Daughter | Bk 3 | 02 | Purgatorio

Foreward

Act 3, final chapter, is in queue for release. My profile is updated for other works in progress.

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

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

******

Previously on Daughter: Book Three, Act One...

Julie struggles to pick up the pieces as her divorce from Tony is finalized.

Stripped of her identity as wife and mother, she flails between shame, misplaced hope, and desperate attempts to reconnect with her fractured family. Divorced, hurting, and uncertain whether forgiveness is even possible.

Julie begins therapy, and finally confronts the full wreckage of what she's lost.

Meanwhile, Tony battles his own ghosts, torn between the love he still feels and the betrayal he can't forget.

******

ACT o2 | PURGATORIO

"Io non morì e non rimasi vivo."

"I did not die, and I was not alive."

-- Inferno, Canto XXXIV, line 25

******

Chapter 01 | Shoebox

Thursday January 16 2025 | 10 AM

Two weeks had passed since the divorce became official.

Julie stood in the kitchen, barefoot, unmoving. The kettle had gone cold again. She hadn't even realized it had finished boiling.

The folder with the final papers sat on the counter, untouched. The last receipt of a debt she'd never be able to repay.

No tip required.

She poured water into her mug and nuked it in the microwave.

As she waited, the mellow sounds and lyrics to Poe's Haunted swirled around her.

There were so many significant memories of their lives in this kitchen. The cooking, the kids, the celebrations, the playful, lusty moments... but recently, only one memory kept playing in her mind. The day she tried to get Tony to accept her desire to open the marriage and have an affair. Her delusions against his unwavering integrity.

****

"It's my body, and my decision. You don't get a say in this. I say who gets it and when!" she started.

Tony's response had been quiet but devastating: "The vows were ours, Jules. The vows that you seem to have no problem breaking are OURS.

How does that not give me a say?"

****

She could still see his face, the way his expressions shifted from confusion to hurt to disbelief, and ultimately to anger. The words tasted bitter in her mouth now, each syllable a testament to her arrogance.

Julie raked her fingers through her scalp. "God, I was such a fucking idiot. Blind. Entitled. Delusional."

"Six Fridays. Almost two months with that bastard. And none of it will ever add up to what I lost."

Snapping back in the moment, she realized Poe was right... She was done crying for the woman she no longer was. It was time to gather up the splinters of that life, build a casket for those tears... and bury them.

2 weeks of grieving her divorce, after months of separation, was enough...

She gathered the sheets and dropped them in the mudroom. One more load of the past to wash clean.

She moved with purpose, yanking on the sheets like they'd wronged her. Each yank of the old sheets felt like pulling away another layer of her past self. The fresh linens represented more than just clean bedding... they were a statement of intent, a physical manifestation of her determination to move forward.

She wrapped them up and threw them on the floor by the door, for drop off in the laundry room.

Opening her linen closet, she pulled out new sheets and a fluffy down comforter. The comforter resisted. She yanked harder. The dull thud hitting the floor sent a chill through her chest.

"Oh, no... the shoebox." She thought.

She froze, staring at it like it was a live grenade. To anyone else, it looked like an ordinary box that once held winter boots. But to Julie, it was "the memory box."

"Fuck..." The impact had scattered several folded pieces of notebook paper across the hallway floor.

Not just any notes... their notes. Small fragments of their college romance preserved in careful creases and fading ink. Her hands trembled as she gathered each one, memories flooding back with every touch. Their secret names, inside jokes, dreams of a future they'd actually built... and now lost.

Even their teasing notes weren't innocent. They brimmed with playful threats and vivid promises, each one a window into the wild, tender hunger they had for each other. She grinned, recalling the gleeful detail she once used to map out exactly how she'd "devour him" when they were alone. The words had faded, but the memory still made her blush.

'My first attempt at writing pornography,' she thought, chuckling to herself.

Back then, lust and laughter were always intertwined.

Box in hand, Julie made her way to the bed, her determination to move forward wavering. She sat on the edge of the bed, the box a heavy weight beside her. It represented everything she'd been... everything they'd been... before she'd let delusion poison their love.

She pulled herself onto the bed and sat in a lotus position. Carefully placing the box in front of her.

Her fingers paused on the worn lid.

With measured breath, she flipped open the lid and looked down at her memories.

Sheets of loose leaf paper folded into compact square and triangle shapes, which made it easier to pass to each other between buildings and classes. Each folded note felt like a timestamp of their love story... the paper worn soft from years of rereading, creases deepened by countless careful unfoldings.

She smelled the scent of stale cologne and perfume on some of them.

Under the notes were the cards. Mostly birthdays and valentine's day. And the pictures. 35mm and a few polaroids.

Looking at the contents, she felt sad that current generations would never have this. Nobody wrote notes anymore, and saving texts and digital images wasn't the same.

These handwritten notes, some with illustrations, were now... priceless.

She pulled up a polaroid.

Tony was asleep in the library, mouth open, his head resting on his Business Ethics textbook. She'd caught him napping after pulling an all-nighter for his MBA application essays.

Tucked behind the photo is her note from that day: "You looked so peaceful I couldn't wake you. Left you coffee and a muffin at the desk. Ti Amo, my sleepy entrepreneur. - Julie."

She remembers how he'd shown up at her dorm later that evening with the empty styrofoam cup, on which he'd drawn a tiny heart next to a rough sketch of their future house... complete with a writing nook for her. On the bottom of the cup, he'd scrawled "ROI = Return On Italian," his typical blend of business speak and jokes about their cultural differences.

She flipped through the items to see if she kept the cup, only to find that she had cut it with a scissor, but kept the important pieces.

She placed them back into the box as a small envelope caught her eye.

Inside were small fragments of paper resembling confetti until the memory hit her. They were fragments of the first love note she'd ever written him, which he'd accidentally run through the washing machine in his jeans pocket.

He'd carefully collected every piece and brought them to her, devastated. They tried to piece it together like a jigsaw puzzle, but the reconstructed note read more like a ransom note than the spicy one where Julie expressed how she couldn't wait to "pounce on him later that evening."

"These are amazing memories," she thought. "When did I stop seeing him?"

She placed the items back in the box carefully and sealed it, her fingers lingering on its worn edges. She pressed the lid closed. Those notes belonged to another Julie... one who hadn't yet gambled on what she couldn't afford to lose.

But maybe that hard won wisdom could serve some purpose beyond her own guilt. She snuck it back into the linen closet for another day.

She picked up the dirty sheets and dropped them off in the mudroom downstairs. Pouring herself a glass of water from the fridge, she sat on the counter, remembering one conversation they had via the notes. They wrote about their vision of marital success.

She explained about the three pillars of marriage that she learned in a psych class. Trust, respect and love. A couple could survive losing one of those pillars, but two?

Tony's reply was simple. "That would be game over for me." And she agreed.

Julie knew how hard the job in front of her would be. Rebuilding Tony's trust was like trying to restore her destroyed love letter... he words survived. But some lines were ruined, too dark to read.

During her sessions with Dr. Bowne, they went through the stages of grief. She had been angry at Tony. But mostly, she'd turned it inward, furious at herself for torching the best thing she ever had.

She tried bargaining with Tony, by offering him anything he wanted, including her body as the prize, only to be rebuffed, which then spiraled her into a depression.

But today was different. Now that the divorce was final, she felt... sort of free. This must be acceptance. The last phase of grief. Well... it still sucked to be alone without Tony.

Looking back, the one question she could never fully answer was... why? Why do it? Dr. Bowne kept asking, Tony asked... repeatedly. But even she found her responses to be... weak.

"Why?" The question was with no answer.

As an accomplished writer, her best work was when she took her actions and life to task. Probed the reasons she, or society, did things the way they did. How have societal trends changed with the advent and usage of social media?

In fact, it was these questions that led her down the rabbit hole. She was living proof of how even the most intelligent and accomplished individual could make poor decisions, especially when emotionally vulnerable.

It was time to investigate the only subject she'd ever truly avoided... herself.

She could explore her downfall and help others avoid the heartbreak of losing those that they held dear in their lives. Old Julie was insightful, even funny. This version would bleed on the page.

After months of silence, Julie felt her creativity smolder within her.

The urge to write rose in her like a wildfire, familiar yet different from before. This wouldn't be just another story... This would be her confession, her warning, her attempt to make sense of how a woman could have everything she'd ever wanted and still reach for more. Her fingers itched for a keyboard, her mind already arranging words into sentences, seeking patterns in the chaos of her choices.

Her thoughts cycled through so many options... She would create a personal blog to explore these topics, or she could write her second book. Her first book targeted and helped young mothers through pregnancy and childcare. This one would attempt to help women like her... struggling with old age and becoming invisible.

No... She would do both.

Use those poorly written journals and rewrite them into blog posts. She would create an overall theme around the posts. Then launch a site for the posts and reach other women. The posts, and any reader interaction, could then become the basis for her book.

She wiped her sleeve against her face. She still cried, but this time, something in the tears felt like hope.

The doorbell chime startled her from her thoughts. She wasn't expecting visitors, especially not today, when she'd finally found the strength to face her past. Through the curtains, she glimpsed a familiar figure that made her heart skip... Elle, Jon's mother, standing on her doorstep like an answer to an unspoken prayer.

"Eleanor... sorry Elle, what a surprise." Julie said, opening the door. The woman before her looked both familiar and changed, carrying herself with the same careful dignity Julie recognized in herself these days... another wife who'd walked through fire.

They had spoken during Thanksgiving at Sara and Jon's. Did she forget she invited Elle over? "No, that wasn't it."

"Please come in. It's chilly out there," said Julie as she stepped back into her home.

But Elle... stood there for a second. Something in her expression made Julie pause. They'd always been friendly... more than just in-law pleasant, less than truly close. But there was an urgency in Elle's eyes now, a need that Julie recognized.

Julie's eyes widened as her journalistic training kicked in.

That look...

She'd seen it before.

It was the same look she saw every morning in the mirror.

The look of someone carrying a story that needed telling.

Someone seeking understanding from perhaps the only person who might truly comprehend.

Chapter 02 | Breaking the Silence

"Thank you, Julie. I'm sorry I didn't call first. I hope I'm not intruding," Elle said, her voice carrying the hesitancy of someone crossing an invisible boundary.

"Not at all. It's actually a pleasant break from all the quiet around here. Here, let me take your coat." She gathered Elle's coat, noting how the other woman's shoulders stayed tense even after removing the winter weight. Julie hung it in the entryway closet.

"Thank you. Honestly, this is the second time I've tried to gather the courage to talk with you."

"Elle... Come, can I get you a coffee or tea?" Asked Julie.

"Tea sounds lovely, thank you."

"Of course. Let's sit on the kitchen counter while I get it ready."

The kitchen, usually a space of solitude these days, felt different with Elle perched at the counter.

Julie busied herself with the kettle, grateful for the familiar routine as she arranged holiday cookies on a tray... leftovers from Sara's Christmas day dinner. Julie found Elle's demeanor a little concerning, but didn't want to push her into an unwanted conversation. Something was up and she would find out soon enough.

Julie placed the cookie tray on the counter, along with two deep mugs. She then brought over the hot water and a small wooden box. "Different tea packets are in there. Hopefully, there is one that you like."

"They're all good, but I'll have the green tea to start."

They prepared their teas in silence. Elle swirled her tea, then wrapped her tea bag around her spoon with methodical focus, as if the simple act could delay the conversation ahead, before placing it on the saucer.

"Elle, I'm sorry for asking, but is everything Ok?"

Elle looked up at her and gave a weak smile. "No, not really. Nothing has been ok for the last 12 years. But I think I'm ready to change that."

Julie gave Elle a look of compassion, but allowed her to continue.

"I know we are not as close as we should be. That's my fault. I didn't handle my family's situation correctly from the beginning and allowed it to change me into a person who I hate. I know a little of what you have been going through and when we spoke at Thanksgiving... and I realized you could use the one thing that I didn't have... a friend."

Julie sighed as she placed her hand over Elle's. "I... I would like that." The gesture bridged more than physical distance... it connected two women who'd learned the hard way how easily love could slip through careful fingers.

After taking a sip of her tea, Elle asked, "How much do you know about the circumstances around my marriage? Has Jon said anything?"

"He told us a little. I never pushed. He was clearly hurting. What I gathered was... he walked in on your husband and the neighbor. He ran, told you right away, and in the fallout, you retaliated. But then... you and your husband stayed together, and the house turned toxic."

She could see tears forming in Elle's eyes. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have..."

"No." Said Elle "I need to hear it. That would be how he remembered the story, since I did nothing to change it. I behaved so badly back then. My husband may have been a serial cheater and a liar, but I destroyed my family by not fighting to protect it."

Elle could see the confusion in Julie's eyes.

Elle's fingers traced the rim of her mug.

"You see Julie. What the boys don't know..." Elle paused, her voice cracking, "is that I never actually cheated."

She let the words hang, then added, "I just... let everyone believe I did."

"What?" Said Julie.

"In a stupid, misguided way, I rationalized I would hurt my husband the same way that he hurt me."

Julie's eyes opened wide as the implication sunk in. "But why keep the secret for so long? Jon has been so hurt..." Julie whispered, her own recent failures suddenly cast in a new light. "Why didn't you tell them?"

Elle's laugh cracked under decades of regret. "How do you tell your children that you let them believe a lie? That you were so broken by their father's betrayal that pretending to be equally guilty seemed... easier somehow?"

"My greatest shame as a mother was not being in the right mental space to help my sons."

"Let me explain..." said Elle.

"I knew something was wrong the day Jon ran into my office," Elle began.

"I pulled him into a side room, and he told me everything he saw. It shattered my world."

"The fight that night with my husband was... brutal. He blamed me for his infidelity, insisted it was just sex, meaningless. But it wasn't meaningless to me. I loved him. We were intimate. We were a family."

"I became a ghost in my home. I threw out the living room set. Then I found out... it wasn't just the neighbor. There were others. In our bed. Our home. That's when something inside me broke."

"I wanted to hurt him like he hurt me. I started going out, staying away late. I wanted him to wonder. To worry. I flirted with the idea of revenge... but I couldn't do it. I couldn't break my vows, even after he shattered his."

She snorted as she looked down at her mug. "I was so nervous when men tried to hit on me that I laughed. Laughed right in their faces. It wasn't even about them. It was about the absurdity that after everything... I still belonged to him. To the promises we made."

"But by then, Jon and Stephen were gone. Grown. And I... stayed. I stayed in a toxic house because I was too ashamed to leave. Divorce was a failure in my world, Julie. Worse than betrayal."

"I thought about telling the boys the truth. A thousand times. But how can you make them understand you were too broken to protect them?"

She met Julie's eyes, voice trembling. "My greatest failure wasn't staying with him. It was letting Jon and Stephen carry the wrong story in their hearts and drift away."

Julie could only nod. Tony's similar words about vows echoing in her mind.

"I couldn't get rid of the feeling of disgust for him and anger at how my life turned out. I didn't have the courage to divorce him. I thought he could change... We were in love once. Why not again? But that never happened."

"In the end, I started going to a therapy group and met friends that understood. We would spend a few nights together and talk, which was good, as it kept me away from him and let me heal."

"He moved out nearly two years ago. We completed the divorce quietly... no announcements, no explanations."

Julia rose from her chair and embraced Elle in a warm hug. Both women could feel each other's bodies tremble as emotions poured from their eyes.

"You need to tell them the truth. Or they'll carry the wrong story forever," said Julie.

"What good will that do? They've moved on. Your Sara is such a wonderful young woman and I hear Stephen has met someone new. I don't want to bring anymore pain into their lives."

"No. You're wrong... They are both still hurting, just dealing with it in different ways. I know because I also hurt my family with my delusional stupidity. Jon and Sara are starting a family soon. Don't you want to be a part of that?"

Tears welled in her eyes as she said, "Of course I do... I've held onto this anger for so long..."

"Do you trust me?" Julie asked, the irony of her position not lost on her. Here she was, fresh from destroying trust in her own marriage, offering to help restore it to someone else's family.

Elle met her gaze, years of careful isolation warring with desperate hope. "I couldn't talk to anyone before," she admitted. "But talking to you at Christmas... seeing you face your mistakes, try to make amends... Maybe it's time I did the same."

Elle nodded as she wiped her wrist across her face.

"Yes. It's time. I trust you."

Chapter 03 | The Plan

Saturday February 8 2025 | 4:30 PM

It took Julie a few quiet weeks to plan the get-together.

She invited Sara, Jon, Stephen, and Em over for coffee and dessert under the guise of wanting to catch up after the holidays and deliver some good news.

Getting Em back in town was the hardest part to schedule. But once she said yes, everything fell into place.

The plan was for Jon and Stephen to arrive at the house around 5pm.

Sara and Em would be out doing something together during the day and would meet them later at the house. Once they settled a bit, Julie would have the conversation with them about her misdirection and then let Elle come in to talk with her sons.

Elle was visibly nervous about the evening. "What if they walk out, Julie? What if they can't forgive me for not protecting them?" she asked.

"They won't. Your sons are not like that. Jon will listen, and it will be up to you to explain it to them. Answer their questions. You can do this Elle."

Julie squeezed Elle's hand, her own heart thudding harder than she expected. Elle gave Julie a quick hug as the doorbell rang.

The moment was here.

"Thank you."

Saturday February 8 2025 | 5:15 PM

Julie let Jon and Stephen in and placed their coats on the nearby living room chair.

Jon gave Julie a hug. "Hey Mom. It's good to see you again." Then he noticed the smell of cinnamon. "Are you baking something?"

"Hi Jon. And yes, I did invite you over for coffee and dessert, after all." She reached out to give Stephen a hug.

"And hello Stephen. I'm glad you could make it. How are you and Em doing with the long distance? I hope it hasn't become a problem," said Julie.

"We've been ok, so far. I miss her, but we're in touch daily and plan online movie dates once a week. She surprised me this weekend though by flying in unannounced and asking me to meet her here," he said.

"Well, I'd say get used to it. We've known her for over ten years and she is all action when she gets an idea in her head."

Stephen laughed. "Yea, I've run into that scenario a few times myself."

"I don't doubt it." Julie said with a smile. "Please sit down in the dining room. We can have some coffee while we wait for the girls."

Julie poured out four cups of coffee as the guys sat down across from her.

Jon glanced at the fourth cup. "Is Dad here?"

"No," Julie whispered. "I wish he were."

She took a breath. "Listen... I wasn't entirely honest about why I invited you."

Jon and Stephen exchanged a wary look.

"But I'm asking you to hear me out for a friend who needs to be heard."

With a nod, they settled in their seats and brought their mugs closer.

Julie gathered her breath.

"I've started writing again. Not another parenting book, this one's different. It's about losing everything... and trying to rebuild. About the mistakes I made, and the hope that maybe someone else won't have to make them too."

"I'm also launching a blog to support it. Essays, interviews, real conversations with women who've lived through what I have. Not to justify what I did, but to tell the truth. All of it."

She bent forward and took hold of Jon's hand. "A woman you both know has come forward and wants to be the first interview for the blog site."

Jon and Stephen looked at each other with furrowed brows. Jon watched as Julie hesitated, then seemed to gather courage.

Julie's voice dropped to a whisper. "That woman is your mother.... Eleanor."

The confusion in their eyes quickly turned to annoyance. Possibly some anger.

Jon's jaw tightened at the mention of their mother. "Mom, if this is some kind of intervention..."

"No," Julie breathed, holding up her hands. "Not an intervention. More like a resurrection, with cinnamon rolls."

"You have the story all wrong..." Julie replied. "Elle came over a few weeks ago to offer me her friendship. Something that we both needed. We've been talking ever since. I know the truth of what happened with your father, and I brought you both here to... listen."

The scent of cinnamon intensified before Jon and Stephen noticed the movement at the kitchen threshold. Their mother, Elle, looked nervous as she walked in with a pan of her cinnamon rolls. She placed them on the table, next to the plates and cutlery, before standing next to Julie in front of them. Her head and shoulders bowed inward as she fumbled with her fingers.

"I'm going to be in my writing nook past the kitchen. I'll text the girls to come over in about an hour. Give you all a chance to re-connect with the truth."

Julie walked through the kitchen and grabbed a cinnamon roll before sitting on her desk in front of the laptop. She could not stop writing these past few weeks. She had been in the creative flow before, but this was flow on steroids.

After a quick text to Sara, she got back to the final editing of the posts for her blog site launch.

Happy that there was no yelling coming from the dining room, she began typing.

"This just might work," she thought, feeling happy for Elle.

******

The buzz from her cell phone let her know that Sara and Em were outside on the deck. She walked out of her nook and opened the back door to the kitchen, letting them in.

After brief hugs and hellos, Julie grabbed her cup of coffee. They watched from the kitchen doorway as years of misunderstanding dissolved in a tangle of arms and tears.

The dining room that had borne witness to so many celebrations and fractures, was now holding something new...

Not joy. Not yet. But release.

Elle stood in the center of her son's embrace, looking smaller and stronger all at once. Her hands trembled as they touched Jon and Stephen's faces, as if checking that they were real, that this moment of reconciliation wasn't another dream she'd wake from alone.

Sara and Em moved toward the group with the careful steps of those approaching something sacred. Em's usual confident stride had softened into something more reverent as she watched Stephen's shoulders shake with silent sobs. She wrapped her body against his back and poured her love into him. Sara's fingers found Jon's, intertwining naturally, anchoring him as he processed this new version of his childhood story.

Sara then tightened her arms around Jon and Elle, her voice barely a whisper against her mother-in-law's shoulder.

"We needed you to come back. He just didn't know how to ask."

Em moved to face Stephen and pressed her forehead against his, anchoring him without words. They then joined in the hug.

The years of anger didn't disappear.

But for the first time, love outweighed the distance.

The memory of an article Julie once researched and wrote early in her career about a Japanese custom... Kintsugi... came to her mind. She recalled images of broken pottery and china that were pieced back together with glue, then dusted with powdered gold along the glue lines.

The philosophy behind it being that something can become even more valuable after being broken and repaired with gold, representing resilience and the beauty of flaws.

"Flaws... it'll take more than gold to fill mine..." she thought.

As Julie watched Elle reclaim her sons, she felt a fragile, aching hope stir within her. Maybe people could piece broken things together into something stronger, not despite the damage, but because of it.

Here, in the same room where she had once demanded Tony accept her betrayal, she was witnessing the power of truth to heal what lies had broken.

Her fingers tightened around her coffee cup, the warmth a reminder that she was present for this moment, not lost in her own regrets.

Julie smiled as she flipped a lock of hair to the side, then turned back toward her writing nook, leaving the family to their private moment.

The screen glowed. Waiting. So was she. Her writing over the last few months had surprised her. There was a distinct edge to her prose. Even if it didn't connect with other people, releasing these emotions into the world felt good. There were stories to tell, truths to share, wounds to heal.

Starting with hers, then Elle's, but not ending there.

The sound of gentle laughter and introductions drifted from the dining room... not the carefree kind, but the watery chuckle of those finding their way back from darkness. Julie's fingers hovered over her keyboard.

Yes, this house will forge new memories again.

Better ones.

Truer ones.

Chapter 04 | Never Stop Earning It

Saturday February 14 2025 | 6 PM

The golden hour light filtered through the sheer curtain in her writing nook, casting soft shadows across her desk. Julie moved a stack of paper aside, intending to tidy the surface before settling in to edit her next blog post.

Something slipped free from the pile, an envelope, old and soft-edged, with a familiar script across the front. Her breath caught.

Jules.

She froze.

It was a Valentine's card. One of the last before everything changed. She hadn't meant to keep it here. It must have gotten buried months ago, during her earliest attempts to write again.

She opened it slowly.

Julie,

You still look at me like I'm your whole world.

I hope I never forget that feeling.

I'll never stop earning it.

-- Tony

Julie swallowed hard. The ache behind her ribs bloomed into something sharp.

She remembered this card. The way he tucked it inside her planner that morning. How he burned her toast but made her laugh until she snorted coffee. The way they danced in the kitchen, tipsy on red wine and affection.

She stared at the card. As if it could lead her back.

"I never should've stopped looking at you that way," she whispered.

Her journal sat open beside her laptop. She picked up her pen and carefully copied the words;

I'll never stop earning it.

I'm not sure I deserve those words anymore. But I want to become someone who could.

She slid the card into the pocket of her journal. Not as a keepsake, but as a compass.

Outside, the wind rustled through bare branches. Inside, the tea kettle hissed to life.

Julie stood and walked to the kitchen, her heart heavy, but her steps steady.

This year, there were no cards. No partner. No candlelight.

Just the truth.

Just a memory.

Chapter 05 | The Second Draft

Saturday March 1 2025 | 8 PM

Julie's fingers hovered over her keyboard, electricity humming through her veins. After months of writing, deleting, and rewriting, the moment of truth had arrived. The launch date for her site was finally here. Everything was set up and ready to go live on the TruthPress site. She had 6 posts ready to go and 5 more in various stages of completion.

She kept the color palette muted. No distractions. Let the truth do the talking.

Choosing the name for her site took longer, but she settled on a name that offered a double entendre bridge between her past and future life.

And so The Second Draft was born and ready to go... after she reread the about page one last time.

"How to Lose Everything You Love in Five Easy Steps"

I used to write about love and family with the confidence of someone who thought she had it all figured out. My byline graced countless articles about marriage, commitment, and staying true to your values. Then I destroyed my thirty-five-year marriage by convincing myself that modern feminism meant I could have whatever I wanted without consequences. I was wrong.

This isn't a story about being a victim of changing times or misguided ideologies. This is a story about how I betrayed everything I believed in, hurt everyone I loved, and learned that real freedom isn't about doing whatever you want... It's about being accountable for everything you do.

The thing about self deception is that it doesn't announce itself with fanfare. It whispers. It rationalizes. It wears the costume of enlightenment. And if you're a writer like me, someone who prides herself on understanding human nature, you can craft the most elegant justifications for your worst choices. You can turn betrayal into an essay on sexual autonomy.

You can dress up selfishness as self-discovery. I know, because I did exactly that. And now, as I sift through the wreckage of my choices, I'm ready to tell you how it happened... not to defend my actions, but to understand them. To own them. To warn others who might be tempted by the same seductive lies I told myself.

If you're here for redemption, you won't find it. But you will find the truth.

Giulia Maria Castellano

(formerly Maria Castellano)

She leaned back, staring at the screen. One more click would launch it.

Julie... no, Giulia, traced the journey that had led here.

Forty years of compartmentalization.

She became "Julie" in high school. Tired of hearing teachers stumble over "Giulia," tired of correcting them, of feeling othered by her own name.

Later, she published under Maria Castellano, a curated version of herself built for success, polished and detached.

Two names. Two lives. The tidy halves of a woman who once believed she could split herself to survive... and still have everything, without consequence.

But she wasn't surviving. Not really.

That woman was gone, burned away by the life she tried to fake.

It was time to become whole again.

Now only Giulia Maria Castellano remained, raw, fallible, and unwilling to hide behind a pen name ever again.

Reclaiming her full name wasn't branding. It was a declaration.

This time, she wouldn't edit the ugly parts out.

"But could words alone ever atone for what I destroyed?" she whispered.

Writing had always been her safe harbor, a way to make sense of the world, and her place in it.

But this time, her words would lay bare the wreckage she had created.

Sara and Scott had forgiven her, cautiously.

Tony... she hadn't even dared to ask.

Her finger hovered. Fear clawed at her chest.

Would anyone care?

She thought of Tony's silence, of Sara's guarded smiles, of Scott's lingering distance.

No.

Her fear would not contain her any longer.

Giulia pressed Publish.

She wasn't asking for forgiveness.

She was asking for a second chance... starting with herself.

Chapter 06 | Five is Enough

Wednesday March 5 2025 | 6 AM

Wrapped in a blanket and cradling her coffee, Giulia sat in her writer's nook as dawn pressed gently through the window.

The sounds of Little Moments by Omar Linx filtered in from the kitchen, seeping into the room's corners, curling like smoke. The early rays lit up the sprawling branches of the oak tree, highlighting the spring buds that were weeks away from flowering. She'd slept maybe an hour, checking site analytics like they could measure repentance.

She reread her first post. It was raw, honest and terrifying... and possibly resonating?

The site had been live for less than a week and had gained five followers. At one time she had 150,000 readers. Now she had five. Her chest tingled... just a flicker, like something long-dormant had sparked back to life.

These five people weren't following her for lifestyle tips or relationship advice. They were witnessing something raw... a confession in motion, an attempt at redemption. Each follower represented someone willing to listen... and learn from her mistakes.

She closed the laptop, the silence no longer heavy, just quiet.

Five wasn't fame. Five wasn't forgiveness.

But five were listening.

And that was enough.

Chapter 07 | First Date

Friday May 2 2025 | 2 PM

The early spring gust caught Tony by surprise as he opened the door to the daily grind. The breeze carried more bite than charm. A good metaphor for dating, actually.

"Well, here goes nothing," he thought, as he wasn't sure if he was ready.

Friends had set him up with two women since the divorce. Both were pretty, neither right. One wanted sex before learning his last name. He hadn't said no. It felt good to be wanted, even if it didn't last.

The other treated the first course like a cross-examination... peppering him with questions about his divorce, his goals, and whether he was serious about commitment.

He picked up the check and found the back door without a word.

Meredith reached out last month, an unexpected text expressing sympathy about the divorce, and asking if he'd like to grab coffee sometime. He didn't immediately say yes, but after a few phone discussions, he agreed.

He was single. One coffee wasn't a promise.

So, here he was, dressed casually, for a coffee date, except, for some nagging reason, the phrase beware the ides of march, came to mind. He adjusted his watch and pushed open the door, the brass bell above announcing his arrival with cheerful ignorance of his unease.

The cafe smelled like cinnamon and roasted beans. Warm, familiar, safe. None of which matched the knots in his stomach.

She smiled when she saw him, not predatory, not desperate, just... normal. It shouldn't have felt rare, but it did.

Meredith waved him over. She wore a crisp white blouse and a soft denim jacket, her hair shorter than he remembered.

She looked relaxed. Too relaxed.

Like this was just coffee.

Like it wasn't the first time he'd shown up somewhere unsure if he still belonged.

Chapter 08 | The New Voice

Saturday May 3 2025 | 10 PM | 150 Followers

Giulia stood and stretched from fingertips to toes, her muscles stiff from hours spent answering comment after comment, each one a confession more raw than the last.

Women sharing stories of near misses, of marriages saved at the brink... of regrets that mirrored her own. Women reaching out from places of shame, heartbreak, and hard-won wisdom. Some as young as 19, who'd fallen for the same hollow promises of modern feminism, who'd traded real love for false freedom.

One woman had written,"I ruined everything, and I don't know how to live with myself."

Giulia's reply was quiet but certain:"You don't have to live with the guilt. You have to live through it. That's the real work, and the braver one."

She responded late into the night, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she turned her pain into purpose.

Her April interview with Jon's mother Elle, became the cornerstone of a new blog series: Silent Truths.

A space for women to share their stories without shame. Now, emails poured in weekly from women hoping to be next.

One comment had 112 likes already. It simply read:"I thought I was alone. Thank you for proving I'm not."

Giulia blinked back unexpected tears, not from sadness this time, but from something dangerously close to hope.

Her platform was becoming a sanctuary... for women who saw commitment not as surrender, but as strength.

Tomorrow, she'd interview a woman whose story made her stomach hurt... and her fingers itch to type.

She rubbed her neck. The laptop screen was the only light left... a quiet beacon in the dark.

Chapter 09 | Borrowed Bed

Friday May 16 2025 | 8 PM

"How the hell did I end up here?" Tony thought, fumbling with his collar, feeling like a stranger in his own house, and even more so in his own skin.

The separation and divorce had reshaped him, hardened muscle and resolve alike, but some changes still caught him off guard. Like, the way his wedding ring left a phantom pressure on his finger.

He watched his reflection as he tucked in his shirt. The last year had silvered his temples a bit and carved deeper lines around his eyes, but overall, the man staring back at him looked stronger, leaner... grief and regular workouts had sculpted him into someone new. Someone single.

The cologne he chose wasn't his usual brand. That one still reminded him too much of Julie, of mornings when she'd bury her face in his neck, breathing him in. This scent was different. New. Like everything else in his life now.

He washed his hands one last time, then grabbed a jacket before making his way down to the carport. He had agreed to meet Meredith at a local restaurant. Somehow, this would be their third date.

Meredith had emerged from the wreckage of his marriage like an unexpected lifeline, first with those damning videos, then with coffee dates that somehow developed into dinner plans. At thirty-two, she represented everything he shouldn't want... too young, too eager. Yet here he was, preparing to meet her.

Tony shook his head. Meredith was an attractive woman, her long dark hair a distinct contrast to Julie's lighter tones. She was an excellent conversationalist, and they made eash other laugh... but at fifty-seven, what could he really offer a thirty-two-year-old woman looking for her next step? There's no way this was serious. Maybe she just wanted something different before settling down. Yea, that was it... he was the transition guy.

Meredith stood waiting outside, wrapped in a fire-engine red dress that demanded attention, the polar opposite of Julie's quiet elegance. Her dark hair cascading wildly past her shoulders, and Tony couldn't help but notice how deliberately different she was from the woman he'd loved for thirty-five years.

Her laugh came easily throughout dinner, her touches even easier... fingers brushing his hand, lingering on his arm. Each contact sent conflicting signals through his nervous system... pleasure warring with guilt, desire tangling with doubt.

When she pulled him onto the dance floor later, her body moving against his with unmistakable intention, Tony couldn't help but to feel his body responding. As her hips swayed against his, Tony couldn't shake the feeling that he was reading from the wrong script, playing a part in someone else's story.

He was old enough to know better than to mistake attention for connection, desire for love. Yet here he was, dancing with a woman half his age, trying to convince himself that this was what moving on looked like.

******

They ended the night at the lake house, her hands caressing his thigh as he drove. The darkness beyond the headlights matched his swirling thoughts... anticipation mingled with an undercurrent of uncertainty.

Once inside, Tony forgot all thoughts of coffee, or anything else, when Meredith turned in front of him, graceful and sure, her dress slipping down her body and pooling at her feet like a secret revealed. He admired her as she stood before him, hands on her hips, all curves and confidence.

He didn't move at first. Just watched her, the heat rising behind his ribs slow and deliberate, like something he hadn't felt in years was waking up.

She recognized the desire in his eyes as she stepped forward and drew his head closer with a fingertip. His lips sensing her warmth before they touched. Soft and insistent, nothing like the familiar dance he'd known for decades. Tony let sensation override all thought... feeling her fingers tracing new paths across his skin as his clothing gave way to touch.

He pulled her in tighter as their tongues playfully joined their dance.

Meredith shifted his body towards the interior of the house and pushed him down on the couch.

The couch that once held quiet rituals now bore the weight of something louder... and emptier. He watched as Meredith moved with practiced ease, each touch precisely calculated, drawing him deeper into the moment.

He barely had time to register the condom being placed before she straddled his body, pushed her thong to the side and slid her hips down to meet his. With their bodies joined, her satisfied sigh echoed through rooms that had known only silence for too long.

She closed her eyes and laid her forehead to his.

"This one's for you," she whispered, nibbling his ear, but the words felt hollow against his skin. Her movements were skilled, deliberate... a dance he knew the steps to but couldn't quite feel the rhythm of. His hands found her hips. Steady hands, unsure heart.

Meredith rode him with confidence, her rhythm slow and deliberate, her body so different from Julie's. Tony's hand instinctively sought the small of her back, only to find it missing that familiar dip, that groove he once traced every night before sleep.

"Let me know when you get close. I want you in my mouth." She breathed.

Time blurred, pleasure building like waves against a shoreline, until release came like absolution... temporary, fleeting, leaving him with more questions than answers.

******

Tony woke to unfamiliar warmth beside him, daylight streaming through windows that recently greeted him alone.

Meredith's dark hair spilled across his pillow, her breathing soft and steady in sleep. The light scent of jasmine and vanilla filled his nostrils.

The torn condom wrappers on the night table testified to a night of pleasure, but not connection.

He enjoyed how their bodies had moved together with practiced ease. Her smooth transition between aggressor and submissive impressed him, allowing him to please her.

But it felt distant now, like a dream that loses its edges in morning light. Something essential had been missing... the intimacy that comes from years of knowing someone's rhythms, their silent languages.

He studied her peaceful face. He felt the hollow ache of trying to fill one absence with another's presence.

Pleasure had come easy. Connection had not. He hadn't shared a bed, he'd borrowed one. And like anything borrowed, it came with the knowledge that it would never be truly his.

As he watched shadows play across Meredith's bare shoulder, Tony realized that while his body had found release in her arms, his heart remained stubbornly anchored to memories of another woman's touch, another woman's laugh, another woman's way of making this bed feel like home.

Before Meredith, he tried to ease back into the dating pool. But the dates only proved to him he was out of touch with his own needs and wants, let alone in understanding the expectations of modern women.

As Tony remained lost in thought, staring up at the ceiling, Meredith opened her eyes.

She lay still in the unfamiliar bed, watching early light paint patterns across the lake house ceiling. A satisfied smile played at her lips as fragments of the night drifted through her consciousness. Her body hummed with pleasant aftershocks, muscles carrying a sweet soreness that reminded her of every moment they'd shared.

She'd approached the evening with careful expectations, her experiences having taught her to guard herself against disappointment. But Tony had surprised her at every turn.

Dinner had flowed with an ease she hadn't expected, his attention focused and genuine in a way that made her feel truly seen. The dancing had awakened something primal between them, yet even then, he'd maintained a gentleness that spoke of deep respect.

What struck her most was his patience, the way he'd read her cues and responded to her needs without demanding or rushing. In their most intimate moments, he'd shown a selflessness that stood in stark contrast to the younger men she'd known... men who treated pleasure like a race to be won rather than a dance to be shared.

She shifted slightly, savoring the lingering sensitivity of her skin, the echo of a night where she'd finally let her guard down, safe for the first time in years.

Tony had created a space where trust came naturally, where vulnerability felt like strength rather than weakness. Each touch, each kiss, had been an unspoken conversation, a dialogue of desire tempered by genuine care.

The night had exceeded her carefully measured hopes, yet as the morning light grew stronger, something nagged at the edges of her contentment. Perhaps it was the family photos she'd glimpsed in the hallway, or the way Tony had hesitated briefly before leading her to the bedroom... small signs that spoke of a man still tethered to his past, even as he reached for something new.

"Good morning, handsome." She said, bringing her lips up for a light kiss.

"Good morning, sexy," said Tony.

"Oooh sexy, huh?"

"Definitely. You were amazing last night. Thank you."

She looked into his eyes as he spoke. While his words reflected genuine care and affection, his eyes remained... distant.

"What do you say, ready for some breakfast?" he asked.

"Sure." she smiled, masking her disappointment. "That would be great."

As Meredith disappeared into the kitchen, humming something light, Tony sat back down on the edge of the bed. The sheets still smelled like jasmine... and something sweeter he couldn't name. His body was satisfied. His heart wasn't.

The ache wasn't from absence, it was from substitution. And now he knew the difference.

No matter how many beds he borrowed, none of them would be home. That door had closed behind him, and he hadn't yet decided if he'd ever knock again.

Chapter 10 | Simple Gifts

Friday, May 18, 2025 | 3 PM

The knock came just as the late afternoon light slanted across the frozen lake, casting long gold shadows up to the kitchen sink.

Tony almost didn't answer it. Company wasn't something he craved these days.

But when he opened the door, there stood Cassie, bundled against the cold, a familiar lopsided smile on her face, a battered cookie tin tucked under her arm.

Without waiting for an invitation, she stepped inside, bringing with her the warm scent of chocolate, cinnamon, and something else Tony hadn't realized he missed: family.

"Brought you a little something. Don't say I never spoil you," she teased.

Tony grabbed the tin as she slipped off her coat. "Chocolate chip? Or something adventurous?" he asked, peeking inside.

"Double chocolate pecan. I'm experimenting with two kinds of chocolate this time," Cassie said, mock pride in her voice.

"Nice. I don't mind being a test subject for that experiment," Tony said as he pulled her into a hug. "Good to see you."

"You too."

Tony placed the tin on the table and grabbed two mugs from the dishwasher.

"You're lucky," he said, "just brewed a fresh pot."

Cassie popped open the tin as Tony poured the coffee.

They each grabbed a cookie and clicked them together like a toast before taking a bite.

"So?" Cassie asked.

Tony smiled. "I like them. Dark and milk chocolate together... good balance. Hits the tongue in different spots."

Cassie settled into a chair, cradling her mug between her hands.

"So... how's Sara adjusting to the new job?"

"She's good. Stressed, but good. Jon's loving his new position, too. They're starting to sound like one of those sitcom couples, morning chaos, late-night takeout, but somehow happy through it all."

Cassie chuckled. "Good for them. They deserve some positive chaos after everything."

Tony nodded, pride softening the edges of his face.

"And Scott?" Cassie prodded, a glint in her eye. "I've heard whispers... Liv, right? Sara mentioned her."

"Yeah, Liv. She's... something. Seems to make him happy. Which says a lot for Scott."

"I'd love to meet her someday. If she's got Scott smiling again, she must be special."

Tony's smile faltered just slightly, a flicker of emotion he hid behind a sip of coffee.

They sat in a comfortable silence, the smell of coffee and warm cookies softening the surrounding room.

Cassie set down her mug, her voice dropping a notch.

"You know... it's easy to get stuck. Especially when you've been hurt. Feels safer to stay behind the walls you build."

Tony didn't respond right away. His hands wrapped tighter around his mug, absorbing its warmth.

"But walls don't heal you," Cassie said softly. "They just keep you safe enough to survive. Not enough to live on."

She reached into her coat pocket and slid a small card across the island toward him.

Dr. Margot Bowne's name was printed in gold, an elegant script against the cream stock.

"Thought maybe... you could use a hand taking some of those bricks down."

Tony stared at the card. He wasn't ready to bleed for a stranger. But he was tired of bleeding alone.

Cassie didn't push. She just leaned back in her chair, giving him space.

He picked up the card, turning it over once before asking, "Isn't this who Julie's seeing? Wouldn't that make it... strange?"

"First off, she's back to calling herself Giulia. Second, she doesn't know. And Margot? Margot doesn't care... divorced, married, grieving, stuck. She's there for the mess."

Her voice softened. "I just want you to have all the options you need to heal. Married or divorced, Tony, I still love you."

A long beat.

Tony nodded slowly. "Thanks, Cass. I appreciate it."

He set the card next to the cookie tin and grabbed another cookie, the conversation shifting back to safer ground, plans for spring, memories of old family parties, jokes about how stubborn the Williams men could be.

The afternoon slipped by in a slow, comfortable rhythm, like old songs you don't realize you missed until you hear them again.

Later, when Tony walked her to the door, Cassie pulled him into another hug, squeezing his shoulder with sisterly affection.

"You sure you don't want to stay for dinner?"

"No thanks," Cassie said, laughing. "Traffic on the bridges and the LIE will be hell if I wait any longer."

Before stepping into the cold, she leaned in close.

"You're stronger than you think, Tony. Don't let pride tell you otherwise."

Tony smiled, a real one this time, as she disappeared down the steps, the door clicking softly shut behind her.

He lingered at the counter afterward, the smell of cookies still hanging in the warm kitchen air.

The card from Dr. Bowne rested quietly beside the half-eaten cookie, waiting.

Chapter 11 | Truth Finds Followers

Tuesday July 1 2025 | 10 PM | 500 Followers

Sixteen weekly blog posts and one interview later, Giulia's new site was thriving. Gone were the polished lifestyle pieces that had once built her career.

Women loved her new voice. Direct, vulnerable, sometimes brutally honest.

They weren't chasing validation anymore. They were searching for the truth.

And Giulia's truth was sharp, unflinching, and their own.

The comments came daily now:

"Your words saved my marriage..."

"I was heading down the same path..."

"Thank you for showing me what I could have lost..."

Discussions in the forum were lively and supportive. Each message felt like a small redemption.

In one thread titled "When I Nearly Walked Out," a 41-year-old woman wrote:

"I told myself I deserved more. But your post helped me see I never even tried to protect what I had. Last night, I apologized to my husband. Not for wanting more, but for believing I could find it by walking away."

Another user replied:

"Same here. I used to think 'freedom' meant not having to explain myself. Now I think it means being brave enough to try again."

Giulia read their words slowly, her hand drifting to the teacup beside her. Cold now, but no less grounding.

The only sound was the low hum of her laptop, and the fluttering moth, tapping like a ghost against the screen. Outside, the crickets sang into the night, oblivious to her ache.

Earlier in their marriage, Tony had always been her first reader, the one whose opinion mattered most. Now, staring at her blog's comment section, she felt the hollow echo of that lost connection.

Strangers praised her honesty.

But the one person she still ached to reach... might never read her words at all.

Chapter 12 | The Natural End

Friday June 25 2025 | 8 PM

They sat across from each other at a quiet bistro, their third dinner in as many weeks, when they weren't at the lake house, losing themselves in each other.

The conversation flowed easily enough, but something had shifted. The space between them felt different now... not tense or uncomfortable, just... honest.

Meredith watched Tony's hands as he spoke... easy, animated. But the smile didn't reach his fingers.

His wedding ring was gone, but she noticed weeks ago how he'd unconsciously touched that space whenever she spoke of a future for them, or if Julie's name came up in conversation, which it did, despite their mutual efforts to avoid it.

"I think we should talk about this," she said finally, her voice gentle but firm. The setting sun through the restaurant's windows cast long shadows across their table, emphasizing their emotional distance..

Tony's hands stilled around his wineglass. "About us?"

"About how there isn't really a US to talk about." She smiled to soften the words. "And how that's okay."

He exhaled slowly, relief and guilt warring across his features. "Meredith, I..."

"You're still in love with her," she said simply. "I knew that going in. I think I wanted to believe that timing could matter more than history."

"It's not just that," Tony began, but she shook her head.

"I know about your age gap concerns, too. I've seen how you look at me when I talk about wanting children someday. You're already picturing yourself at sixty-five, chasing toddlers around the lake house, and hating it."

She reached across the table, squeezing his hand. "And you're right. That's not the future either of us wants."

Tony turned his hand over, returning her squeeze. "You deserve someone who can give you that future. Someone whose heart isn't..." he trailed off.

"Somewhere else?" she finished. "Yeah, I do. And you deserve someone who makes you forget to touch your ring finger when you're nervous. I'm not her, and I was never meant to be."

They finished their meal talking about easier things. When the check came, they split it naturally, both recognizing it for what it was... their last dinner as something more than friends.

Outside, the summer evening wrapped around them like a gentle farewell. Meredith straightened Tony's collar, a gesture that felt maternal rather than romantic.

"Thank you," she said, "for helping me remember what it feels like to be treated with respect. The right person will appreciate that about you someday."

"If she's half as insightful as you, I'll be lucky," Tony replied, meaning it.

Their goodbye hug lasted longer than expected, but neither pulled away... until Tony kissed her gently on the forehead.

Sometimes the kindest thing two people could do was recognize the space between them for what it was... not a distance to be bridged, but a truth to be accepted.

******

Tony watched Meredith's taillights disappear into the evening traffic, each blink carrying them further from what might have been. The weight in his chest wasn't about losing her... it was the truth her absence made clear, he was still tethered to a past he couldn't release.

The drive home felt longer than usual. His thoughts kept circling back to Giulia. Meredith had seen it so clearly... the way his heart remained tethered to a woman who had shattered their dreams. He recognized the irony... he loved Giulia too much to forgive her, yet couldn't forgive her enough to stop loving her.

******

As she merged onto Route 7, Meredith glanced at her rearview mirror.

Tony stood where she'd left him, hands in his pockets, the wind tugging at his coat. Watching her go.

She hadn't let it show at the goodbye. But now, alone with the hum of the engine and the silence of retreat, the tears came anyway.

She'd known the age gap would be an issue, eventually. But she'd liked the way he made her feel... seen. Heard. Not dismissed or sized up or talked over.

With Tony, everything had felt mutual. The dinners. The laughter. Even the sex was playful, sincere, absent of performance. She could relax in her own skin, not shape herself into a fantasy for men who measured intimacy by how long it took to unzip her dress.

Still, it had run its course. And that was okay.

From Tony, she'd learned something she hadn't realized she'd needed... how she wanted to be treated.

And now that she knew, she would settle for nothing less.

Chapter 13 | Unsealing the Past

Friday June 25 2025 | 10 PM

Stepping into the lake house, his eyes found the envelope on the counter... cream-colored, slightly worn at the edges from months of being moved but never opened. Giulia's handwriting was on the front, as familiar as the notes she used to leave in his lunch, on his pillow, in his briefcase.

November's letter. His fingers traced its edges as he grabbed a beer from the fridge. How many times had he picked it up only to set it down again, afraid of what truths... or lies... might live inside those carefully folded pages?

Out on the deck, he settled into his usual chair, the letter heavy in his hands despite its slight weight. He opened the beer and took a sip as the lake stretched before him, its surface rippling with the evening breeze. The serenity provided by the lake house was exactly what he needed eighteen months ago.

A place to reexamine his life and reset his priorities.

Laughter spilled from Marcus's kitchen window, warm and easy. Glory must be over for the weekend. Tony smiled faintly. Marcus had been alone for years, but he'd found someone. Found something new.

Tony wondered if he ever could.

He studied the sealed envelope, wondering if he'd made the right choice in pushing for divorce so quickly. Had anger and pride driven him to burn bridges that might have been worth saving? Or was this just another form of self-torture, picking at wounds that needed to heal?

She still wrote his name in cursive, the "T" always exaggerated, the "y" looped like a ribbon. She said it made his name look like a signature on a love letter.

He slid his thumb under the flap. The paper smelled faintly of lavender and hope.

Old promises. Older regrets.

Whatever lived in those pages... truth, lies, or something between... it was time.

Chapter 14 | Cassie's Garden

Monday June 28 2025 | 6 PM

It was a beautiful June evening on Long Island.

The forecast warned of next week's scorching heat, but tonight felt perfect, cool, golden, and still.

Since Donovan's passing, these quiet evenings in the garden had become Cassie's sanctuary. Her future had ended in an instant. Julie's was unraveling by inches and echoes.

But loss was loss. And hope... was the cruelest part.

The sound of her cell ringtone cutting through the air left her mildly disappointed as it took her out of her moment. Setting down her garden hose with a quiet sigh, Cassie settled on the weathered patio table.

It was Giulia.

"Hey Sis. What's up?"

"Something doesn't always need to be up for me to call, Cass." Giulia's voice carried that familiar defensive edge, the one that had preceded most of their childhood confessions.

"It does when we spoke and caught up just last night." Cassie kept her tone gentle but firm. "What happened?"

She hesitated. The silence on the other end spoke volumes. Cassie could almost see her pacing her kitchen, wrestling with words she didn't want to say out loud.

"... He's dating." The words fell between them like stones in still water.

Cassie closed her eyes briefly, the words hitting harder than she expected.

Not because she didn't believe it would happen... but because hearing it break Giulia's heart still hurt.

"Jules," Cassie said softly, "it's been eighteen months since the separation and divorce. He's a good-looking man." The practical older sister in her wanted to shake sense into Giulia, while the widow in her understood the ache of watching someone else step into spaces once marked yours.

"Great... Should I set you up with him as well? Do you want a turn in his bed?" Giulia's attempt at sarcasm couldn't quite mask the tremor in her voice.

"Oh my God! Could you?"

"Wha..."

Cassie's laugh held more sympathy than humor. "I appreciate the sarcasm, Jules. But come on, what exactly did you expect to happen?"

"I don't know..." The fight drained from her voice, leaving raw vulnerability.

"You're right. I... thought maybe my letter would at least get us to talk again. But it's been months..."

"What brought this on? Do you know the woman?" asked Cassie.

"Barely. She works with him. We met briefly during a work party, and connected on social media. She apparently loved my first book." Giulia's voice turned bitter. "It was an old picture, months ago, but seeing it still gutted me."

"So, it could have just been dinner, and one picture doesn't mean it's a relationship."

"Possibly..." though Giulia didn't sound convinced.

"Jules, you're going to have to move on as well, you know..." Even as she said it, Cassie recognized the hollow ring of those words.

"Maybe... but not until I know for sure my last hope is gone."

The words hung between them. Cassie looked across her garden and watched a hummingbird hover at the edge of her feeder, its wings invisible with effort. So much beauty in motion... and still, no place to land.

Chapter 15 | Darts

Friday, July 6, 2025 | 8 PM

The old dartboard still hung stubbornly on the far wall of the garage, its faded numbers and cracked wood bearing witness to decades of missed shots and lucky hits.

Scott stood a few feet back, squinting in concentration before letting a dart fly, thwack, landing just shy of the bullseye.

Tony leaned against the doorway frame, a beer in hand, watching his son with a quiet kind of pride. Some things, like the steady thud of darts and the easy rhythm of family, still felt solid. Still felt real.

"Careful with that thing," Tony said, a smirk tugging at his mouth. "Board's older than you... might bite back."

"Figures you'd hang onto a relic. Matches the owner," Scott quipped, grinning as he released another dart.

Tony chuckled. "Hey now. That's family craftsmanship you're insulting."

Scott retrieved his darts, laughing, and reset for another round. The easy banter floated between them, casual and familiar, the way it had been when Scott was younger.

Tony let a comfortable beat pass, then asked, voice lowering, "You and Liv... things getting serious?"

Scott, lining up a shot, nodded. "Yeah. I think so."

He threw. Thwack closer to the bullseye this time.

Tony watched the dart land, but kept his tone light. "Just... make sure you really know each other before you start making big promises. Takes more than a good few months to build a life."

Scott paused, turning to meet his dad's gaze.

"I know," he said. "We're not rushing. Just... feels right."

Tony leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping lower. "Feelings are easy, Scott. When it's good, it's effortless. It's when things get messy, that's when you find out who you're really with."

Scott nodded thoughtfully, weighing the words. He stepped back... took a lazy shot, Thwack landing square in the middle.

Then he said, quiet and steady, "You and Mom were the right choice for over thirty years."

Tony stiffened slightly, surprised. His grip tightened around his beer, his throat working against a sudden lump. He hadn't expected forgiveness. Especially not from his son.

Scott didn't press, just continued, calm, not accusing.

"One mistake..."

He pulled the last dart from the board and turned back to Tony, meeting his eyes.

"It doesn't erase all of that."

Tony held his son's gaze, steady, understanding, not judgmental, and felt the words land heavier than any dart. They settled into his chest, dense and aching.

Scott set the darts down and grabbed his beer again. He didn't press. Just let the truth hang... undeniable, but gentle.

Just let the truth hang there, gentle but undeniable.

"And hey," Scott said, grinning slightly, defusing the moment, "if she drives you crazy again, at least you've got a good arm for dart-throwing."

Tony huffed a laugh, the tension easing just a little, though the conversation's weight lingered between them.

They spent the next hour tossing darts, talking about nothing and everything, favorite bands, bad high school games, the worst pizza in town. Tony didn't say thank you. But he didn't need to. His son already knew what it meant to be forgiven before the apology came.

Comfortable silence and easy laughter threading back into their bond.

Later, after Scott had headed out for the night, Tony stayed behind in the garage, nursing his beer, watching the dartboard catch the firelight.

He picked up one of the darts, balancing it between his fingers.

One mistake doesn't erase a lifetime.

The board was battered.

The numbers faded

The wood cracked and worn.

But it still stood.

Still took every hit. Still stayed standing.

Maybe he could, too.

He drew back his arm, took a breath, and threw.

Thwack.

The dart struck clean and true.

Tony smiled, a real one, and let the night settle around him like a worn, familiar jacket.

Chapter 16 | 3500 Followers

Friday August 29 2025 | 6 PM

Giulia leaned back in her chair as a cool evening breeze floated through the open window.

She glanced at the invitation on her desk and shook her head. Only Em could get engaged in August and have a destination wedding planned for New Year's Eve. In the desert, no less!

Em extended her a plus one, Cassie being the closest thing to a plus one she had.

Which was exactly what she was going to do. Give Cass a mini vacation to thank her, and a chance to mingle with the stars. And hope that Tony would come alone...

Looking outside, the evening's golden hues streamed across her backyard.

Some trees had already begun shedding their leaves. Only the old oak tree held on, stubborn against the coming fall.

Her blog site had been humming. The words came easier, flowing from a place of hard won wisdom rather than defensive justification. She wasn't just telling her story anymore. She was drawing a map... one mistake at a time... for others to avoid the pitfalls that had undone her.

She had outlined her next book; the chapters unfolding more naturally now.

Her posts had been written for women like her.

But the book?

Allowed her to offer a deeper exploration of how modern society twisted feminist ideals into weapons against the very connections that gave life meaning.

Giulia wrote for two audiences now... those still fighting to keep what she lost, and the one man whose love had been freedom disguised as devotion.

Chapter 17 | Three Gifts: The First

Sunday September 8 2025 | 4 PM

Giulia smiled as she tucked away the remaining ice cream cake, her fingers lingering on the freezer door. The day had been good... a testament to how far they'd come since her fall from grace. Her children's presence felt like forgiveness made tangible, each laugh and shared moment another stitch in their mending relationship.

Scott and Sara had changed a lot since her fall from grace. They stepped up and became stronger, more mature... secure in their morals and character. She was so proud of them and their partners.

Jon was her second son, and Olivia was a breath of fresh air. She loved how she and Scott took care of each other. "Bodes well for their future," she thought.

The only dark spot on the day was that Tony was not there. In fact, he hadn't even reached out to her. She remembered birthdays that began in warm embraces and ended with flowers... and other gifts only Tony knew how to give. In bed or in the kitchen, Tony would brighten her day before either making breakfast for the family or going to the diner with the kids.

She sighed as the early evening light filtered through her kitchen window, the early autumn air carrying just enough chill to remind her that seasons will change and life... will move on.

Walking into the living room, she looked up as the doorbell rang. She looked out the front window and saw a delivery man holding a small brown package. She opened the door.

"Evening ma'am. Package for Giulia Williams."

"Yes, that's me."

"I'll just need a signature right there. Fingers are fine."

Julie quickly scribbled her signature with her pointer finger and handed the tablet back.

"Thanks, have a great night."

"Thank you, you as well." she replied.

The package's weight felt insignificant in her hands, but the moment she cut open the box, she caught the scent of anise, time seemed to fold in on itself.

Each Sunday afternoon rushed back... Tony in their kitchen, sleeves rolled up, flour dusting his dark hair as her Nonna guided his hands through the motions. The memory was so vivid she could almost hear her grandmother's delighted laughter at this non-Italian husband's determination to master her secret recipe.

The tin inside opened with a soft click, revealing the biscotti nestled in wax paper, exactly as her Nonna had always wrapped them. Tony's signature dark chocolate drizzle caught the evening light... his one addition to the traditional recipe, the touch that had made her grandmother declare him perfetto with such pride.

The note bore just that single word... Perfetto... She hadn't heard that word spoken in years. Not since her grandmother passed. Not since the last time Tony made biscotti from memory, not recipe.

Her fingers trembled as she traced the chocolate pattern, each swirl a reminder of what they'd built together, what she'd lost.

The coffee maker's gurgle was the final chorus to a song only she and Tony had ever known. Her hands moved automatically, muscle memory born from decades of Sunday afternoons.

She hadn't expected anything from Tony this year. And yet, here it was, her first gift.

Her heart was too full for words. Her thumb hovered over the screen before she tapped out a simple message, hoping Tony would hear everything she couldn't bring herself to say.

♥️

Chapter 18 | Three Gifts: The Second

Sunday September 8 2025 | 9 PM

Giulia sat in her nook and reviewed her latest piece. Her birthday had filled her creative tank, which led to her need to write about her day and her feelings. The blog post offered a fresh perspective on love and life.

Having poured out her soul for the evening, she shut her laptop and called it a night. Tony read her text, but hadn't responded, and that was enough.

Prepping for bed was easier since she no longer wore heavy makeup. Some basic highlights were enough as she grew to like the person staring back at her in the mirror.

Using a second pillow to prop herself up, she leaned over to shut the night light when she heard the familiar ding.

A text!

She grabbed her phone, eager to see Tony's reply, only to find that the text was from... Meredith? They hadn't spoken in over a year. What could she possibly want?

Swiping past her lock screen, she brought up her text app and clicked on Meredith's picture. The text was long. Her hands trembled as she read.

Hello Julie. Or Maria. Or Giulia.

I've hesitated reaching out to you because, in reality; we owe each other nothing. I remember how excited I was when I got the job to work with you. I considered you a mentor.

You had everything that I dreamed of. A successful career, a beautiful family and a loving husband.

Then you shattered it.

I couldn't understand how you could do it. Then I read your blog posts. I must say, your writing is better than ever. I love your new edge. It moves people. It moved me.

I know I said we owe each other nothing, but I have a present for you.

I made good on my claim of meeting Tony after your divorce was final. In April we went for coffee, in May, dinner, and then in June, the lake house.

Repeatedly.

Your X is a fantastic lover. Patient, respectful, kind, and so very skilled. It didn't last, but I now have a real standard to measure my future partner against.

Her finger hovers hesitantly over the link. Then a pic of Meredith's smiling face, holding up two fingers in a V shape, as the blanket and sheets that Julie bought for the lake house partially covered her nude body.

Giulia's phone slipped from trembling fingers, landing soft against the bedding. The room seemed to tilt, her breath choked. The image of Meredith in her sheets... sheets she'd chosen for that bed, for that house, for her life with Tony... burned behind her eyelids.

The lake house represented their future, a place they'd planned to retire together, watching sunsets from the deck well into their golden years. Now it stood as both refuge and reminder, its walls holding memories of a future they'd planned but would never share.

Is this how Tony felt? The thought struck her with physical force. No... that had to be worse. This single photo was nothing compared to the videos he'd received, nothing compared to the way she'd destroyed their marriage with such calculated intent. At least Meredith's cruelty came after divorce papers were signed.

She picked up her phone and continued reading.

So here is my gift... I tried to take him from you.... Thought I'd won. But turns out... his heart was never mine to take.

Happy Birthday...

Giulia stared at those words. They cut, but not in the way Meredith intended. They didn't wound, they branded.

Tony's heart still existed somewhere between the ruins. And somehow, impossibly, she hadn't been erased from it.

She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream.

But mostly... she wanted to understand how she still had a piece of him left.

She thought of the biscotti Tony had left, simple, imperfect, perfect. A breadcrumb back to a life she'd set ablaze, but that still somehow smoldered between them.

Now Meredith's gift cast even that gesture in a new light. He wasn't just being kind to his ex-wife. He was leaving breadcrumbs back to possibilities she'd thought forever lost.

The night pressed against her windows, suddenly too quiet, too empty. She got up, put on a robe and walked back down to the kitchen.

Two gifts in one day, one soft with sugar and memory... the other sharp as glass, wrapped in velvet cruelty.

She reached for her grandmother's recipe box on the back counter, her fingers tracing the worn edges. Inside lay decades of love expressed through food... including the biscotti recipe Tony had earned through patience and dedication. The same qualities she'd failed to appreciate until it was too late.

Or was it? Meredith's cruel kindness had offered something unexpected: hope.

But hope was dangerous.

Hope could break what little remained of her heart.

Chapter 19 | Three Gifts: The Third

Wednesday October 15 2025 | 2 PM

The lake house windows framed the transition from fall to winter each morning as the bright colors fell away, leaving bare branches. Tony had spent the morning walking around the lake capturing shots of the season. Trying to find the last remaining spots for the interplay of light and color. A small beep reminded him he desperately needed to move the raw images from the camera's flash drive to his laptop.

The golden rays of the afternoon entered his lake house's living room. Since the kids celebrated his birthday the previous Sunday, he had the day to himself.

His focus was on the game that he had been playing for the last few months. Having built three bases in three different planetary ecosystems, he completed one of the main storylines and gain the ability to travel across universes.

What he didn't expect was to have to make a game changing decision. The in-game deity revealed itself as a sort of sentient computer program that ran universe simulations in search of... it's true self? It's... perfect self?

It decided that the current universe... was flawed.

The choice that faced him was simple, yet heartbreakingly complex... keep the universe alive as is... or reset it and explore some place... new. Start over...

Christ, even the game was mocking him. Remember or forget, reset or continue... forgive or walk away.

In the year that he had played, he had explored countless planets, built multiple bases, formed connections with in-game characters... all leading to a choice.

While the deity gave him no answers, ‌it was clear this was not the first time the universe had been reset... that he had been reset. All intending to gain another chance to make it right.

Essentially, a second chance.

Wasn't that exactly what Julie was hoping for? Asking for? Not to erase the past, but to carry the lessons learned into a new iteration? Not to forget, but to forgive. A chance to grow from her... flaw.

Tony released his grip on the controller and tossed it on the coffee table. He walked over to the windows facing the lake as the afternoon sun danced across the small ripples. How many nights had he sat on the deck as the lake reflected the stars above... thinking about this same issue?

The doorbell freed him from his thoughts. He walked through the living room and opened the door.

"Afternoon. Package for you. Need you to sign right here."

Tony handed the pen back after signing and grabbed the package. It was heavier than expected. It couldn't be food.

"Enjoy the rest of the day."

"Thanks... drive safe." replied Tony, closing the door.

He placed the package on the coffee table as he got a knife to open it. Sitting down in front of it, he carefully sliced the tape and opened it to find a brick of paper with the words Beta Reader Copy printed in red across the cover.

The title read:

The Cost of Experience: A Journey Back to Truth.

How Modern Feminism Led Me Astray.

by Guilia Maria Castellano

Giulia. The woman who wrote her truth. The one who knew his heart. The only one who ever truly had it. Picking up the book, he found an envelope underneath. He opened it and took out the note.

Tony,

You deserve to see this first. Before publishers, before the world. Every word here is true, the good, bad, great and the terrible. It's not just the story of what I destroyed. It's a testimony to the love I destroyed, and the man you've always been.

I'm not sending this to you for forgiveness or approval. I have no illusions that this will change anything, but you always supported my dreams, and I value and trust your opinion.

I'm sending it because you, more than anyone, have the right to know how thoroughly I understand what I threw away.

Happy Birthday!

- Giulia

Tony stared at the words. The manuscript's weight in his hands felt like more than paper... it was the weight of truth, of confession, of possibility.

The pseudo Deity orb pulsed on his TV screen, its rhythm steady like a heartbeat, demanding an answer.

Reset or continue? Forgive or forget...

Giulia... Not Julie Williams, the American wife who had lost her way. Not Maria Castellano, the writer who had hidden behind a pen name. But Giulia Maria Castellano... the woman who had captured his heart decades ago.

Forgive or forget...

The Deity continued its patient pulse, waiting for his choice...

Reset or continue...

But some decisions couldn't be made in a single moment. He shut off the game system without saving. That decision could wait another day or two.

He picked up the manuscript and flipped the pages as if expecting to see a motion picture illustration play in the top corner, like those old children's books that brought stories to life with the flick of a thumb.

"Well, that's disappointing," he chuckled.

Instead, the rushing pages whispered secrets... Each blur of text felt like a thousand words unsaid. Promises, failures, apologies, all trying to catch his eye as the pages flew.

He moved over to the recliner and flipped the book, landing on the dedication page, and began reading.

To the man who taught me the true meaning of love, integrity, and hopefully, forgiveness.

You once called me your North Star, guiding you through the dark.

But it was you, Tony, who shone brightest when I was lost.

This story isn't just mine... it's ours, and I will carry the lessons of your light until my final breath.

Tony ran his hand over the words, her words, and for a moment, let himself believe them.

Not because he was ready... But because he wanted to be.

Outside, the lake shimmered in the late afternoon light, still waiting, as if holding its breath for the next chapter.

Chapter 20 | The Badlands

Wednesday December 31 2025 | 4 PM

The late December sun cast otherworldly shadows across the Badlands' striped cliffs, their rusty reds and dusty golds creating a backdrop that looked more like Mars than South Dakota.

Cassie was happy to accept the invite from Giulia and wanted to be here for her just in case Tony invited a plus one. She was excited to learn that the destination was actually an active film site for Em's movie reboot.

Her first visit to the desert left her amazed by its desolate beauty. The brilliant colors from the rock formations next to the futuristic buildings transformed the alien landscape into something magical.

She and Giulia walked from the buses, arms entwined. While not a red carpet, she recognized the faces of some famous actors and actresses, all bundled in winter finery against the cold, as they made their way to the reception area, which was apparently a futuristic united nations building.

As they entered, she realized that the building was a massive tent with a transparent ceiling. Strings of lights wove between exposed beams, making the space feel like it floated between earth and sky. The décor incorporated the movie set's alien structures, creating an atmosphere that balanced the otherworldly with the intimate.

Outside, the December wind howled across the Badlands' landscape, but inside, guests shed their formal winter wraps, revealing designer gowns and tuxedos underneath. The contrast between the harsh winter environment and the warm, intimate atmosphere only added to the evening's surreal quality.

The tent's transparent ceiling revealed the star-filled Dakota sky, while outside, strategic lighting made the surrounding rock formations glow like ember-lit sentinels against the darkness. Near the tent's edges, staff stationed portable fireplaces, creating cozy gathering spots where guests could warm themselves after admiring the moonlit landscape.

The contrast between warmth and cold created its own kind of intimacy. Inside the tent, bodies moved closer, voices dropped lower, champagne flowed more freely. Giulia gravitated toward the heating vents, her silk gown offering little protection against the occasional drafts that snuck under the tent's edges.

She nursed her champagne while watching Tony through the crowd, removing his suit jacket to drape it over a shivering bridesmaid. It sent an entirely unfamiliar warmth through her chest... he'd always been the man who noticed others' discomfort before his own.

She kept flicking her eyes in Tony's direction, his silver hair catching the lights that filtered throughout the tent.

When he finally met her gaze, the familiar warmth in his eyes made her breath catch.

He picked up his glass and walked towards her.

"Ciao Giulia."

"Well, he definitely got the manuscript." She thought. "Even though he didn't respond back..." She noticed him raise his glass, so she pushed hers forward. The clinking sound was melodic.

"How have you been Jules?"

"Ok. I've been really busy with deadlines."

"Right, the book and the blog site. Congratulations, by the way. Sara tells me it's becoming very successful. I'm happy for you. Must be so exciting."

Giulia watched him with fascination. He spoke to her so casually, without anger. His eyes seemed alive, unlike the times she had seen him over the last year. "He must have moved on," she thought. "Was the bridesmaid his plus one?"

"Tony!" said Cassie, from behind Giulia, before grabbing him in a hug.

"Cass! It's great to see you."

"Yea, well, this one.." Pointing at Giulia "needed a plus one, but this venue, the whole experience is just amazing."

Giulia visibly flinched at the word experience.

"There's an understatement. Em was never shy about getting what she wanted, but this is above and beyond."

"And Sara looked beautiful during the ceremony. Oh, I need to go. I promised a couple of someones a drink and a dance. Bye."

"Yeah, bye..." said Giulia.

"So, we were talking about the book and the site..." said Tony.

"Right. It's been going well. Advertisers have contacted me about the website, and my old publisher is interested in publishing the new book. I sent you the manuscript..."

"Yes... you did, and I was surprised to receive it." She watched his eyes turn serious.

"I've wanted to reach out, but then I realized I had months of blog posts to catch up on. I actually spent the last few weeks reading everything before I could develop a response for you."

"And..." she asked nervously.

"And... Let's not talk about it tonight. We're on an alien world..." He said, raising his arms out wide. "Let's enjoy this crazy situation. Why don't I come over for coffee in January so we can focus on that discussion?"

Giulia glanced downward, hiding her disappointment, but he was right. "Ok. Well, enjoy yourself with your date."

Tony furrowed his brow. "What date?"

"Um, jacket girl." She emphasized the word girl as she pointed in her direction.

"Oh, you mean Evie, the bridesmaid? No, I'm here alone... she was just cold. But I need to get my jacket back. What table number are you at?"

Giulia stared at him. Her look, incredulous as she couldn't fathom how well he was treating her. "Sorry... table 3."

"Great me too. Do you mind grabbing us another drink? I'll meet you there. If that's ok with you?"

"Uhh... yea, that's fine... Ok." she responded as he turned towards the bridesmaid.

She watched as they exchanged laughs while she gave Tony back his jacket. He was always good with people. She grabbed two champagne flutes from a passing waiter and walked towards table 3.

Tony turned, his breath catching slightly as Giulia collected their drinks. "She looks stunning," he thought.

The dark blue silk gown she wore caught the different angles of light and rippled like water at midnight, flowing over her curves in a way that made his heart ache with remembered intimacy. The silk scarf draped her neck, trailing behind her with each step.

She moved like a Hollywood starlet, luminous, untouchable, heartbreaking.

As she navigated between tables, he noticed other men's gazes following her path, their appreciation both validating and unsettling. Tony smiled despite himself, recognizing the familiar ache of wanting something that was no longer entirely his to claim.

He made his way over to the table just as the lights dimmed and a low-lying fog rose from the main entrance. He sat down next to Giulia as the lights in the room took on a pulsing blue glow. Ethereal music, that he would later learn was the spirit song by Jonna Jinton, set the mood.

The groomsmen, including Scott, entered first, dressed in classic black tuxedos, forming a line on one side of the entryway.

Stephen and Jon came in next and took their place at the head of the line, facing the doors.

You could hear an audible gasp as the bridesmaids entered one by one.

The bridesmaids' dresses had been transformed, simple bases now layered with sheer chiffon and lace that puffed gently before tapering at the ankle.

Soft, purple-colored lights shimmered from beneath, casting delicate patterns that moved across their bodies as they took their places opposite their partners.

Sara followed, her dress echoing theirs in form but glowing with a subtle yellow green hue that marked her as maid of honor. Her smile was radiant as she kissed Stephen on the cheek, then took her place opposite Jon.

Em, however, outshone them all. Her skintight white dress shimmered with confidence, the chiffon overlay alive with pulses of shifting blue light. Her auburn hair was swept into a sleek bun, and above it, a softly lit veil hovered like a yellow halo of mischief and magic.

As she reached Stephen, Em took his hand, and a single spotlight bloomed around them. Their first dance as husband and wife unfolded in quiet elegance. Just the two of them, orbiting one another like it had always been fated.

One by one, the wedding party joined them, followed by the rest of the guests.

For a moment, the world outside the dance floor fell away.

It was nothing short of magic.

The effect of the location, the building, the alien scenery, the cinematic lighting, the dresses... you could easily believe that you were witnessing the marriage between a human man and an alien princess.

The rest of the evening flew by. Dinner was served buffet style, offering various stations with a blend of cuisines, perfect for grazing between seemingly endless dance sets.

Giulia and Tony sat side by side at table 3, but that didn't stop either of them from dancing with other guests. A few admirers lingered. One man asked Giulia to dance more than once, but Cassie, ever watchful, noticed the truth.

Even when apart, their eyes searched for each other across the floor, like magnets pulled toward familiar poles.

But when they danced together, it was different.

Their bodies remembered the old rhythms, the heat of touch, the synchronized sway, the secret language written in years of shared motion. Their movements blurred the line between memory and desire, between nostalgia and something more daring.

Each turn, each brush of skin, whispered what neither of them dared say aloud.

When the cake was cut and Em tossed her bouquet into a riot of outstretched hands, it was clear the night was winding down.

11:30 PM |

As midnight approached, the champagne still flowed freely as the outside temperature dropped.

Guests huddled closer to the heaters, creating pockets of laughter and conversation around each warm spot. Giulia didn't realize she was rubbing her bare arms until she felt the familiar weight of a suit jacket settling across her shoulders. The gesture was so achingly familiar that for a moment; she forgot the past two years had happened at all.

She smiled as his scent enveloped her.

When Em called everyone outside for the midnight fireworks display, they moved as one toward the tent's entrance.

Winter coats were pulled in tighter as the Dakota wind hit Giulia and Tony like a physical force, but the real shock came from how naturally they fell into old patterns, muscle memory betraying carefully constructed boundaries.

Giulia felt Tony's arm slip around her waist, pulling her against his side... a gesture so natural, so familiar, her body responded before her mind could object.

"Just for warmth," he murmured, but his hand spread wide against her hip told a different story. "You never could handle the cold," he said softly, his hands lingering on her shoulders a moment too long.

She turned to face him, not stepping away, letting the shared warmth build between them. "Some things don't change."

They stayed pressed together as the fireworks painted the Badlands in explosive color, the heat between them building until Giulia wasn't sure if it was the champagne or Tony's proximity making her head spin.

She turned her head up. "Happy New Year..." she whispered as Tony's lips joined hers in a kiss.

She didn't know if it meant something. But for a moment, it was everything. That was the danger of muscle memory. It could seduce her into forgetting what still needed healing.

When they finally boarded the bus back to the hotel, the vehicle's inadequate heating system gave them every excuse to maintain their closeness.

Thursday January 1 2026 | 1AM

The bus ride back to the hotel felt dreamlike, the alcohol and the evening's magic blurring the lines between what was wise and what was wanted. Giulia's head found its way to Tony's shoulder, history stronger than pride, his cologne bringing back memories of countless shared nights. She felt his chest rise and fall, matching her own rhythm without conscious thought.

They stumbled into her hotel room in waves of suppressed laughter, neither acknowledging how their fingers remained intertwined, nor how they moved in the familiar dance of a long-married couple navigating a dark space. The pretense of cold weather had abandoned them at the door, yet they gravitated toward each other, drawn by something far more potent than temperature.

They fell onto the bed still partially dressed, their bodies arranging themselves in well-remembered patterns, like puzzle pieces finding their match in the dark, not because they were new, but because they remembered where they once belonged.

Chapter 21 | It's Time

Thursday January 1 2026 | 9 AM

Morning light crept across the rumpled sheets, illuminating the evidence of their restraint: Tony's shirt unbuttoned but still clinging to his shoulders, Giulia's dress hiked up but preserving some measure of dignity, her lipstick leaving crimson confessions across his collar.

They'd stopped themselves... barely... the weight of betrayal and consequence finally outweighing the gravitational pull of thirty years of intimacy. Their bodies had remembered everything... the curve of hip against palm, the exact pressure of fingertips against skin, the choreography of desire they'd perfected over decades.

But memory was a double-edged sword, carrying both the sweetness of love and the bitterness of its loss.

They lay tangled together, neither willing to be the first to move, to break this fragile moment when they could pretend the past two years hadn't happened. The question of what if hung heavy between them, impossible to grasp yet impossible to ignore.

******

The soft creak of the hallway floorboards broke the quiet.

Tony pulled on his shirt and stepped into the hall just as Cassie rounded the corner, a takeout coffee cup in hand and a sly smile playing on her lips.

"Well," she said, lifting the cup in a mock toast, "I'm glad you two finally figured it out, even if it meant I had to sleep in a different room last night. Worked out pretty well for me, actually."

Tony froze, guilty as hell. He opened his mouth, then shut it again, knowing there was no excuse Cassie would believe, anyway.

"Cass, nothing happened... we just slept..."

Cassie's shoulders sagged as she let out an exhausted sigh, then shook her head.

"Oh, for heaven's... You know what... I don't care. You're adults, but you insist on acting like children. What was that all about last night, anyway? Hanging around her... dancing... I saw you watching her as she danced with other men, and how you interrupted when that one guy got too close."

"I... I'm not sure."

"You need to get over yourself. It's been two fucking years... She made a mistake with a younger man, and you divorced her for it. Then you did the same thing with a younger woman."

Tony was about to respond when Cassie held her finger up. "I know what you're going to say... it's not the same... but what you're doing right now is cruel. You're giving her hope... then pulling it from under her. Stop torturing her!"

Tony ran a hand down his face, exhaling through his nose... but he didn't interrupt.

"What? Nothing to say? What are the chances that she's NOT in there crying?"

He wanted to argue, but every word Cassie hurled hit its mark. He had kept one hand on the door and the other on the emergency brake, afraid to go back, too afraid to move forward.

"Exactly... Step the fuck up, or step the fuck out of the way! Make a choice... This hot and cold game... that's becoming the real betrayal."

Tony looked away.

"Oh, just move out of my way." Cassie stepped past Tony and pressed her phone against the door plate and entered the room.

Giulia's red eyes greeted her as the door shut. "I could have been with an actor last night," she managed, her voice catching. "He was single and so interesting. Instead..." Giulia thrust her open hands up in the air.

The following sob dissolved as Cassie wrapped her in a hug, both women understanding that interesting wasn't what Giulia's heart wanted.

"You were right, Cass... I can't do this anymore," she whispered, the words carrying the weight of both resolution and despair.

"It's time..."

She wiped her eyes.

If he couldn't choose, she would.

End Act 2

NEXT:

The story comes to it's conclusion with Act Three: Paradiso.

******

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