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Peace (1)

The house was quiet in a way that felt different now. Not the everyday hush of late evenings after a long day at the office, but the kind of silence that seemed to ask for attention. Olivia sat with it, letting her mind wander down paths she had avoided for too long.

Loss had always been her shadow. She thought of the grandchildren she would never see grow, the bright futures dimmed before they had even had a chance to fully begin. Each little life carved an absence so sharp it could still take her breath away if she lingered too long on it. She thought of her son - the years stolen from them all when he disappeared had been an agony she could barely put words to, and though she had been blessed with the impossible gift of his return, that joy had been cut short. To lose him a second time had nearly undone her.

And then there was Idalia - sweet, sharp, bright Idalia - who should have been part of the family all along. Olivia mourned for the years stolen from them by Maddox’s forced exile. All the holidays, the birthdays, the ordinary mornings in the kitchen that could never be reclaimed. It was unfair. But still, she was grateful to have her now.

Her thoughts drifted back further, to Nicco. She wondered sometimes, in quiet moments like this, in unexpected flashes, how different her story might have been if they had ended up together. Would the sharp edges of grief have dulled, or would fate have found a way to wound her regardless?

She thought of Zack, her best friend, gone so long now but still missed with an ache that sometimes took her by surprise. She thought of her mother, whose wisdom and warmth she still longed for, and of her brother, alive but far away in Philadelphia, his absence no less heavy for the miles rather than death. She missed the feeling of being part of something unbreakable, of believing that family could anchor her no matter what storm came. Time had proven otherwise, yet she could not bring herself to let go of the hope.