The Past Refuses to Stay Buried
Audrey slept, but not deeply.
Her dreams were restless—fragmented images stitched together by emotion rather than sense. Ashford's streets bled into Rosewood's cobblestones. Brian's laughter echoed and faded, replaced by the soft creak of Mrs. Edith's staircase, by Alex's calm voice calling her name from somewhere she couldn't quite reach.
She turned in her sleep, the quilt rising and falling with uneven breaths.
When she finally woke, pale morning light filtered through the lace curtains, painting faint patterns on the wall. For a moment, she lay still, listening. Rosewood was quiet in the way only small towns could be—no horns, no shouting, just the distant chirping of birds and the soft rustle of leaves.
She exhaled slowly.
I'm safe, she reminded herself.
Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes and glanced around the room. The modest space already felt familiar—the wardrobe in the corner, her half-unpacked suitcase, the small framed photo she hadn't yet decided whether to hide or keep. The room didn't belong to her completely, but it no longer felt foreign either.
Downstairs, she heard movement. Plates. Footsteps. Life continues.
Audrey dressed slowly, choosing comfort over style. Today didn't feel like a day for pretending to be stronger than she was. As she opened her door, the smell of fresh tea and toast drifted up the stairs, wrapping around her like an invitation.
Mrs. Edith stood in the kitchen, humming softly, sunlight catching in her silver hair.
"Good morning, dear," she said warmly. "You slept longer than usual. I was tempted to let you rest."
Audrey smiled, touched. "I think my body needed it."
Mrs. Edith nodded knowingly. "The heart gets tired too, you know. Even when it doesn't say so out loud."
Audrey poured herself a cup of tea and leaned against the counter, letting the warmth seep into her fingers. Through the kitchen window, she noticed Alex standing outside near the gate. He had his phone pressed to his ear, his posture relaxed at first glance—but there was something else beneath it. Alertness. Purpose.
He paced slowly, eyes moving over the street as if cataloguing every detail.
Mrs. Edith followed her gaze but said nothing.
A few minutes later, Alex stepped inside, slipping his phone into his pocket. "Morning," he said, voice easy.
"Morning," Audrey replied. "You're up early."
"Couldn't sleep much," he admitted. "Thought I'd take in some air."
She studied him for a moment. There were faint shadows beneath his eyes, but no sign of exhaustion—only quiet focus.
They decided to walk through town after breakfast. Rosewood looked different in the morning. Softer. Kinder. Shopkeepers opened their doors, greeting one another by name. An elderly man watered flowers outside his home, nodding politely as they passed.
Audrey felt herself relax.
As they walked, she noticed small things she hadn't before.
Alex subtly shifted sides when they crossed streets, placing himself closer to traffic. His eyes flicked toward reflections in windows, toward corners and parked cars. When a motorcycle roared past too fast, his hand hovered near her back instinctively, never touching, but ready.
"You're very observant," she said lightly, trying not to sound curious.
He smiled faintly. "I've learned to be."
They stopped briefly at a café, sitting outside with warm mugs between their hands. Audrey laughed at something he said, genuinely laughed, and for a moment the weight she carried loosened its grip.
Yet even in that warmth, she sensed it—the feeling that something was approaching, slow but deliberate.
Brian barely listened as Alison spoke.
"You can't just show up there," she said sharply. "You're acting like she owes you something."
"She does," he snapped. "After everything I did for her."
Alison stared at him, disbelief flickering across her face. Everything you did for her?, she thought bitterly. "You did nothing for her" she said
"That's the more reason I want her back," he said.
"You're obsessed," she said quietly. "This was supposed to end already."
Brian grabbed his jacket. "It will. Once I see her."
Alison watched him leave, dread crawling through her chest. She had wanted to hurt Audrey—yes. She had wanted to win, to prove she could take something precious and walk away smiling.
But this?
This felt dangerous.
Back in Rosewood
By afternoon, clouds drifted lazily across the sky. Audrey felt lighter than she had in weeks, even as unease lingered in the background like a distant storm.
As they neared Mrs. Edith's house again, Alex slowed.
"Do you ever feel," he asked carefully, "like the past doesn't knock—it just… shows up?"
Audrey swallowed. "All the time."
He looked at her then, something serious in his eyes. "If it does… you won't face it alone."
Her chest tightened. She didn't know why his words felt heavier than reassurance—but she believed them.
That evening, as the sun dipped low and shadows stretched across the street, a car rolled slowly past the house before disappearing around the corner.
Alex noticed.
Audrey didn't.
Not yet.
But somewhere deep inside her, a quiet certainty stirred.
Something is cha
nging.
And this time, running might not be enough.