The hospital waiting room smelled faintly of antiseptic and brewed coffee. Allie sat stiffly in one of the plastic chairs, hands clasped tightly around her phone as her knee bounced restlessly. Raffi leaned on her shoulder, eyes red from exhaustion and worry.
It had been six hours since their mother was wheeled into surgery. Six long, unbearable hours of pacing, silent prayers, and holding each other's trembling hands.
"Everything's going to be okay," Allie whispered, though her voice cracked on the last word.
Raffi nodded against her shoulder. "I know," she murmured, as if trying to convince herself.
The sound of approaching footsteps made them both lift their heads.The surgeon stood before them, mask pulled down, fatigue softening his eyes.
"Mrs. Kelley's surgery went beautifully," he said with a gentle smile. "We were able to remove all of it. She's going to be fine."
For a second, neither sister moved — then both burst into tears. Raffi threw her arms around Allie, sobbing into her chest as Allie laughed and cried at the same time, her body shaking with relief.
"Thank you," Allie managed to whisper. "Thank you so much."
Raffi released her sister just long enough to say, "I'll call Aunt Leila!" before dashing off with trembling hands, already dialing.
Allie stayed behind, pressing a hand over her heart. For the first time in weeks, the weight pressing against her chest finally lifted. Their prayers had been answered.
Days later, after their mom was discharged, the house slowly came back to life.The scent of fresh laundry and soup filled the air. Morning sunlight spilled through the curtains. The sounds of laughter — faint, but real — returned to their home.
Allie made it her mission to take care of everything — cooking, cleaning, organizing, even watering the plants twice a day. She barely let Raffi or Aunt Leila lift a finger. Clarisse visited every few days, bringing food or helping with chores, but she never mentioned Curtis. It was an unspoken agreement — a kindness wrapped in silence.
And Allie kept busy. Always busy.
Because whenever she stopped, he came back.His voice. His touch. The way he'd looked at her like she was the only person in the world.
She couldn't bear it. So she scrubbed harder, dusted longer, rearranged the same couch pillows over and over.
Her mom finally noticed.
"Allie," she called gently from the kitchen, watching her daughter line up throw pillows for the fifth time that morning. "Sweetheart, don't you have to go back to work?"
Allie glanced over her shoulder, smiling too brightly. "Nope! My job said I could take time off to help you recover."
"That's generous of them," her mom said, her tone mild but probing. "But baby, maybe you should go out a little. Have lunch with Clarisse? Get some air?"
"I'm fine, Mom. Really. I want to be here."
Her mom folded her arms, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. "You've been dusting that same shelf for three days. You sure you're not trying to take your mind off something?"
Allie froze mid-motion, duster in hand. "What? No. I just— it's dusty."
Her mom chuckled softly, the kind of laugh that came from seeing straight through her. "Allie, I know you better than that. Talk to me, baby. Whatever it is, you don't have to hide it."
Allie's throat tightened. She turned away, blinking fast — but the tears came anyway.
"Mom…"
Her mom's voice softened. "Come here."
Allie dropped the duster and crossed the room in two steps, collapsing into her mother's arms. And once she started talking, she couldn't stop.
She told her everything.
About Curtis. About what happened between them. About the night she went to him and the money — the desperation, the shame, the guilt that clung to her like smoke. Her mother listened quietly, stroking her hair, her own eyes glistening.
When Allie finished, her voice was small. "I did something terrible, Mom. I made myself… cheap. And I can't forgive myself for it."
Her mother's tears spilled over. "Oh, my love… this isn't your fault."
"Yes, it is," Allie sobbed. "You were sick, and I didn't know what else to do. He must hate me now. I—"
Her mother took her face in her hands, forcing her to meet her eyes. "Listen to me. You did what you thought was right. You did it out of love. And that man — if he's as kind as you describe — he won't hate you. He'll understand."
Allie shook her head, unable to speak.
Her mom smiled sadly, brushing a tear from her cheek. "You know what I think? He didn't just help you. You helped each other. He brought back the old you — the Allie who used to dream, who used to believe in people."
Allie's lip quivered. "Mom…"
"And if he cared enough to help you when you were struggling," her mom continued, "then I doubt he'll turn his back on you now. Maybe it's time to face him. To explain. Not for him — for yourself."
Allie nodded slowly, resting her head against her mom's shoulder. They stayed like that for a long time, until the weight inside her chest finally began to ease.
When they woke, still curled up on the couch, the room was filled with laughter — Aunt Leila, Raffi, and Clarisse had arrived, their voices overlapping like music.
"Oh my goodness, we woke them!" Aunt Leila laughed.
Allie sat up, rubbing her eyes, and smiled for the first time in days. "You all sound like a parade."
Raffi threw herself onto the couch beside her sister, hugging her tight. "We brought food!"
Clarisse grinned, holding up a bag of pastries. "And caffeine."
Everyone laughed, the house suddenly brimming with warmth again.
Later, when things quieted down, Allie pulled Clarisse aside to her room. The afternoon sun poured through the window, catching the tears that shimmered in her friend's eyes as she spoke.
"I told Mom everything," Allie confessed. "About Curtis. About the money. All of it."
Clarisse blinked in surprise, then smiled softly. "Good. You needed to."
"She didn't judge me," Allie said, voice trembling. "She just… listened. And told me to find him. To explain."
Clarisse took her hand. "Then do it, Al. You've been carrying this too long."
Allie hesitated, her heart thudding. "Clarisse… I love him. I really do. And I think I always did."
Clarisse's expression softened. "I know."
That's when Allie's voice turned fragile, almost afraid.
"You know that job offer in Japan?" she said quietly. "The hospitality position I told you about?"
Clarisse nodded. "Yeah, the one you were excited about before everything happened."
"I haven't accepted it," Allie admitted. "I keep telling myself it's because of timing, but… it's not. It's him. Curtis. He's the reason I can't decide."
Clarisse tilted her head gently. "So what happens if you talk to him?"
"If he hates me," Allie whispered, "then I'll go. I'll move on. Start over somewhere far away. But if there's even a chance that what we had meant something… I'll stay. I'll stay for him."
Clarisse squeezed her hand tighter. "Then find out. Don't let fear be the thing that decides for you."
For the first time in weeks, Allie felt like she could breathe again. She knew what she had to do.
That night, she sat awake planning what to wear, rehearsing what to say — the apology, the truth, the hope. And beneath it all, the fragile thought she didn't dare speak aloud:
Maybe, if I can just see him one more time, everything will make sense again.
The next day, she stood in front of the mirror, smoothing her hair, checking her reflection one last time. She wanted to look like herself again — the Allie he first met, not the girl who ran away.
A soft cream sweater, jeans, minimal makeup. Simple, clean. Her heart hammered with every minute that passed.
When she finally left the house, the city air felt sharper, cooler. The walk to KAIA Investments seemed to stretch forever.
She waited across the street from his building, clutching her phone like a lifeline. He usually left around three, headed toward Coppa. She'd memorized his schedule without meaning to.
Every second dragged.Her palms were sweaty. Her stomach twisted.
She rehearsed her words silently. Curtis, I'm sorry. I should've trusted you. I should've told you the truth. The money was for my mom, but what happened between us — that was real.
Then, through the glass doors, she saw him.
Curtis.
Looking exactly the same — neat, calm, composed — but something about him seemed heavier, older, as if the past weeks had worn him down.
She took a step forward, ready to call his name.
But another voice reached him first.
A woman — tall, graceful, familiar. Nadine.
Allie froze, watching from across the street as Nadine stopped him, her hands fidgeting nervously before she said something. Curtis turned to face her.
Then, before Allie could blink, Nadine leaned in and kissed him.
It wasn't long, just a fleeting kiss — but it was enough.
Allie felt the world tilt. Her breath caught, her body numb. The city noise around her — honking cars, footsteps, chatter — faded to a hollow hum.
Her heart cracked open, slow and sharp, like breaking glass.
Tears blurred her vision as she watched them, her hand covering her mouth. She wanted to move, to speak, to say something — but what right did she have?
She wasn't his girlfriend. She wasn't anything. Just a passing chapter — a hired life coach he'd once paid for and outgrew.
Allie turned away, blinking through her tears as they spilled freely down her cheeks. She could taste salt on her lips, hear her pulse pounding in her ears.
And as she walked away, the realization struck her like a cruel truth:
He had never told her why he wanted to change.
And now, she finally knew.
It was never her. It was her.
The girl in the office. The one from the start. Nadine.
Allie ran down the street, the sound of her own sobs drowned out by the rush of traffic — her heart breaking all over again, in the same place it had only just begun to heal.