Chapter 24

Viv was reviewing acquisition reports when her phone rang.

She ignored it.

The conference room overlooked the city. Forty floors of glass and steel. Rain streaked the windows in silver lines while executives discussed numbers worth more money than most people would see in their lifetimes.

Normally, Viv found comfort in numbers. Numbers behaved. Numbers followed rules. People did not.

Her phone rang again. Then again. Then a fourth time.

The vibration against the polished table was enough to pull her attention away from the presentation.

Elara.

Four missed calls.

Something was wrong. Viv stood.

“Continue without me.”

Nobody argued. Nobody ever did.

She stepped into the hallway and answered immediately. “What happened?”

Silence.

Rain tapped against the glass walls. Far below, traffic crawled through the city.

Finally Elara spoke. “The report came.”

Viv frowned. That wasn’t an answer. “And?”

Another pause. Long enough to be intentional “You haven’t read it yet?”

“No. I’m at work”

“I have.” The words sounded strange. Not angry. Not upset. Something worse.

Tired.

Viv leaned against the window. “What happened?”

A laugh came through the phone.

Small.

Humorless.

“Avery remembered.”

The hallway suddenly felt colder. Viv straightened. “What?”

“At a grocery store.”

More silence.

“A frozen food aisle.”

Viv closed her eyes. The report. The memory recovery. The life before them.

She already knew where this was going.

Still, hearing it hurt. “What did she remember?”

Elara inhaled sharply. Then read directly from the report. “‘Nobody noticed when I disappeared because nobody was looking.'”

The words hit harder than they should have. Not because they were surprising. Because they weren’t.

Avery’s recovered records had painted a lonely picture.

Work.

Bills.

Empty apartments.

No family.

No friends.

No one waiting for her. But somehow hearing Avery say it herself made it real. Painfully real. Neither woman spoke. The silence stretched.

Finally Elara whispered,  “I wanted there to be somebody.”

Viv rested her head against the cool glass. Outside, the rain intensified.

“So did I.”

The confession escaped before she could stop it. A long pause followed.

Then Elara said something unexpected. “Maybe we should stop.”

Viv’s eyes opened. “Stop what?”

“The reports.”

The answer came instantly.

“No.”

Elara laughed. Not kindly. “See? That’s exactly what I mean.”

“She’s still being monitored for safety.”

“She’s not in danger.”

“We don’t know that.”

“We do know that.” The edge in Elara’s voice sharpened. “We’ve been reading reports about the shelter and notebooks for days.”

Viv’s jaw tightened. The conversation was slipping somewhere dangerous.

“She deserves privacy.”

“She’s alive because we’re monitoring her.”

“No.”

Elara’s voice cracked. “She’s alive because she survived.”

Silence.

Heavy.

Uncomfortable.

Neither woman backed down. Eventually Elara sighed.

“I’m coming home.” Viv said.  The call disconnected. Viv stared at the screen for several seconds. For the first time all day, work felt completely irrelevant.

The estate felt different at night.

Larger.

Older.

Emptier.

Rain hammered the windows as Viv entered through the front doors. The foyer was silent.

No footsteps.

No greetings.

No movement.

Just the distant ticking of clocks. She found Elara exactly where she expected.

The library.

A fire burned low in the hearth. Orange light danced across thousands of books. The report rested on the coffee table.

Highlighted.

Folded.

Read too many times. Elara sat curled into the corner of a leather chair. A glass of wine sat untouched beside her.

She didn’t look up when Viv entered.

“You missed dinner.”

“I wasn’t hungry.” The answer was immediate.

Automatic.

Viv removed her gloves. Set them neatly on the table.

Rain rattled the windows. The fire crackled softly. The library had never felt so cold.

For several minutes neither spoke. Then Elara finally broke the silence. “What happens when she stops thinking about us?” The question hung between them.

Viv stared into the fire. “She might.”

“I know.”

“And that’s her choice.”

“I know.”

“Then what are we arguing about?” Elara laughed. A bitter sound. “Because you always say things like that.”

Viv looked over. “Like what?”

“Reasonable things.”

The answer was immediate. “You always sound so reasonable.”

Elara stood. Wine forgotten. Report forgotten. Everything forgotten.

Except the grief.

“And then I look around this house and I realize neither of us have moved on at all.” Her voice echoed softly through the room.

“The room is untouched.”

Silence.

“The chair is untouched.”

Silence.

“The garden is untouched.”

More silence.

Every accusation true. Every word deserved.

Elara folded her arms. “I was thinking today.”
Viv immediately disliked the sentence. “About?”

“What if we let her go completely?”

Viv’s stomach tightened. “What does that mean?”

“No reports.” Silence.

“No monitoring.” Silence.

“No checking.”

The fire popped loudly. A shower of sparks climbed the chimney.

“And then?” Elara hesitated. Just briefly. Then,”Maybe we move on. Start new.”

Viv looked away. Toward the rain. Toward the darkness outside. Anywhere but her wife.

“Move on.” The words sounded foreign.

Uncomfortable.

Wrong.

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I don’t know.”

The honesty hurt.

Elara looked around the library. The empty chair. The books. The untouched spaces.The ghosts.

Then she said the thing she shouldn’t have. The thing she immediately regretted. “What if we got another one?”

The room went still. Completely still. Even the rain seemed quieter.

Viv turned toward her slowly. Dangerously. The look alone would have made most people leave the room.

Elara stayed exactly where she was. Because she knew the anger wasn’t really about her.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Avery is not replaceable.”

“I know that.”

“Then why would you say it?”

“Because I don’t know what else to do!” The words exploded from her.

Raw.

Broken.

Honest.

For the first time all evening, Elara looked genuinely devastated. “We always lose them. It isn’t fair.”

Silence.

The sentence settled over the room like smoke.
Because they both knew exactly who she meant.

The others. The names they rarely said aloud anymore.

The ones who had left.

The ones who had stayed.

The ones who had died.

The ones who had disappeared.

Years of memories buried beneath luxury and routine. Years of pretending those losses didn’t matter. They did. They always had.

Elara laughed shakily. Tears gathering in her eyes. “Remember Claire?”

Viv closed her eyes. Of course she remembered.

“She hated the gardens.” A wet laugh escaped Elara.

“God, she hated them.”

“And she stole roses.”

“Every week.”

Silence.

Then,  “Remember Sophie?”

Viv nodded.The woman who had stayed. The woman who had eventually left anyway. The woman who had cried when she said goodbye.

“We always told ourselves it would hurt less the next time.”

Elara’s voice was barely above a whisper now.

“It never does.”

The fight vanished. Not because either woman had won. Because neither of them had.

There was no victory here.

Only loss.

And love.

And grief.

Viv crossed the room. Slowly. Without speaking. She stopped in front of her wife. Then pulled her into her arms.

Elara resisted for exactly two seconds. Then she broke.

Completely.

The rain continued outside. The fire burned lower.

The report remained open on the table.

A grocery store.

A frozen food aisle.

One recovered memory.

A woman discovering she had been alone long before she ever arrived at the estate. Eventually Elara’s voice emerged from against Viv’s shoulder.

Small.

Exhausted.

“I don’t want another one.”

“I know.”

“I just miss her.”

Viv tightened her hold. Looked toward the pink empty chair across the room. The chair nobody sat in anymore. The chair neither of them could bear to move.

And for the first time that night, she allowed herself to say the truth out loud.

“So do I.”

The words lingered in the firelit silence long after neither woman had anything left to say. The storm continued well past midnight. Neither woman bothered turning on the larger lamps.

The fire provided enough light.

Enough warmth.

Enough distraction.

Elara had eventually migrated to the rug in front of the fireplace, legs stretched out beneath her, a blanket draped over her shoulders.

Viv occupied the sofa behind her. One hand rested absentmindedly in Elara’s hair.

The argument had burned itself out hours ago. Leaving behind only exhaustion.

And honesty.

The dangerous kind.

“What are we supposed to do with her room?” The question came suddenly. Elara stared into the fire.

Viv’s hand paused. “Avery’s room?”

“There’s only one room we’re both avoiding.”

Viv sighed softly. The room upstairs remained exactly as it had been the day Avery left.

Books on the shelves.

Bed made perfectly.

The blanket folded on her chair.

Nothing moved.

Nothing touched.

Nothing changed.

It had become less of a bedroom and more of a museum. A shrine neither of them were willing to admit existed.

“We should redecorate it.” The suggestion sounded weak even to Elara.

Viv raised an eyebrow. “You don’t believe that.”

“No.”

“Neither do I.”

Silence.

The fire crackled. Rain tapped against the windows.

“I bought new curtains.”

Viv blinked.

“You what?”

“Three weeks ago.” Elara sounded embarrassed. “I saw them while shopping.”

“You bought curtains for a room you refuse to enter?”

“Yes.”

Viv considered this. Then nodded. “Reasonable.”

Elara laughed. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t say it was sane.”

For several minutes neither spoke. Then Elara smiled faintly. A dangerous sign.

Viv immediately recognized it.

“What?”

Elara’s grin widened. “We never got to do the animal costumes.”

Viv closed her eyes.

Of course. Of course this was where the conversation was going.

“We are not discussing that.”

“We absolutely are.”

“No.”

“Viv.”

“No.”

Elara twisted around enough to look at her. Eyes bright for the first time all evening. “Do you know how adorable she would’ve looked?”

Viv pinched the bridge of her nose. “We are talking about a grown woman.”

“We are talking about a grown woman who would’ve looked adorable.”

Elara pointed dramatically.

“I had plans.”

“That’s concerning.”

“I bought sketches.”

“More concerning.”

“I had themes.”

Viv stared at the ceiling. “Please stop.”

“I had a fox.”

“Elara.”

“A rabbit.”

“Elara.”

“A very tiny deer.”

“ELARA.”

Elara collapsed into laughter. Actual laughter. The first genuine laugh either of them had managed all day.

The sound echoed through the library.

Warm.

Bright.

Painful.

Because Avery should have been there to hear it.

When the laughter finally faded, Elara looked back at the fire. A smile lingering at the corners of her mouth.

“I would’ve spoiled her.”

The admission was quiet. Unexpected. Viv’s expression softened. “Yes.”

“I think I already was.”

“Definitely.”

A pause.

Then:

“You bought her a first-edition novel because she looked sad.”

“It worked.”

“It absolutely worked.”

“We never got the chance to give it to her tho.”

The memories came easier after that. Not the painful ones. The small ones. The ordinary ones.

“We never got to play with her.” Viv said.

“Fuck, I was really looking forward to it. It was hard restraining myself.”

“I never got the chance to teach her the orgasm on command. I think she would’ve loved it.”

Elara snickered and leaned her head back. “I think secretly she was a little hornball. I swear she tried to touch herself in the cage a couple times.”

Somewhere along the way the conversation shifted. As it always did.

Toward the future.

Toward uncertainty.

“Do you think she’ll travel?” Elara asked.

Viv considered it. “Maybe.”

“She’s never really been anywhere.”

“No.”

“I’d like to see her travel.” The thought surprised both of them. Elara smiled faintly. “Imagine her in Paris.”

“She’d spend the entire trip in bookstores.”

“Exactly.”

“Then complain about tourists.”

“Also exactly.”

For a moment they could almost picture it. Avery somewhere far away.

Safe.

Free.

Building a life.

Experiencing things neither of them could give her. The image hurt. But not as much as it once would have.

Eventually the conversation quieted again. The fire burned lower. The storm weakened. The estate settled around them. Ancient and patient.

After a long silence Elara spoke softly. “Do you think she’s happy?”

Viv looked toward the dark windows.

Thought about grocery stores. Recovered memories. Shelter rooms. Questions written in notebooks. A woman trying to understand who she was.

“I don’t know.”

The honesty felt strange. But necessary.

“I think she’s trying.”

Elara nodded. As though that answer made sense. As though trying might be enough.

Minutes passed. Then,

“If she never comes back…”

Viv’s hand stilled in her hair. Neither woman moved. Neither breathed.

Elara swallowed. “…I still want her to be okay.” The words sounded like surrender.

Not of love.

But of ownership.

Of expectation.

Of certainty.

Viv looked into the dying fire. Thought about open gates.

Observation reports.

Empty chairs.

Animal costumes that would never be worn.

Commands never been taught.

Curtains still sitting unopened in a closet somewhere.

Then she leaned down and kissed the top of Elara’s head.

A rare gesture.

A precious one.

One reserved for Elara only.

“Me too.”

And for the first time since Avery had left, the future felt less like a threat. And more like something all three of them would eventually have to face.

Separately.

Or together.

Neither woman knew which possibility frightened them more.

——
(Secretly Avery’s the biggest freak of them all.)