The Next Day
After Noah's quiet confession, Riya couldn't stop thinking about him—and about his mother. It wasn't enough just to report the situation to the counselor. She needed to know if the woman Noah was trying so hard to protect was okay too. Maybe she didn't even realize how bad things had gotten. Maybe she needed help just as much as her son did.
So that morning, with the school counselor's support, Riya called home and requested a meeting with Noah's mother. She kept it vague, not wanting to raise alarm. Just said it was about his progress, that she'd like to talk in person.
The appointment was set for 3:30 PM.
When the time came, Riya sat at her desk, nervously thumbing through a stack of notes she wasn't really reading. She glanced up at the clock. Right on time, there was a knock at her classroom door.
She stood as a slender woman entered—mid-thirties, tired eyes, a stiff smile that didn't quite reach her face.
"Mrs. Leigh?" Riya asked gently.
"Yes. You're Miss McKenzie?"
"I am. Thank you for coming."
She gestured to the chair across from her. The woman sat down carefully, clutching her purse in her lap like a shield.
"Is this about Noah's grades?" she asked quickly. "He hasn't said anything was wrong."
Riya took a breath, choosing her words with care. "It's not about his grades. Noah is a wonderful student. Quiet, thoughtful… always puts in the effort."
Relief softened Mrs. Leigh's expression, but only slightly.
"But," Riya continued, "I've been worried about him lately. He's been a little withdrawn. And… he trusted me with something this week that I feel we need to talk about."
Mrs. Leigh stiffened. "What do you mean?"
Riya leaned forward slightly, keeping her tone steady and compassionate. "He told me about some things happening at home. He said your partner's been angry. That Noah's been hurt."
A sharp breath escaped her lips. Her eyes darted toward the window, then back at Riya.
"I didn't know he told anyone," she whispered.
"I think he was scared," Riya said. "Not just for himself. For you too."
Mrs. Leigh blinked quickly, as if trying to chase away tears. "He shouldn't have had to carry that. I've been trying to keep it from him… but it's hard. It's been getting worse. And I've been trying to figure out how to leave, but…"
"You don't have to do it alone," Riya said softly. "We can help. The school counselor's already been made aware. We can connect you with resources—shelters, legal help, child support services. You and Noah both deserve to be safe."
For a long moment, Mrs. Leigh said nothing. Then, her shoulders sagged. "I've felt stuck for so long. I didn't think anyone would believe me. Or care."
"Well, I believe you," Riya said. "And I care."
Silence fell between them again, but this time it was heavy with possibility.
"I'll do whatever I need to," Mrs. Leigh said finally, voice trembling but firm. "For Noah."
Riya reached across the desk and gently placed a hand over hers. "Good. That's the first step."
As the meeting ended and Mrs. Leigh left, a sense of cautious hope followed.
Riya sat back down, one hand on her stomach again, and looked out the window into the quiet afternoon.
One step at a time, she reminded herself. That's how things change.
Two Weeks Later
The school buzzed with the usual end-of-term energy—students daydreaming about holidays, teachers juggling reports and classroom cleanups. But Riya's focus had been quietly locked on one thing: Noah and his mother.
The day finally came with a simple email from the school counselor:
Subject: Update – Noah Leigh
Message:
Hi Riya,
Just wanted to let you know Mrs. Leigh officially filed for divorce yesterday. She's also pressing charges against her husband for physical assault, child abuse, and harassment.
Noah is being referred to a trauma counselor, and both of them have been moved to a safe location through one of our partner organizations. She asked us to thank you again—for being the first person to really listen.
—C.
Riya stared at the screen, unmoving, for several seconds.
Then she slowly leaned back in her chair, a wave of emotion washing over her—relief, sadness, and a fierce pride. It wasn't over for them, not by a long shot. The road ahead would be long and difficult. But they'd taken the hardest step.
They were fighting back.
That afternoon, when Noah came to class, there was something different in his posture. Still quiet, but not as closed off. When he caught her eye and offered a small smile, Riya felt something tighten in her chest.
He was healing. Not all at once. But slowly, steadily.
After class, as he packed his bag, he paused at the door and looked back. "Thanks, Miss McKenzie."
She met his gaze and nodded gently. "You were very brave, Noah."
He gave a small nod in return, then walked out.
As the door clicked shut, Riya sat down at her desk and exhaled. She rested a hand on her belly, feeling a tiny flutter—her baby reminding her it was there too, part of this story now.
For the first time since Justin's death, she felt like she'd truly made a difference again.
Not just by surviving.
But by standing up.
By helping someone else survive too.
And that mattered more than words could ever say.
That Afternoon — Just After School
The school grounds had mostly emptied out, the warm afternoon sun casting long shadows across the quiet parking lot. Riya stepped outside with her bag slung over one shoulder and a stack of essays in her arms, her mind still drifting through lesson plans and baby names she'd scribbled absentmindedly during her prep period.
She was halfway to her car when she noticed it—a black Jeep Wrangler idling just past the school's front gates. The windows were down, the engine rumbling low like a growl, and leaning against the front grill stood a man who looked like he belonged in a biker gang rather than outside a high school.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a thick beard and eyes that didn't blink enough for comfort. There was something about the way he stood there, arms crossed, like he had all the time in the world and none of it for good intentions.
"Miss McKenzie," he said, his voice rough and measured, with just a little too much amusement.
She stopped walking and eyed him warily. "Can I help you?"
He smirked. "Oh, I think you already have. Name's Paul Leigh."
She didn't need him to say it. She already knew.
"Noah's stepfather," she said flatly.
He tilted his head mockingly. "Sharp. Must be all that book learning."
Riya's jaw tightened. "If you're here to scare me off, you picked the wrong woman."
He took a few slow steps forward, hands tucked in his pockets like he had nothing to hide. "You don't know what kind of mess you've walked into, sweetheart. What you did—convincing my wife to file, getting child services involved—you've ruined a family."
"You did that all by yourself," Riya replied coolly. "No child should have to flinch every time someone walks into the room."
His expression darkened. "You think you've won something? You think the courts scare me? You don't know who you're messing with."
"Oh, I know exactly who I'm messing with," she said. "A man who's angry he can't control the people he used to hurt. You don't scare me, Paul."
He took another step closer, now just a few feet away. "Maybe I should give you a reason to be scared."
"Back away from her," a voice snapped from behind.
Paul froze. Riya turned, startled—but not surprised—to see Hank stepping out from the shadows near the faculty entrance, eyes locked on Paul, one hand resting casually near his jacket pocket.
Hank looked like he hadn't moved in hours, like he'd been waiting. Still as a statue. Unshakable. Watching.
Paul scoffed. "You her new boyfriend?"
"Try again," Hank said, his voice low. "Touch her and you'll find out what happens to men like you."
The two men stared each other down, and for a tense moment, Riya thought Paul might actually be foolish enough to try something. But then he chuckled—a short, bitter sound—and backed away, holding up his hands.
"This isn't over," he muttered.
"I think it is," Riya replied, her voice firm.
Paul climbed back into his Jeep and peeled out of the lot, tires screeching.
Silence settled again.
Riya turned to Hank, letting out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "Were you following me?"
"Just making sure you got to your car safe," he said with a shrug.
She looked at him, something unspoken passing between them.
"Thanks," she said softly.
Hank nodded once. "Anytime."
Hank walked calmly to his own car, parked just a few spaces down from Riya's. His boots crunched on the gravel as he opened the driver's side door of the black SUV and slid in without a word. The engine was already running—he never left it off when she was around. Not anymore.
He sat for a moment, eyes on the rearview mirror, watching the road where Paul's Jeep had disappeared. His jaw flexed once, then again. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, once… twice.
Then he glanced into the rearview again—not at the road this time, but at the figure sitting quietly in the back seat.
"Want me to take care of him?" he asked flatly, voice low and controlled. No emotion. Just a question.
The figure in the back didn't flinch. Dressed in black, cap pulled low over their face, they hadn't spoken the entire ride to the school. But Hank didn't need them to. He already knew what they were thinking. What they were watching for.
There was a pause—just long enough to feel heavy—before the figure leaned slightly forward, eyes now visible under the shadow of the cap.
"Not yet," the voice murmured. "Let's see if he's smart enough to stay away on his own."
Hank nodded once. "And if he's not?"
Another pause. Then the faintest curve of a smile. "Then we remind him some people aren't afraid of monsters."
Hank started the drive down the street, quiet and smooth, like nothing had happened. But in his rearview mirror, his eyes stayed sharp. Watching. Waiting.
Later That Evening — Riya's Apartment
Riya locked the door behind her and leaned against it for a moment, letting the silence of her apartment wash over her. Her fingers were still trembling slightly—not from fear, exactly, but from the sheer adrenaline that had flooded her system when Paul had stepped into her path.
She closed her eyes and exhaled.
She didn't want to worry anyone. Didn't want to stir more chaos into the lives of the people who'd already lost so much. But something about the encounter—it didn't sit right. Paul hadn't just been angry. He'd been unhinged. Entitled. Dangerous.
And she knew someone who deserved to know.
Without thinking too much about it, she picked up her phone and dialed.
"Riya?" came a warm, familiar voice after two rings. Justin's mother always sounded like she was smiling, even when she wasn't.
"Hi," Riya said softly, walking into the kitchen. "I didn't mean to call late, I just—something happened today."
There was a pause on the other end. "Is everything alright? Is the baby okay?"
"Yes, yes," Riya said quickly, rubbing her stomach instinctively. "We're fine. It's just… something happened outside the school this afternoon. With Noah's stepfather."
Justin's mother went quiet. Then her voice dropped an octave, the warmth giving way to steel. "What did he do?"
"He was waiting near the parking lot. Approached me. Tried to intimidate me for getting involved in the abuse case," Riya said, trying to keep her voice even. "He didn't touch me, but… he wanted to. He got close."
"Did you call the police?"
"No. Hank was there. He stepped in before it escalated."
Another pause. "He's still watching over you, then."
Riya nodded even though the woman couldn't see her. "Yeah. I think he promised someone he would."
Justin's mother exhaled softly, almost in relief. "Good. I'm glad he's keeping that promise."
Riya walked over to the window, staring out at the dark street below. "I wasn't scared," she admitted. "Not really. I think I've just been through too much to shake easy anymore. But it made me realize how far some people will go to silence others. To stay in control."
"You did the right thing," the older woman said gently. "Even if it comes with consequences. People like Paul… they rely on fear. They feed off silence. You didn't give him either."
"I'm not backing down," Riya said firmly. "I won't let him near Noah again. Or anyone else he thinks he can bully."
Justin's mother was quiet for a long beat. Then: "You're stronger than you think, sweetheart."
Riya smiled faintly, a hand resting on her belly. "Maybe. Or maybe I'm just finally becoming the woman I needed to be all along."
"If Justin were here," the older woman said quietly, "he'd be proud of you."
Riya's throat tightened. She didn't reply—couldn't. But the silence was full. Heavy with everything they both felt and didn't say.
"Promise me something?" Justin's mum asked gently.
"Anything."
"Next time, call the police. And let me know sooner."
Riya smiled. "Deal."
They hung up a few minutes later, and Riya stood by the window for a while longer, the city lights blinking in the distance. Her reflection stared back at her, tired but steady.
She hadn't asked for this life. But she wasn't running from it either.
Not anymore.