The ride home from church was quiet, but it wasn't the heavy kind of silence I had grown used to. This one felt warm, peaceful—like the kind that settles over you after a deep breath. Josh was dozing off in the back seat, leaning against Emily, who had her eyes out the window, softly humming one of the worship songs. Mr. Philip was at the wheel, a calm smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
I kept replaying the pastor's words in my head—how he called me strong, how he looked me in the eye and said, "God saw you. He still does." Something about the way he said it made my chest feel tight.
When we stepped into the house, the rich aroma of seasoned meat, fresh herbs, and something buttery hit us instantly. The maid had prepared a delicious meal while we were gone—something that smelled like comfort and home all wrapped into one.
Even Josh, who had still been fast asleep on Mr. Philip's shoulder just moments before, suddenly perked up, blinking and sniffing the air dramatically.
"Is that chicken?" he asked, eyes wide. "Or Heaven?"
We all burst out laughing—even Mr. Philip, who nearly dropped him from his shoulders.
The dining table looked like something out of a food magazine—steaming dishes, chilled drinks, fresh bread rolls, and a creamy pasta that made Emily clap her hands in delight. We ate like a family—no rush, no worries. Just full plates and fuller hearts.
As we settled in after the meal, Mr. Philip suddenly looked around, puzzled. "Where's Shawn?"
None of us had noticed his absence until then. Mr. Philip called the maid over, and she gave a small smile as she dried her hands on a kitchen towel.
"He left a while ago, sir. A girl came looking for him—Juliet, I think her name was. He met her during one of his strolls in the neighborhood last week. They were outside talking for a bit, and then he left to escort her."
Mr. Philip only raised a brow slightly, clearly surprised but not too bothered. "Hmm. Juliet," he murmured to himself, then shrugged. "Alright."
Later that afternoon, Mr. Philip called me to the balcony. The sun was beginning to dip, casting golden light over the garden. He handed me a cold drink and sat beside me, not saying anything at first.
"You did good today," he said finally. "I'm proud of you."
I didn't know how to respond, so I just nodded and looked away.
"And hey," he added, glancing at me. "Anytime you feel like talking to someone... I'm here."
I gave him a small smile, the kind that says thank you without needing to speak.
That night, I sat on my bed, brushing Emily's hair as she told me about her favorite part of the service. Josh was already snoring in the other bed, limbs sprawled everywhere like he owned the world.
"I liked the dancing," she said with a grin. "And the singing. And the part where everyone held hands."
"Yeah," I whispered, more to myself than to her. "Me too."
Before I turned off the light, I peeked out the window. The sky was deep purple, stars barely blinking through the haze.
The stars blinked faintly behind soft clouds, like they were struggling to stay awake. The house was quiet, and I was ready to call it a night—until I heard the crunch of tires on the gravel outside.
A car.
Shawn.
I stayed by the window, watching as he stepped out slowly. Hands in his pockets. Head low. Like someone carrying the weight of a long day—or maybe just someone avoiding eye contact.
I walked to the hallway and waited at the stairs. When he finally came in through the front door, I was already standing there.
"Your dad was looking for you earlier," I said, folding my arms. "The maid said you went out… with a friend. Juliet, right?"
He froze. Just for a second. Then kept walking, not meeting my eyes.
"Shawn," I said, blocking his path slightly. "Is she the reason you disappeared all day?"
He stopped. Slowly turned to face me. His jaw tightened.
"Move," he said coldly.
I didn't.
"Why are you mad?" I asked. "Because I asked a question? Or because you know I already know the answer?"
His eyes narrowed, and that flicker I'd seen yesterday—the one filled with frustration and something unspoken—flared again. "You don't know anything, Anne."
He stepped closer, and for a moment, the hallway felt a little smaller, the air a little heavier. "You don't get to stand there and question me like you care."
"I never said I did," I shot back, even though we both knew that wasn't entirely true.
"Then get out of my way," he said, voice low, sharp.
I looked up at him, heart pounding in my chest. "You're angry because of what you said yesterday. Because you opened up and now you regret it. So instead of dealing with it, you go spend the whole day with Juliet and come back acting like I'm the problem."
His face darkened.
"Stop acting like you know me," he said, voice almost a whisper now. "You don't."
He brushed past me, not waiting for a reply.
I didn't stop him.