The town hadn't changed much.
The diner still flashed its broken neon sign. The church bell still rang every Sunday morning. Kids still biked down the same cracked sidewalks, laughter echoing off weathered brick walls.
But for Opal, everything was different.
She stood on the edge of the driveway, heart hammering. The porch light flicked on. The door opened.
Derek.
He looked older. Not in his face—but in his eyes. More tired. More guarded.
And standing behind him was James.
Taller now. Hair messier. His eyes flicked to her, then darted away.
"Hi," Opal whispered.
Neither of them spoke.
After a long pause, Derek stepped aside. "You hungry?"
The first few days were… awkward.
James barely looked at her. Derek only spoke when necessary. The house felt colder, like all the warmth she'd brought to it had never existed. Like she was a ghost in a place she used to call home.
She tried, though. She helped around the house. Cooked dinner. Asked James about school, only to get nods or shrugs. Derek went out more than he used to. Sometimes he came home late. Sometimes he didn't come home at all.
She caught herself checking the locks again at night. Watching shadows. Jumping at small sounds. But she wasn't scared for herself anymore—she was afraid of making things worse.
One night, James came down the stairs and found her sitting on the couch, staring at a photo of the three of them from years ago.
"Why did you leave us?" he asked.
Opal's throat tightened. "Because I did something… I couldn't take back. And I was trying to protect you from the fallout."
James frowned. "Did it work?"
"No," she said quietly. "It didn't."
He nodded. "You hurt Dad."
"I know."
"You hurt me too."
She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry."
He didn't say anything else. Just walked away.
She didn't know if she'd ever truly get them back.