The knock came in the late afternoon, sharp and unexpected.
Aria wasn't expecting anyone. Elias had already taken Eli out for their usual Sunday library run, and the house had been wrapped in a calm hush—just the low hum of the dryer, the faint whir of a passing car, and the citrus-clean scent of lemon cleaner hanging in the air.
She wiped her hands on a dish towel, padded barefoot to the door, and checked the peephole.
Rachel.
Aria blinked. Her hand hovered on the doorknob for a beat longer than necessary before she finally turned it.
There she was—Rachel, in her signature oversized sunglasses now pushed to the top of her head, sleek ponytail swaying slightly as she shifted her weight. She wore a casual linen blazer, light denim jeans, and that kind of effortless, put-together energy Aria had always admired and resented in equal measure.
"Rachel?" Aria's voice carried surprise, but not unkindness.
"Hey." Rachel offered a tight smile. "Hope I'm not crashing anything."
"I—no, of course not. Come in."
Rachel stepped inside like someone walking back into a life she thought she'd left behind. Her eyes traveled over the living room, the clean kitchen counters, and the faint mess of comic books still scattered on the coffee table.
"It looks nice in here," she said. "You've made it warm."
"I try."
There was an awkward pause in the entryway—too long for comfort, too short to avoid.
Then: "Want tea?" Aria asked.
Rachel gave a small nod. "Sure. Tea sounds great."
—
They settled into the kitchen, the kettle heating steadily behind them. Rachel sat on the island, fingers drumming lightly on the marble surface. Aria leaned against the counter, arms folded, watching her with a guarded gaze.
"I'm not here to cause drama," Rachel said finally, eyes fixed on the steam beginning to rise from the kettle.
"Then why are you here?"
Rachel smiled, tight and weary. "Fair."
"Go on," Aria prompted, keeping her tone neutral.
"I ran into Elias," Rachel said, tugging her sleeves down. "At a launch event last week. It was brief, but… he mentioned you. The three of you."
Aria raised an eyebrow. "And?"
"It just surprised me, I guess. Seeing him talk about it with—what's the word—hope?" She met Aria's eyes. "Like this wasn't just a temporary arrangement."
Aria's expression didn't shift. "It's not your business anymore."
"I know. I'm not trying to stir things up. I just…" Rachel looked down. "I've known Elias a long time. Longer than either of us probably wish I had."
Aria leaned forward slightly. "What are you trying to say, Rachel?"
Rachel hesitated. "I've seen Elias walk away from a lot of things. Projects, people. You know that. But I've never seen him look like this. Like someone trying to come home."
The kettle clicked off.
Aria turned, pouring water over the tea bags in two chipped mugs, letting the silence settle between them like dust.
"I don't know what this is," she said, placing a mug in front of Rachel. "We're not labeling it."
Rachel took the mug and nodded. "That's probably smart."
A sip. A moment.
"But be honest with yourself, Aria," she added. "Is he here because it's easy? Or because he's ready this time?"
Aria didn't reply. Not because she didn't want to—but because she didn't know. Not yet.
—
After Rachel left, Aria stood in the kitchen, hands curled around the untouched tea. It had already gone cold.
The silence returned, but not the peace.
She sat at the table, staring at the lines in the wood grain, thinking about Rachel's words.
"Trying to come home."
That was the thing, wasn't it?
Elias had been here. Consistently. Helping with breakfast, showing up at school events, and making Eli laugh until he snorted apple juice. He'd been thoughtful, light, gentle.
But showing up wasn't the same as staying. And staying wasn't about being present—it was about being consistent. Honest. Dependable. Real.
Her chest tightened—not from fear exactly, but something close. Something unspoken.
What if he meant it this time?
What if he didn't?
—
The door opened an hour later, followed by the sound of rapid footsteps and a triumphant shout.
"Mom! I got three new books!"
Eli burst into the kitchen, cheeks flushed, curls wild. Thunder dangled from his backpack strap like a loyal second-in-command.
"Three?" Aria asked, turning toward him. "Did you remember to say thank you to the librarian?"
"Of course. Thunder saluted her. It was very official."
Elias followed behind, holding a brown paper bag. "There was a bake sale. Brought you that lemon tart you like."
Aria raised her brows, accepting the bag. "You remembered."
"I always remember lemon tart," he said, voice soft.
Their eyes met—briefly, then deliberately.
"I made tea earlier," she said. "Didn't drink it."
Eli had already flopped on the couch, legs crossed, opening his new books with reverence.
Elias stayed by the kitchen island. "Everything okay?"
"Rachel stopped by," Aria said, watching him carefully.
His face shifted. "Rachel?"
"She said she ran into you."
He nodded slowly. "Yeah. I didn't think she'd… show up here."
"She wasn't here to stir things up. She had questions. About you. About us."
He glanced over at Eli, then lowered his voice. "What did you tell her?"
"That I didn't know."
Elias looked down, jaw working. "Fair enough."
She studied him. "Are you trying to come home?"
He didn't dodge. "Yes."
"Because it's easier than starting fresh somewhere else?"
"No," he said, with more weight now. "Because I still love you. Because I love Eli. Because I want to do this differently. Better. For real."
Aria didn't blink. "That's going to take more than pancakes and comics."
"I know."
"And I'm not promising anything."
"I'm not asking you to."
Her voice dropped, barely above a whisper. "I don't want to fall back into something just because it feels good at the moment."
"I'm not offering just a moment, Aria. I'm offering every day after it too."
A long pause. Then a nod.
It wasn't a resolution. But it was something.
—
That night, Aria couldn't sleep.
The house was still, wrapped in shadows. Eli was curled in his bed, Thunder tucked under one arm, breathing slow and deep. The hallway light cast a soft glow through the crack in his door.
She stood there for a while, watching him. Wondering what the world looked like from inside his dreams. Wondering what he imagined love looked like.
Then she padded downstairs, poured herself a glass of water, and settled into the living room.
One of Eli's new comics lay open on the table: Thunder and the Heart That Glowed.
She picked it up, flipping to the final panel.
There it was—Thunder, drawn with fierce crayon lines, standing between two towering cliffs. The sun was rising behind him in a blaze of gold and orange. His little dragon arms were raised high, fearless.
Beneath it, in Eli's bold, crooked handwriting:
"Sometimes you just have to stand still long enough to let the light catch up to you."
Aria closed the book slowly, hand resting on the cover. Her heart beat a little too fast. Or maybe just fast enough to know she was still open.
Still trying.
Maybe—just maybe—she didn't have to walk this road alone anymore.
Maybe love wasn't about perfect timing or clean starts.
Maybe it was about showing up.
Again. And again.
And seeing what survived the mess.