The next morning started quietly.
Eli was up early, already dressed in mismatched socks and a superhero hoodie that had seen better days. His hair stuck up on one side like he'd had a very dramatic dream. He had a plan: finish his new Thunder sequel by the weekend.
Aria was on her second cup of coffee by the time Elias showed up at the front door, juggling a paper grocery bag in one arm and two steaming cups in a cardboard tray.
"I come bearing peace," he said, holding one cup out like an offering. "Almond milk, half sweet. Don't ask me how I remembered."
She took it with a raised eyebrow. "Because you still have a guilty conscience?"
"Partially. And also because I took a photo of the cup the last time we got coffee together."
That startled a small laugh out of her—quiet, but real.
Inside, Eli was already at the kitchen table, sketching as his life depended on it.
"Thunder's going underground in this one," he explained, waving his pencil like a wand. "He finds a secret tunnel."
"Underground?" Elias said, pulling off his coat and sliding into the chair next to him. "That's new."
"He's hiding from someone."
"Who?"
Eli shrugged, flipping to a fresh page. "I don't know yet. Maybe the fog monster's older sister. Or a robot who doesn't know it's a robot."
"A twist!" Elias grinned. "I like it. I vote robot. You've already used fog monsters. Can't let your villains get too comfortable."
"They never get comfortable. Thunder keeps them on their toes."
Aria sipped her coffee quietly, watching them. There was something achingly easy about the scene. Dangerous, almost, in how normal it looked. How soft it felt.
Dangerous because softness made you forget things could still fall apart.
Late morning, Elias took Eli to the park to "test Thunder's climbing ability on the monkey bars," which, judging by Eli's enthusiastic nodding, was a vital creative step.
Aria stayed behind. The laundry needed folding. Lunch needed prepping. She needed air—just a little room to breathe.
While the pasta boiled and the dryer hummed, her phone buzzed.
Nadine.
She stared at the screen for a moment, debating. Then picked up.
"Hey."
"Tell me you're free this afternoon," Nadine said without preamble. "You've been ghosting me."
"I have not."
"You have," she said, dramatic as ever. "And I'm not even mad. But I am persistent. Coffee?"
Aria glanced at the clock. "If I come by two, does that work?"
"Perfect. I want the full update. None of that 'I'm fine' nonsense."
"Fine," Aria said with a soft smile. "But I'm not promising entertainment value."
"Girl, your life is a season of television. I'll bring the popcorn."
They met at a café near the library, one with wobbly chairs and indie folk music playing softly in the background. The place smelled like cinnamon and second chances.
Nadine already had two cappuccinos waiting.
"You look tired," she said, eyeing Aria over the rim of her mug.
"I'm not sleeping much."
"Is Elias the reason or the cure?"
Aria paused. "Both. Maybe."
"That tracks." Nadine leaned in. "Okay, spill. All of it."
So Aria told her. Not in one long rush, but in pieces. She talked about the mornings—how quiet they felt, like something holding its breath. The comics, the fort-building, the lemon tarts. The way Elias looked at Eli when he wasn't trying to impress anyone. The way he looked at her when he thought she wouldn't notice.
When she stopped talking, Nadine sat back and tapped her fingers against the ceramic mug.
"You sound like someone walking barefoot on glass."
Aria let out a breath. "Yeah. It kind of feels that way."
"Do you trust him?"
She hesitated. "I trust who he is with Eli. I think I'm starting to trust who he's trying to be with me."
"That's… delicate."
"I know."
"And exhausting."
"Also that."
Nadine studied her. "You still love him."
"I never stopped. I just stopped saying it out loud."
Silence stretched between them.
"I'm scared," Aria finally whispered. "That he'll fade again. Not suddenly—but slowly. Quietly. Like before. Like erosion."
"And what would you do then?"
Aria looked down at her cup. "Survive. I guess."
"Thrilling," Nadine deadpanned. "Very empowering."
Aria gave a tired smile. "I know."
"You don't want survival, Aria. You want to be able to learn. That's not selfish. That's human."
Back home, the front door was ajar, laughter spilling out like sunshine.
She stepped inside quietly. Eli was on the living room floor, knee-deep in couch cushions. Elias lay beside him, both of them hidden beneath a blanket fort labeled "Thunder HQ – No Villains Allowed."
Eli's voice rang out. "We need snacks, Captain Elias! Thunder's hungry!"
"Copy that, Commander Eli. Requesting popcorn backup."
Aria stood in the doorway, watching, unseen.
It hit her like a wave—how much Eli laughed with him. How easy Elias was when he let go.
Elias noticed her first. He popped his head out and grinned. "Hey. Want to join Thunder's army?"
"Do I get a helmet?"
"No, but you get full popcorn privileges."
"Tempting."
Eli popped his head out next. "Mom! Come inside! There's a secret tunnel under the blanket."
"Is it a Thunder-original design?"
"Of course. I invented it."
She stepped in, crouching beside them. "Then lead the way, Commander."
Eli scrambled back into the fort with the confidence of someone on a mission. Elias lingered outside, standing beside her.
"You okay?" he asked quietly.
She nodded. "Yeah."
He watched her for a moment like he didn't fully believe it—but didn't want to push.
Dinner came quickly—roasted vegetables, pasta, garlic bread. The house smelled like comfort.
Elias was drying dishes while Aria wiped the counters.
"You talked to someone," he said casually, not looking at her.
"I did."
"Nadine?"
She nodded.
He hesitated. "She still hates me?"
"She's cautious."
"Reasonable."
A silence stretched between them, but it wasn't heavy.
"Aria," he said finally, voice low. "I'm not going to disappear this time."
She paused her scrubbing. "You can't promise that."
"I can promise I'll fight not to. Every day."
She glanced at him. "You're saying all the right things."
"I don't want to just say them."
"Then what do you want?"
"I want to rebuild. Whatever pieces you'll let me hold."
She didn't answer right away.
But she didn't leave the room, either.
Later that night, after Eli had been tucked in—Thunder still clutched in one hand and a flashlight hidden under his pillow—Aria sat on the back porch, blanket wrapped around her shoulders.
The stars blinked dimly overhead.
Elias joined her with two mugs of tea. He handed her one and settled into the seat beside her without a word.
They sat in the quiet for a while.
Then she asked, voice soft, "Do you ever regret leaving?"
His answer came without hesitation. "Every day."
"But you had reasons."
"I had excuses. I thought they were reasons."
She didn't look at him, but her voice was steady. "You left me alone. You let me carry everything."
"I know."
"I was angry for so long. At you. At myself. I still am, some days."
"I'll hold that. If it means I get to be here."
Aria looked down at her tea. "And what happens when the shine wears off? When it gets hard again?"
"I'll stay. I'll fight for it. For us. For Eli."
"Words are easy."
"I know. That's why I'm not asking you to believe them. Just… watch me. See what I do. And when you're ready—if you're ever ready—I'll be here."
She exhaled slowly, her breath misting in the air. "I don't want to believe you."
"I get that."
"But I do. And I hate that I do."
He reached out—slowly, carefully—and let his hand rest on top of hers.
They sat there, palms pressed together, in the quiet hush of almost-truths.
Not everything was forgiven.
Not everything was fixed.
But for tonight, it was enough.