from the screen.

Her thumb hovered, but didn't touch it. She didn't breathe.

The sound of something dripping in the sink.

It was easier to listen to that than to her own pulse.

She pulled her thumb back as if burned.

"No." she said, shutting off her phone and placing it face down on the counter.

She had apologized ad nauseum.  

This broken version of Julie, the one who forgot who she was, didn't deserve to have him back.

Chapter 18 | Dr. Bowne

Monday September 16 2024 | 10 AM

The office was dim and quiet, a muted gray light filtering through the half-closed blinds. Rain tapped softly against the windowpane. Julie sat stiffly on the couch, her coat still on, fingers knotted in her lap. Her shoulders curved inward, as if bracing for impact.

Dr. Bowne didn't speak right away. She watched Julie with that familiar calm, allowing space for whatever needed to rise.

Julie exhaled, her fingers knotting in her lap. Her eyes flicked toward the window, then back to the floor.

"I almost called him last night," she said, voice brittle.

Dr. Bowne's head tilted. "Tony?"

Julie nodded. "I was sitting in the kitchen, staring at our wedding photo. I kept thinking... if I just found the right words, maybe I could finally explain everything. Maybe he'd see I'm not... that woman anymore."

She paused. Her eyes drifted to the floor. "But I didn't call. Because there are no right words. Not anymore."

Dr. Bowne leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees. "That restraint... Was that out of guilt? Or clarity?"

Julie swallowed. "Both. Mostly clarity." Her voice trembled. "William called."

The name landed like a stone in the room.

"I answered," Julie continued, eyes unfocused. "And I let him talk. This time, he said all the quiet parts out loud. What I'd been too proud, or too ashamed, to admit to myself. That I was exactly the woman I used to judge."

Dr. Bowne stayed quiet, letting the moment breathe.

Julie laughed dryly. "He called me princess. Said I got bored and stopped fucking my husband. Said I used him for what I thought I needed... and then ran when the fantasy cracked."

She let the silence settle again, then added softly, "The worst part is... I recognized myself in every word he said."

Dr. Bowne's voice was gentle. "But was he right?"

Julie looked up sharply.

"He was cruel," Dr. Bowne continued. "He weaponized your pain. But was he right... or did he simply echo your guilt?"

Julie blinked, surprised. "I don't know anymore. I feel like I've apologized a hundred times. To Tony. Sara. Scott. Cassie. Jon... To myself."

"And yet here you are," Dr. Bowne said softly. "Still carrying it."

Julie's voice dropped. "Because it still lives in me... like shrapnel, I keep trying to ignore."

A brittle laugh slipped out.

"That's the irony, isn't it? I didn't cheat because I was miserable. I cheated because I thought I deserved more. More happiness. More attention. More... whatever."

She picked at a thread on the couch cushion, eyes fixed anywhere but Dr. Bowne's. The words hung there, acrid. Enough to make her throat tighten.

"I'm having a hard time writing," she blurted. "My editor at the Observer has noticed. It's like my voice evaporated. My Pulitzer, the columns, the book, none of it matters when you've become someone you don't recognize."

"Maybe you're not supposed to write like her anymore," Dr. Bowne said.

Julie looked over.

"Maybe it's time to write as the woman sitting here now. The one who's trying to understand her own story for the first time."

Julie's lips parted, but she didn't speak.

"You don't need to find the right words for Tony," Dr. Bowne continued. "You need to find the honest ones for yourself. Start with that."

Julie furrowed her brow. "Like a journal? I've never been the journal type."

"What about Letters," Dr. Bowne said. "To your family. Not for their approval. Not to fix anything. But to tell the truth. Say the things you've never said. Own what needs owning."

Julie nodded slowly, her breath uneven. "I tried that with Tony after the hospital stay. He didn't read them. They won't read them now. My truth doesn't matter to them anymore."

"They don't need to read them," Dr. Bowne replied. "This is for you."

The idea hit her harder than she expected. Writing not for forgiveness, or redemption, but for the woman lost in the wreckage. For the woman still worth finding.

Julie looked down at her hands, then out the window.

"I used to think the right words could stitch everything back together... like I could edit my way out of grief." She said quietly.

"They can't," Dr. Bowne agreed. "But maybe, in your case, they can build something new."

Julie felt something shift inside her. A loosening. A beginning.

She reached for her bag and stood, adjusting her coat. Her movements were still heavy, but there was a sense of direction now.

As she turned toward the door, Dr. Bowne added one final thought.

"You've said you feel broken," she said. "But broken isn't the same as finished. Go write. One letter at a time."

Julie paused, hand on the doorknob, then gave a small nod without turning around.

She opened the door, the rain still falling outside. Cold, but clean.

"I will," she said, stepping forward.

Chapter 19 | Quitting

Tuesday September 17 2024 | 9 AM | Closing Time

For nearly a decade, Julie wrote "Modern Family Matters," a Friday staple in The Metropolitan Observer, a prestigious digital publication known for its incisive commentary on marriage, parenthood, and the friction between tradition and progress.

Her columns had once captured the pulse of upper-middle-class urban life. But now, those words felt like echoes from a life she no longer lived.

The Observer's offices, housed in a sleek, converted industrial space in downtown Manhattan, had been her second home. Exposed brick walls and polished concrete floors bore witness to years of editorial meetings and columns defending traditional family values.

And yet her last piece, ironically titled "Keeping Faith: Marriage in an Age of Options," now stung like a splinter under the skin.

What would her readers think, she wondered, when they found out that the voice behind the column had failed at her own advice?

"That's a problem for another day," she thought, sipping her coffee while waiting in the video call lobby.

Adrenaline coursed through her fingertips. William's call had clarified things. She needed to sever ties with everything that had nudged her toward betrayal. The so-called friends who cheered her descent... they had no place in the future she needed to build.

She took another sip.  Outside, the clouds broke slightly as the sun threatened to emerge. Her hands moved steadily, queuing two emails to go out at 9:10. One was her resignation. The other, her last column.

She adjusted her webcam as faces appeared in their Brady Bunch grid. Hannah, the team's editor, was already in the conference room, purple mug in hand, scanning the meeting notes. Andrea's cat made its usual keyboard cameo. Mike looked like he'd sprinted back from a coffee run.

Across the room, Mary shuffled papers, murmuring rehearsals for her update. Meredith was absent, but Julie planned to call her directly.

A ping. Patty messaged that she'd be two minutes late, as usual. Julie caught her own reflection and quickly smoothed her hair, hyper-aware of her appearance. The familiar faces felt different now, less like colleagues and more like a silent jury.

This was her first meeting back after a two-month leave that combined vacation and personal time. The team probably thought she'd spent it tending to "family matters." And in a way, she had.

She hovered over the "Raise Hand" button.

Mary and Patty giggled about something in the background. Julie's mind flashed to those nights out, when they'd huddled at the bar and whispered poison: Tony doesn't need to know... You deserve more... Just have some fun.

Their laughter, once infectious, now felt like nails on glass.

She wasn't angry anymore.

She was done.

"Forget the bombs," she thought. "I'm above that."

"Okay everyone," Hannah began. "Updates on the two outstanding October pieces first, then I need..."

"Hannah, I'm sorry," Julie said, voice calm but firm. "Before we begin, I have something to say that will affect your planning."

Faces stilled. Andrea's smile faltered. Patty froze mid-hair flip.

"I've spent the last two months reflecting," she continued, "while trying to rebuild my marriage... as I'm sure you all know. And I've realized that real friends don't lead you into darkness. They help you find the light."

She let the silence settle, sharp as frost.

"Hannah,  Modern Family Matters is over. You'll have my final column and my resignation in your inbox in five minutes."

She glanced at the screen, eyes steady.

"And to the rest of you, I hope you never find yourselves surrounded by the friendship you gave me."

With that, she clicked Leave Meeting.

The grid disappeared. Her screen returned to a calm desktop background.

She logged out, closed the laptop, and exhaled.

"Done," she whispered.

Some endings, she realized, weren't collapsing.

They were ground zero.

The place where something better could finally begin.

Chapter 20 | Meredith

Monday September 16 2024 | 10 AM

Julie sat at the kitchen counter, spinning her coffee cup with a finger, her phone buzzing again. Another message from the Observer, she guessed.

Too little, too late.

She wasn't thinking about them. She was thinking about the next call, the one she couldn't avoid.

******

"Well... you certainly caused a shitstorm this morning," Meredith said. "EIC is going ballistic on the sluts. You might've just rewritten corporate policy."

"I don't really care," said Julie.

Meredith sighed. She couldn't believe it when Julie's name popped up on her cell.

A confrontation she was dreading, given her role in blowing up Julie's marriage. She hated to do it, as Julie had been her friend and mentor... but she hated cheaters more.  

She tried to stop Julie before she made a terrible mistake, but she just dismissed her concerns.

"Julie, I'm not sorry for my part in this. I hate it was you. Frankly, I'm... surprised that you are reaching out to me."

"What happened to me is my fault, Merry. You tried to warn me, to help me, but I was too... caught up in the fantasy to listen. As difficult as this has been for me, I don't harbor any ill will towards you. In a way, you helped me wake up. So thanks... for trying to help me..."

"Except for the propositioning my husband part," added Julie.

"I'm not sorry about that either. I doubt that I have any real chance with him, but he's a good man. I was happy and so envious of you. Good men are hard to find out here."

Meredith didn't say it with venom. Just exhaustion. Like envy had been living under her skin for years.

"Given my recent experiences, I agree, but that's also not why I called," said Julie, pushing her anger down. She opened the door to her marriage, and would have to deal with the real possibility of losing him.

"I need to know... How did you get those photos that you sent to Tony? Did you follow us?"

"Don't flatter yourself. I go to that club every Friday night to unwind and have fun with my friends. You and the sluts just chose the wrong club. I was upset at the way you dismissed my concerns, so taking videos of you getting fingered on the dance floor and blowing Mr. Wonderful in the parking lot was a simple decision."

"I admit to struggling a bit before sending them to Tony. But he deserved to know. I'd want to know if I were in his shoes."

"Anyway..."

Julie braced herself.

"What photos? I sent him videos."

Julie's body froze as her insides fell off a cliff.

No wonder Tony was so hurt... so angry. He saw what I did... my betrayal in full color... video. Her submission to William on the dance floor... dragging him out to her car. OMG! Did he hear what I was saying???

"Julie, are you there..." asked Meredith.

Julie sank against the counter, the laminate biting cold against her cheek.

She didn't cry. Just lay there, listening to the hum of the fridge and the sound of her pulse in her ears.

A sharp clatter cracked through the line. Meredith jerked the phone away from her ear.

"Julie?" 

Chapter  21 | Julie Williams, Porn Star

Monday September 16 2024 | 2 PM | Cassie

Cassie sipped her ice tea in the backyard, legs tucked beneath her, the wind teasing her curls as she stared at her sister.

"So, you're doing porn now?"

"Cassie!!!!"

Cassie's laughter trailed off, sharp and brittle.  

"I'm sorry for laughing. But wow. When you decide to implode your life, you don't skimp. Just when I think we've hit bottom, you pull out a shovel."

Cassie rubbed her temple. The joke landed, but the reality was harder to face.

"What am I going to do, Cass? No wonder he can't forgive me. How can he ever take me back with movies of me playing non stop in the back of his head?"

"Or on his phone... I don't know, Jules. Normally I'd say those videos wouldn't hold up in court, privacy laws and all that. But they were taken in public. Which means... fair game. If I were opposing counsel, I'd use them."

"Meredith said she deleted them... after sending them. But it's too late. It's already in his head."

Cassie's expression softened. "I'm sorry, Jules. I wouldn't wish that kind of shame on anyone, especially not my little sister."

Julie stared at the floor. Her voice cracked.

"Cass..." Julie's voice was barely a thread. "I need something to hold onto. A win. Just one. Or I swear I'm going to come apart."

Chapter  22 | Options?

Thursday September 19 2024 | 10 AM

Julie sat on the couch with a cup of coffee, staring out the window. The neighborhood had changed so much in the last twenty-five years. Many of the original families that they grew up with had either retired for warmer climates, or to move closer to their children.

She watched as a group of younger moms dressed in full workout clothing... jackets, tops and tights, water bottles in hand, power walking by the house. She liked the burst of color... bright purples, blues, and greens cutting sharply against the golden rust of early autumn.

Yesterday had to be the end. Quitting her job, confronting Meredith, and the revelation of the videos had to be the bottom of her plunge. She was already facing an upward battle to regain her life, but the videos turned it into a mountain. How could she win back Tony's trust after he watched her acting like such a...?

"A slut?" said the ghost of Dr. Bowne, seated in the corner with crossed legs and a tablet. She didn't look up as she scribbled. "Is that what you think he saw?"

Julie ignored the vision and looked back outside.

But that could be the problem. She kept thinking that she could win Tony back. Make things the way they were... But Tony and Dr. Bowne were right... that relationship... the 34 wonderful years together... was over.

"There's no going back to what we had. That life is dead," he told her.

Her selfish actions had turned that loving couple into... different people.  

No. Her only option was to move forward.

She could "move forward by rebuilding the old Julie," or "move forward by letting that version go and become someone new."

Old Julie still wore his name like armor. New Julie would have to learn how to walk without it.

The choice loomed before her, heavy, but in the end, was easy to decide.

It had been months since she'd last spoken to Tony, making the summer months feel colder, more like winter. She honored his request for space, leaving only occasional casseroles on his porch... small offerings of love that felt both necessary and futile.

In late August, at a summer music festival, she glimpsed him across the crowd during Scott's solo set, noting how grief had reshaped him, carved away the softness from his frame. Though it hurt not to be with him, "I'll play the game with patience if it helps him." She thought.

If I ever want him to see me again, I have to stop trying to bring back the dead.

Acceptance didn't ease the grief. It only hollowed her out differently.

But maybe... we can build something different.

Chapter  23 | Photography

Tuesday October 15  2024 | 8 AM | 

Tony watched the lake shift from steel to silver, cataloging the change like he once studied Julie's moods. The subtle rise in her voice when she was excited. The way she looked away when she was lying. How her hands fluttered away when she was hiding something, once endearing, then devastating.

The camera hung from his neck, solid and familiar... a steady tool for framing chaos.  He lifted it and scanned the shoreline, fingers adjusting aperture and exposure with mechanical ease. The early light cut through the thinning trees, casting long shadows across the dock. He took a shot, then another. Deleted both.

Still not right.

He stepped closer to the water's edge, crouching slightly to reframe the shot. The reflection was better now, less glare, more shape. Like a memory softening into something you could finally hold without flinching. A few yellow leaves floated on the surface like punctuation marks.

Click.

That one felt better.

It wasn't the picture itself. It was the stillness that followed.

He straightened, rolling his shoulders. Autumn had taken hold of the landscape, bold in places, quiet in others. The trees weren't fighting the change. They were giving in to it with grace.

He used to think strength meant holding the line. Enduring. Not letting go. Now he wondered if maybe it was the opposite. Maybe it was letting the old version of your life burn off slowly, so something new could grow in its place.

He turned away from the lake, looking back at the cabin. The windows glinting in the sun. The deck, littered with dry leaves.

The house didn't feel like exile anymore. It felt like a pause.

He raised the camera again, not to escape this time, but to see.

******

He turned back toward the house, the camera strap swinging gently at his side. The lake was behind him now, caught in the frame but no longer the center of his focus.

The screen door creaked as he stepped inside. The kitchen smelled faintly of reheated coffee and something vaguely toasty, like someone had burned a bagel and opened a window to let it out.

On the counter, next to the Moka pot, sat a folded sheet of notebook paper with a sharp, familiar scribble:

Took the kayak out. Back before lunch.

Tony stood there for a long moment, fingers brushing the edge of the note. Scott said little, but he always showed up.

No long messages. No awkward talk. Just that, simple, easy,  present.

He poured the coffee and leaned against the counter, the lake just visible through the window behind him.

He wasn't alone. Not really.

Maybe he didn't need to frame every moment perfectly.

Maybe it was enough just to see it.

Chapter  24 | Getting Physical

Monday October 28  2024 | 10 AM

"I'll see you in a bit, ladies. Bye!"

"Later, Julie!" one voice called.

"Don't forget, two o'clock at Charlotte's," another added, already halfway down the street.

"Bye!" Julie called, her voice light with something unfamiliar... relief.

Julie swung the backyard gate closed with a soft click, the morning sun warming her shoulders. She stretched a little before entering her kitchen and began preparing a yogurt berry bowl.

Sitting at the kitchen counter, spooning her yogurt berry bowl, Julie let herself feel something rare, pride. Real pride. Five weeks of showing up, and it was showing.

The local women's group welcomed her after she took a chance and introduced herself on their Facebook page. Now, every morning started with laughter and sneakers on pavement, an unexpected rhythm she relied on.

Added an afternoon Yoga session and alternated a workout with light weights.

Overall, she felt great, slept better, and looked forward to her days. The physical activity took her mind off of her troubles and allowed her to reconnect with herself. The work with Dr. Bowne gave her clarity around her behaviors, leading to a clearer mindset.  

Her new attitude spilled into her visits with Sara and Scott. They were thrilled at how she embraced life. While she never asked, she learned through the kids that Tony had taken a similar attitude.

He had taken a leave of absence from work, which surprised her. He was working out and taking better care of himself. Scott surprised her with the news that Tony had rediscovered his love of video games, and she was secretly happy when Sara told her he wasn't dating.

She made her way to her bedroom after taking care of the dishes. She smiled passing the hallway mirror. Her face was fuller. Softer. She was a healthier version of herself. But sometimes, when she caught her reflection too quickly, she still saw the woman who broke it all.  

That evening, she would complete the next part of her process.

She wasn't chasing the past anymore.

She was walking toward something new, even if she didn't know yet what it would be.

Chapter  25 | Writer's Block?

Monday October 28  2024 | 5 PM

Early evening light cast long shadows across Julie's mahogany desk, where three sealed envelopes lay like fallen dominoes, each one filled with words that had torn her heart to write.

Julie sat back and looked around her writer's nook.

In the corner opposite her desk, nestled between a tall bookshelf and her idea board, sat Julie's prized Stressless Mayfair recliner in butter-soft cognac leather. It was a gift from Tony for her fiftieth birthday, chosen with the same thoughtful attention he'd always paid to her comfort. Its gentle curves and adjustable headrest had cradled her through countless early mornings and late nights of writing, the leather developing a patina that mapped the hours she'd spent crafting stories of family and love.

She'd fallen in love with this corner of the house the day they moved in. It wasn't just an office, it was a window to the world she built. One eye on her deadline, the other on her kids playing in the yard.

In prior sessions with Dr. Bowne, they discussed a way to help Julie express herself by getting back into what she did best... writing, while also dealing with her loss.

"It's been a few weeks since we spoke about it. Why haven't you started writing?" asked Dr. Bowne.

"I've tried... I get as far as sitting in my nook... Multiple times... and nothing comes."

"What's stopping you?"

Julie looked down as she ran her hand through her ash blonde hair 

"I don't sound like myself," Julie said quietly. "Everything I write feels fake. Like it's not mine anymore."

"Surely you've had writer's block before. How did you overcome it?"

"I'd do something to take me outside of the project. Long walks. Or try different approaches or just leave it alone for a few days and do anything but write. But this is different... It's like I've lost the ability... to express myself."

"Ok. So why don't we start smaller then? If writing about yourself in the journal feels wrong, then how about we revisit the idea of writing a letter to Sara, Scott, and Tony? No need to overthink it, or offer an opinion on anything. No need to be creative... just tell the truth and offer an apology."

"I...," Julie kept her eyes closed, hand on her forehead, as she drew heavy breaths.

"I know. Tony didn't respond to your earlier letters, but everything was new and hurting then. He may be ready to read it now."

"I'll try," whispered Julie.

******

The cursor blinked accusingly, a steady rhythm that matched the ache in her chest. She once again pulled her fingers back from the keyboard.

"No." she thought. "Thirty-plus years of a loving marriage to Tony deserved so much more than a cold typed letter. Given her author status and their shared past, that felt disrespectful."

Looking at the bookshelf, she spotted the worn leather-bound journal. Another gift from Tony for their 25th anniversary, along with a beautiful fountain pen.  

Shutting her laptop, she grabbed the fountain pen and the journal before settling down on the recliner.  

The letters to Sara, Jon and Scott had been brutally honest, regret, shame, a promise to change. But Tony's... needed something more. Not a summary. Not an apology.

Something living, something he could feel.

She traced the coffee stain on the armrest, where she once tried balancing an espresso. Tony had never complained about that mark, just as he'd never complained about her late-night writing sessions or early-morning bursts of inspiration that sent her rushing to this corner of their home.

Curling into its familiar embrace, the chair seemed too large, too empty... like their king-sized bed or the dining room table set for one.

Pushing that ache aside, she let out a long breath.

Not to undo the past.

Not to ask for anything.

Just to tell the truth, before it was too late.

Then, with a trembling hand, she opened the journal, and began.

Chapter  26 | Lasagna

Thursday November 7 2024 | 7 PM | 

The sun had already dipped below the trees as Tony pulled into the wooden-beamed carport of the lake house.

His grandfather's idea of wanting this house to be as open as possible worked well from spring to fall. But he'd have to see how he felt about it when winter hit. Taking his workout bag from the trunk, he walked towards the side door, keys in hand as the faint aroma of tomato sauce caught his interest. Looking at the small table by the door, he saw the deep dish casserole.

A quiet warmth bloomed in his chest.  Of course, it was Julie. He smiled, helpless against the warmth that rose in his chest.  She'd been dropping off casseroles every two weeks or so. He never saw her as she never stopped by or called in advance, yet like Santa, she somehow knew when he was out to make her deliveries.

Dropping his bag in the mudroom, he carried the casserole to the kitchen counter. Flipping the aluminum foil top, he saw a lasagna ready to be heated and enjoyed.  

He filled a glass with red wine as the microwave beeped. He took the first bite and closed his eyes. Rich tomato, al dente pasta, just the right amount of garlic,  hers.

The last time it tasted this good, the recipe card caught fire.

Julie would have made her Nonna proud of her cooking.

******

After cleaning up in the kitchen and putting the remaining casserole in the fridge, Tony walked onto the deck to take in the crisp evening.

He heard laughter coming from Marcus's deck and saw that Gloria, or Glory, as she preferred, was over. He smiled and was happy that he had convinced his friend to join him at the local gym. Even though he was close to 10 years older than Tony, Marcus took to the challenge with great zeal and looked happier than he had ever seen him.

Meeting Glory was the bonus and reminded Tony that the love of a good woman could change everything for a man, and vice versa.

Tony walked back in, not wanting to disturb the new lovers. He grabbed the mail and sat on the couch. Four pieces of junk mail, a thick envelope, another letter from Julie.  

He placed it with the others, still unopened, five, maybe six now, like unopened windows into her side of the story.

The thick envelope held the separation paperwork from his job.  

Two months ago, Tony decided to leave the company. He didn't care enough to stay. No more meetings. No more metrics to track.

He had done well over the last 35 years in his career and between his savings, investments and the package that he was negotiating for his exit, he would live comfortably and be free to pursue more personal career options.

He ran his finger across the edge of Julie's letter. The envelope was plain white and simply addressed in her clear print style. No other markings that gave any clue to its contents. Twirling it in his hands, he left it for another day.

Some letters deserve to be opened on your feet, not slouched in end-of-day silence.

He got up and placed the mail on the kitchen counter by the door. The bright red envelope reminded him of his invitation to a party in the city for that coming Saturday night. It was a party for Em, not a surprise party, as Em was throwing it herself.

He toyed with skipping the party, but the thought of seeing Julie again pulsed beneath his ribcage, unwelcome, persistent, impossible to name.

He wasn't sure why the idea of seeing Julie made his stomach twist. Maybe it was the lasagna. Or the letter.

Leaving the card and the envelope on the counter, he went for a quick shower and looked forward to finishing the deep water base that he had been working on before going to bed.

Chapter  27 | Em's Party

Saturday November 9 2024 | 7 PM

It was months since Tony last needed to be in the city. But as the train pulled into Grand Central, that old flicker of excitement sparked to life.

He loved how the air and activity of New York felt different from his lazy day to day at the lake. Looking at his phone, the restaurant was about 5 blocks south.

Walking down Park, he made a turn and moved over to Madison. If it wasn't for the line of fancy dressed people waiting to get in, Tony would have walked right by the dilapidated exterior of Evergreen.

He stopped and looked up at the bright green circle above the mahogany doors. The only sign that this was an active establishment. "Only Em," he thought, shaking his head.

Tony joined the line of guests, his breath misting in the cool November air. Inside, he moved past the impressive bar toward the staircase leading down to the reception. With each step, the music's rhythm grew stronger, vibrating through the soles of his feet. Red and gold balloons danced along the railing, stirred by warm air from hidden vents, their metallic surfaces catching the light like tiny planets in orbit.

He smiled. What was she celebrating?

Reaching the bottom, the party space opened before Tony like a hidden sanctuary beneath the city.  

Weathered wood panels climbed the walls, their grain catching the pulse of emerald neon that shimmered like heartbeat light.

Overhead, modern track lighting cast warm pools across exposed brick and polished metal, while wisps of fog curled low across the dance floor, lending the space an ethereal haze.

The DJ booth perched on a small stage near the back, lights sweeping the crowd in sync with the beat. Opposite, silver chafing dishes lined the far wall in buffet style, flanked by small tables, rustic meets modern, grounded in food, music, and movement.

Servers dodged dancers as they brought appetizers around to all the guests. Tony figured that there were around 45 people, but it didn't feel crowded.

He spotted Sara and Jon laughing with Em and... Steve? He didn't remember the name, but the girls looked nothing short of amazing.

Em wore a fiery red silk dress that resembled liquid poured over her body and shifted colors as she moved. She clung to Jon's brother, laughing.

Sara, however, his little girl, was as beautiful as her mother had been at that age. Her royal blue dress clung to her body and the plunging V neck, allowed the jade pendant, a gift from his mother, to sparkle under the soft lights. He was surprised at how much skin Sara was showing, but it matched her change in attitude.

Jon, vigilant as ever, hovered protectively. Both of the guys looked sharp in their suits.

Drumming his fingers unconsciously against his thigh, he crossed over to the bar. A tequila shot to calm his nerves before joining the crowd. As he waited, he looked around the room, hoping to glimpse Julie before she spotted him.

It had been 5 months since they last spoke. Since Julie wasn't challenging the divorce, they didn't need to meet in lawyers' offices. It just hummed along at its own pace. Lawyers handling all the details.

He still wasn't sure what to believe.

She'd told him over and over, she didn't want the divorce. But she didn't fight it. At first, he thought she wanted freedom. Now, he wasn't so sure. Maybe she was doing this... because he needed it. But did he?

He downed the shot, then motioned to the bartender for a refill.

"Make that 2 please." 

Tilting his head to the right, he barely recognized her at first... not just the physical changes, but something in her bearing, her confidence. This wasn't the angry Julie who had left him, or the innocent Julie he had married. This Julie carried herself with a confidence that intrigued and unsettled him.

The emerald green party dress wrapped around her toned body. Thin straps held up a deep plunging v neck. A thin gauze like material in a lighter shade of green wrapped tight around her waist and fell to her knees. Her ash blonde hair was longer and fell past her shoulders. Her body, however, had become a work of sculpted art. Defined shoulders and sculpted arms. In short, she was breathtaking, and his racing pulse agreed.

Julie's face flushed as she was having similar thoughts. When she spotted Tony from the tables, she was impressed by how great he looked in his dark gray suit, crisp white collared shirt and festive red tie to top it off. His hair was a little more salt and peppered, but the short goatee beard was new. She liked how it framed his face and highlighted his eyes. He looked distinguished. She closed her eyes and took two deep, measured breaths before approaching him.

She rose on her toes and gave him a quick hug, followed by a light lingering kiss on the lips as the bartender delivered their two tequila shots. Tony embraced her and felt the hard muscle under her soft skin.

They held up their shots in a salute before downing them.

"Can I have this dance?" she asked.

"Jules... I..."

"One song... I'm not asking you to forgive me or to stop the divorce. Just to enjoy each other for a bit."

"Of course," said Tony.

Sara and Jon made their way to a table from the buffet. As they sat, Sara spotted her parents walking to the dance floor. The music shifted to a softer beat as people were gathering around the food tables, leaving Tony and Julie a lot of space to dance.  

They began like strangers at a formal dance, maintaining a careful distance that felt both proper and painfully artificial. Tony's hand rested lightly at her waist, the heat of her skin burning through the thin fabric. Julie's fingers brushed his shoulder, each point of contact sending sparks of memory through them both.

Sara laughed, watching her parents shuffle and sway like nervous seventh graders.

As the music pulled them deeper, their carefully constructed boundaries crumbled. One step brought them closer, then another, until the space between them disappeared entirely. Julie's head found its familiar place against his chest, and Tony's arms tightened around her waist, muscle memory betraying their resolve to remain distant. The scent of her perfume... vanilla and cinnamon, unchanged after all these years... made his heart ache.

The familiar way their bodies fit together felt like muscle memory, but underneath that comfort lay an unfamiliar tension. They moved together like two people who knew every step but were dancing to slightly different rhythms now.

The Julie in his arms was both achingly familiar and startlingly new... the same curves but harder edges, the same grace but more deliberate movements. Tony wondered if she felt the same disconnect... recognizing the man who held her while sensing the changes that months of solitude had carved into him.

Sara shed a tear as they danced. Each step broadcasting their sadness. As they stared into each other's eyes, she didn't think they noticed as one song blended into three.

Julie stepped back at the end of the third song, her hand still resting lightly on Tony's. She was about to lead him toward the buffet when the unmistakable trumpet of Careless Whisper sliced through the ambient din.

Julie froze first, her hand tightening around his. Tony's pulse stuttered. The first sultry notes curled around them like smoke, too familiar, too dangerous.

Hands still clasped, eyes meeting.

The past wrapped around them like smoke, too thick to see through, too sweet to fully resist.

A flicker of something passed between them. Recognition, regret, maybe even temptation. Julie turned slightly as if to pull away, but Tony's hand held firm, his other arm sliding around her waist as he gently drew her close again.

Sara watched from her table. Her breath caught as her mother's head nestled against her father's chest, the two of them swaying in place, not moving so much as existing within the music.

They made it halfway through the bridge lyric section before Julie's fingers trembled against Tony's chest. She stepped back abruptly, her hand rising to wipe at her eyes.

"I need a minute," she whispered, already turning toward the tables. He watched her retreat into the crowd, her silhouette briefly swallowed by dancing bodies and flickering light.

Sara moved instinctively, leaving Jon to follow her mother. Em, ever perceptive, slipped from Stephen's arms into Julie's place on the dance floor, offering Tony a silent reprieve through the movement.

The song faded, its last lingering notes dissolving into the pulse of the party.

Tony hugged Em and pressed a kiss to her forehead before she slipped back to Stephen's side.

When he looked up, he spotted Julie near the buffet, her expression composed but fragile.

He hesitated, unsure whether to follow or give her space, until she glanced back.

Just once.

It was enough. He moved toward her slowly, then took her hand as they each filled a plate.

They chose a table partially hidden by one of the wooden support pillars, creating their own private island in the sea of celebration. Julie toyed with her fork, stealing glances at Tony between bites.

"You look good," she said with a small smile. "The beard suits you. Honestly... kind of sexy."

"Thanks." Tony's fingers unconsciously brushed his chin. "You've changed too. I like the longer hair, and whatever your workout routine is... well.. wow!"

"Helps clear my head," Julie finished. "Gives me something to focus on besides..." She let the sentence trail off, but they both knew what she meant. Besides the divorce. The guilt. The endless loop of regret that played in her mind.

Their conversation drifted between safe topics... the kids, work, the party... but beneath every word lay the weight of everything left unsaid.

Throughout the night, Sara found herself drawn to watching her parents, unable to stop herself from tracking their movements around the room. Even when Julie danced with a different partner or Tony took a turn around the floor with someone new, their eyes would seek each other out across the crowded space, like compass needles finding true north.

When speaking with her dad, she noticed how his attention would drift mid-conversation, finding Julie in the crowd. How her mother's laugh would falter when she caught sight of Tony smiling at someone else. They moved through the party in a complex dance of their own, maintaining their distance while being hyper-aware of each other's presence.

"They're still in love," she whispered to Jon, who had wrapped his arms around her waist as they swayed to the music. "Look at them... they can't even pretend to focus on anyone else."

Jon pressed a kiss to her temple. "Love was never their problem, babe. It's trust they'll need to rebuild."

Sara leaned back against his chest, her heart aching for her parents as she watched them continue their careful orbit around each other. The space between them seemed to crackle with unspoken words and untouchable longing.

As they swayed, Sara turned and wrapped her arms around Jon, pulling him close. The music cut out mid-beat, drawing their attention as Em stepped up beside the DJ booth, a microphone in hand. Stephen stood just behind her, quietly lacing their fingers together in support.

"Hi everyone. Thanks for being here with me tonight. Seriously. You're all people I've laughed with, cried with, and debated the ethical implications of crop tops with, so it felt right to share this news in person."

"And no, this is not an engagement announcement. At least not yet." looking up at Stephen, grinning.

"Most of you know I used to act in a little show called Star Academy. Yes, I was that redhead who made alien tech look like Legos. The show ran for four seasons, twelve if you count the fandom's undying love."

"After the network broke up with us, via press release, I walked away from acting, got a degree, and met two lifelong friends... one of whom won't let me call her a sister, because technically we don't share blood or bras. But she is. Love you, Sar."

"Anyway... I'm thrilled, and mildly terrified, to announce that I'm returning to acting.  Star Academy: The Reunion Movie begins filming in January. So yeah... Zora's back. Brace yourselves for alien tech, emotional meltdowns, and, if I have my way, a proper space kiss this time. Thank you. I love you guys. Now let's party."

The music restarted and Em found herself surrounded on the dance floor as people hugged her and asked questions.

Liv and Scott eventually found their way to Em and gave her a big hug. "That's the big secret? Influencers spoiled that weeks ago!" said Liv.

"I know. It seemed like a great reason to get everyone together and party before the holidays. You look amazing in blue and white, by the way."

"Well thank you, miss girl on fire."

"Oh, this little thing?" said Em as she twirled around the shades of red coming alive.

"So tell me, in this new movie, will Zora finally get laid?" said Liv with a wicked smile.

It took Em a second before she screamed, "Ha! Who knows, there just may be a 10 inch dick in her future..."

"Em, we're talking aliens here. There better be at least two 10 inch alien BLUE dicks, or I'm not coming to the premiere." The two of them collapsed into laughter, clinging to each other like they'd just survived a space battle.

Scott furrowed his brow at Stephen. "She wants two blue...?"

Stephen shook his head. "Don't ask. Just nod and support."

******

As the party wound down, Tony watched Julie gather her wrap from the coat check. Their eyes met across the room, and for a moment, he considered offering to share a ride. The words stuck in his throat... no... that would send her the wrong message.

Julie understood his hesitation. With a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, she gave him a slight wave before disappearing up the stairs.  

Tony waited five minutes before following. Not because he didn't want to leave with her, but because he didn't trust himself if he did.

Sara noticed their separate departures, her heart heavy with both hope and worry. The way they'd looked at each other all night spoke of their strong love they held for each other, but whether that love could survive the damage done... remained to be seen.

Chapter  28 | Holidazed

Thursday November 25 2024 | 3 PM

November brought them together again, as the family and friends gathered around Julie's dining room table in the Westchester home for Thanksgiving dinner. The familiar scents of lasagna, turkey, and stuffing filled the house, mingling with the sound of football from the living room.  

The table was filled with food, laughter, and the subtle tension of a family trying too hard to feel normal.  

Julie caught Sara's eye across the table. She offered a small smile, but Sara didn't return it. Instead, she busied herself pouring water, reaching for rolls, speaking to Jon and Scott without once meeting her mother's gaze.

As dishes clinked and chairs scraped back from the table, Julie watched her daughter move through the kitchen like a soldier on patrol. Efficient, distant, unyielding. She waited, then followed.

"Need help?"

Sara didn't look up. "It's under control."

Julie hesitated, then stepped closer. "You've been quiet."

"I've been busy," Sara said, stacking plates harder than necessary. "Someone has to make sure the family holds together."

The words hit like a slap.

Julie opened her mouth, then closed it. Finally, "Sara, I know I hurt you. I know I hurt all of you."

"No," Sara said, finally turning to face her. Her eyes were sharp, not angry, but tired. "You didn't just hurt us, Mom. You abandoned us and blew up our foundation, then expected us to catch you on the way down."

Julie flinched. "I never expected that."

"Then what did you expect?" Sara's voice dropped. "Because from where I stand, you're trying to fix things by overcompensating, while pretending like it wasn't you who burned it all down."

Julie's breath hitched. "That's not fair..."

"No," Sara interrupted, "what's not fair is Scott pretending he's fine when he's not. What's not fair is Dad acting like he's moved on when he's still bleeding inside. And what's not fair is me, being the one who holds the pieces together when you were supposed to be the strong one."

Julie's voice broke. "I thought I was giving myself permission to live."

"Maybe you were," Sara said quietly, wiping her hands on a towel. "But the rest of us didn't get that choice. You left the house but kept showing up in different ways, confusing us with apologies and half-hope. And I didn't know how to feel about that. I still don't."

Silence stretched.

Julie swallowed her pride. "I'm sorry. Not just for what I did. But for not seeing how much you carried."

Sara looked at her then, really looked. And for a moment, her expression softened.

"I know you're trying, mom," she said. "But don't expect the holidays to fix this."

"I'm not," Julie whispered. "I just want to be in the room again... even if I have to sit in silence."

Sara nodded once. "Then be patient with us. Stop trying so hard. I mean seriously, you baked 6 pies! Who the fuck is going to eat all this pie?"

Sara dropped her shoulders. "We're still figuring out if we can trust you."

Julie nods slowly. She doesn't argue. Doesn't defend. Her children were not waiting to be repaired by her.

They've been changing without her. And if she wants a place in their future... She has to change too.

Late Evening | Julie Alone

The house had gone still.

Julie stood by the window, one hand resting on the glass, watching the moonlight dust the frosted grass with silver. Somewhere upstairs, Sara and Jon were settling into the guest room, their quiet footsteps muffled by the walls. Scott and Liv had left earlier, his hug polite but distant.

The warmth from the kitchen had long faded, leaving only the faint smell of cinnamon and turkey hanging in the air. Her hand drifted down to the edge of the counter where she had set out the dessert, too many pies, as if sugar could bridge the distance still lingering between her and her children.

"It felt like it used to," she whispered, voice barely audible. "But it wasn't."

She had clung so hard to the rituals, the family dishes, the perfect table settings, even the way she poured wine into Sara's glass as if muscle memory could erase years of absence. She'd smiled too hard, talked too much, hoping no one would notice the cracks beneath her performance.

But they had.

Sara's coolness wasn't anger. It was protection.

Scott's short answers weren't resentment. They were hurt.

Julie exhaled slowly, pressing her forehead to the glass.

"I thought if I could just get it all back..." The thought trailed off. Even she couldn't finish it.

She wasn't the mother they used to know. And they weren't the children she remembered. They had grown in her absence, found their own rhythms, their own strength. Trying to resurrect the past had only widened the distance between them.

She closed her eyes.

I've been trying to reassemble the old puzzle... when all the pieces have changed.

The realization stung.

She would never earn their love back by recreating what had been.

But maybe, if she could learn who they were now... if she could show them who she was becoming... something new could grow.

Thursday December 24 2024 | 4 PM

Christmas Eve in Sara's and Jon's apartment felt festive and subdued.

Julie arrived early to help Jon cook her Nonna's traditional seafood pasta. She wore an emerald green sweater that made her eyes sparkle with a muted mistletoe pattern as she ate some fried shrimp and calamari. Smiling as she remembered the first conversation she had with Jon about the dinner a few years ago.

"So... what are the seven fish we need for Christmas Eve? You know, for the traditional feast?" Jon asked.

Julie offered a soft laugh. "You know the feast of the seven fish is not an Italian thing, right?"

Jon furrowed his brows.

"It's an Italian American thing. In Italy, they celebrate Christmas Eve differently in every region. My grandparents were from southern Italy, so seafood was an easy to find staple. Plus, it goes with the whole Catholic abstinence from meat decree."

"Hmm... So is any part of the meal traditional?" he asked.

"All the dishes are traditional, just not given this seven fishes label. My Nonna called it La Vigilia. However, the panettone is traditional across all of Italy."

"Well, I love the pasta in the seafood sauce, and want to learn how to make the right way for our family and keep the tradition alive for our kids," said Jon.

Julie walked over to Jon and gave him a hug as he stirred the pot of seafood.

From across the room, Elle watched in silence.

Julie's arms wrapped around her son Jon, with the easy confidence of a mother who had never lost her children's trust. The simple intimacy of their embrace... the way Jon's head bent slightly toward her shoulder, the natural rhythm of their interaction... struck Elle hard.

Her earlier conversation with her daughter-in-law Sara echoed in her mind:  "Mom made mistakes, lost her way for a while... but she's fighting like hell to find it again."

Elle turned away, suddenly fascinated by the contents of her wineglass... an idea brewing in her mind.

They exchanged gifts over mulled wine. Tony's carefully wrapped presents arrived by mail, his handwritten cards expressing regret at missing the celebration.

As they sat around the tree, Sara couldn't help but notice how her mother's fingers kept touching the delicate silver bracelet her dad had sent her.

Thursday December 24 2024 | 9 PM

The living room had quieted, its earlier chaos softened into background music and half-empty coffee mugs. Sara and Jon were in the kitchen, teasing each other over the leftover desserts. Liv had gone to call her family.

Julie found Scott alone near the tree, crouched down, rearranging an ornament that had tipped forward, an old glass reindeer she had bought the year he was born.

She watched him for a beat before approaching, her voice soft. "You always liked that one."

Scott gave a small shrug, not looking up. "Yeah. Thought it was cool how it looked like it was flying."

Julie lowered herself beside him on the rug, folding her legs under her. "You know I used to hang it lower... so you could see it better."

He finally looked at her, eyes unreadable. "You did?"

She smiled gently. "You were obsessed with reindeer that year. Everything had to fly. You even tied string around your action figures and tried to launch them off the stairs."

Scott let out a surprised laugh, then caught himself, pulling back slightly.

Julie hesitated, then placed a hand over his. "I know. I've made you feel invisible."

He stiffened, but didn't pull away.

"You were always the one who needed nothing from me. Or at least that's what I told myself. Sara was loud and emotional and needed all of me. But you... you were this quiet storm, this sweet little boy who used to crawl onto my lap at night and press your ear against my chest just to hear my heartbeat."

Scott blinked, his expression faltering.

"I should have protected that boy better. I should have stayed for him. For you."

The silence stretched, but it wasn't empty. It was heavy with the weight of things never said.

"I know I can't go back," Julie continued. "But I see you. I really do. And I'm so sorry I didn't show you how much you meant to me."

Scott swallowed hard, eyes glistening just a little. "I used to think you loved Sara more."

Julie's breath caught.

"I know it's stupid. But it felt like she got the best parts of you."

Julie nodded slowly, her hand still on his. "That's not stupid. That's a wound. And it's real. But I want you to know... I've loved no one more than I love my son."

Scott didn't answer, but he leaned into her, just a little. Enough.

And in that quiet moment, with the tree lights glowing softly behind them, something between them finally mended.

Chapter  29 | Divorced

Monday December  30 2024 | 2 PM

Julie's hands trembled as she held the manila envelope. Thirty-five years of marriage, reduced to a few official pages.

Seven months of proceedings distilled into a few sheets of paper. Her body felt numb as she sank onto her couch, the afternoon light casting long shadows across her living room floor.

She reached for her phone, her vision already blurring with tears. The call went straight to voicemail... of course it did. Tony had stopped answering her calls since the separation.

"Tony..." her voice cracked, raw with emotion. "I got the papers. It's... it's really over." She drew in a shaky breath. "I know it changes nothing, but I need you to know how sorry I am. Not just for the affair, but for losing sight of us. For forgetting that you were the only adventure I ever needed."

Tears flowed freely now, her words tumbling out between soft sobs. "You deserved so much better than what I became. I hope... I hope you find someone who loves you the way you deserve to be loved. Someone who sees you clearly, who cherishes you like I should have." She pressed her forehead against her knees, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I'll never forgive myself for what I did to us."

The phone slipped from her fingers as she curled into herself, her body shaking with the force of her grief.

******

An hour later, the front door creaked open, footsteps slow and hesitant across the hardwood.

Sara found her mother huddled on the couch... her face tear-stained and vacant. Without a word, she slid in beside her, wrapping her arms around Julie's trembling form.

"He hates me, Sara," Julie choked out between sobs. "I fucked everything up, and he hates me..."

"Shh," Sara soothed, rocking her mother gently. "Dad doesn't hate you. He's hurting, just like you are."

Julie's fingers clutched at Sara's sweater. "I keep thinking I'll wake up and this will all be a nightmare. That I'll be back in our bed, with his arms around me..."

"I know, Mom. I know." Sara held her tighter, her own tears falling silently.

"I love you. We'll get through this."

******

Miles away at the lake house, Tony sat in his darkened living room, Julie's voicemail playing for the third time.

Her voice crackled through the room. Fragile. Echoed.

Tony stared past the bottle, unfocused. The glass caught the fireplace reflection... bright, flickering, meaningless.

The divorce was final. The ache wasn't.

And if this was winning, he wanted no part of the prize.

"It's done, Jules," he whispered to the empty room. "Don't carry it forever. Just... live. Find what you need. Be okay."

He had expected to feel relieved, maybe even triumphant. Instead, he felt hollow, like something vital had been carved from his chest. The divorce papers lay scattered across his coffee table, an official validation of his choice to end their marriage.

But as night settled over the lake, bringing with it a deep December chill, Tony couldn't shake the feeling that, in winning this battle, they had both lost something irreplaceable.

This was the right choice for him... they weren't the same people anymore.

But right didn't mean easy, and it sure as hell didn't mean painless.

He slid the letter beneath the bottle, hiding it from view. Not ready. Not tonight.

End Act 1

******

Disclaimer

Copyright ©2025TalesRekindled. All rights reserved. Uploaded to Literotica. com, which covers published materials with a site copyright. This story also remains the property of the author, who reserves all rights under international, UK and US copyright law.

Any unauthorized reproduction, publication, use, or reprint without the author's expressed authorization is strictly prohibited. This includes use on YouTube, Amazon, Medium, or similar platforms, even with attribution or credit.

All stories are entirely fictional and do not represent any real person or event. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.