We Were Never Meant to Stay in Pain

2: 2

The plane broke through the clouds, and I leaned against the window.

My phone had buzzed once right before takeoff.

A message from Brett, sent from that old number of his, the one that had supposedly been canceled long ago.

"Sara, back at the airport today, Elisa was terrified."

"She's timid. She can't take that kind of shock."

"Don't blame her. Back then I forced her to leave with me. She's a victim too."

"Give me half a year. I'll make this right, I promise."

I looked at those few lines on the screen and felt sick.

When word of his disappearance reached the police bureau back then, everyone assumed he'd died in the line of duty.

No body, no note. Just a bloodstained uniform.

I searched the border for him for three months.

It wasn't until Julian had a sudden stroke and ended up paralyzed in bed that I had no choice but to go back to Ashford.

Every day after work, it was the endless routine of turning him, sponging him down, feeding him.

I never once complained.

Because before Brett left, he'd held me and said it.

"Sara, take care of Dad for me. I'll be back soon to marry you."

I got through more than two thousand days and nights on the strength of that one sentence.

Until last month, when Julian, in his final hours, gripped my hand with tears streaming down his old face.

"Sara, stop waiting. That worthless piece of trash doesn't deserve you."

"He's not dead. He took your stepsister and went off to live the good life."

"It was selfish of me. I wanted someone to keep caring for me, so I hid it from you all this time."

I just calmly slid my hand free, tucked the blanket in around him, and watched the line on the monitor go flat.

The plane touched down in Riverton, and I wheeled my suitcase out of the airport.

Nobody here knew me.

I rented a small studio downtown and found a part-time job at a flower shop.

Every day I trimmed stems and wrapped bouquets, and life passed quiet and orderly.

Brett's messages still came through now and then.

"Sara, walked past a jewelry store today and saw a necklace that would look perfect on you."

"When I'm back, I'll put it on you myself."

The photo was of an ordinary silver necklace, the price tag still uncut.

I swiped out of the chat and opened Elisa's social media.

Just an hour earlier, she'd posted a selfie.

Around her neck was a diamond necklace worth a small fortune.

The caption read: "Someone says he's going to give me all the best things in the world."

I looked at that post and tapped like.

Then I muted Brett's chat.

Half a month later.

That evening, I was watering a pot of hydrangeas.

The wind chime rang. Someone pushed the door open.

"Welcome." I didn't look up.

"Wrap me a bunch of red roses."

The familiar voice came from above me. My hand froze on the spray bottle, and I raised my head.

Brett stood in front of me, in a faded, worn-out jacket.

He looked haggard.

"Sara? What are you doing here?"

He strode over, arms out to hug me.

I stepped back and looked at him across the counter.

"Buying flowers? Red roses are a hundred and twenty a bunch."

His hands hung frozen in the air, and something wounded flickered in his eyes.

"Sara, are you still angry with me?"

"I told you, it was a mission. I couldn't blow my cover."

"This time I snuck back just to see you."

He pulled a velvet box from his pocket and pushed it toward me.

"I bought this for you with allowance I'd saved up for a long time."

I glanced at the box.

Lying inside was the very same silver necklace he'd sent me half a month ago.

"Thanks. I don't need it." I went on trimming the stems in my hand.

"Sara, don't be like this." A note of pleading crept into his voice.

"These six years I've been living on a knife's edge every day. I never once slept easy."

"There's only ever been you in my heart."

I set down the shears.

He carried a faint smell of baby powder.

The mark left from holding a child every day.

"You came to find me. What do you want?" I asked, straight out.

Brett was silent for a moment, his eyes shifting away.

"Dad's old house. Could you transfer it to my name first?"

"Something came up with my informant. I need a sum of money to smooth it over."

"Once things blow over, I'll pay you back double."

To buy Elisa a diamond necklace, he'd even scheme over a dead man's money.

"All right," I said, and nodded.