Chapter 13 \u2013 Ready\u00a0<\/p>\n
SERA\u00a0<\/p>\n
Johnson\u2019s apartment felt like a safe bubble after everything that happened.\u00a0<\/p>\n
I shouldn\u2019t have considered it home, but it was the first place in a long time that I felt wanted, valued and felt like something other than Luna\u2019s mother or Darius\u2018 wife.\u00a0<\/p>\n
I was AJ, and I mattered.\u00a0<\/p>\n
I sat on Johnson\u2019s simple gray couch, my phone buzzing non\u2013stop on the coffee table.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Darius. Again.\u00a0<\/p>\n
The screen lit up with his name for the tenth time in two hours. I watched it ring until it went quiet, then buzz again with a voicemail notification. My stomach twisted into knots every time I saw his name pop up.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cYou don\u2019t have to listen to those,\u201d Johnson said from the kitchen. He was making coffee, the smell filling up the space and making it feel warmer. \u201cNot if you\u2019re not ready,\u201d He added, there was a certain edge to his tone that I\u2019d almost missed, one that had me curious to see his expression.\u00a0<\/p>\n
I picked up the phone and turned it face down before turning in his direction. \u201cI know. I just\u2026 part of me wonders what he\u2019s saying.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cProbably the same thing he always says.\u201d Johnson\u2019s voice had an edge to it that made me look up. He was gripping the coffee mug too tight, his knuckles white. \u201cThat you\u2019re being unreasonable. That you should come home,\u201d His eyes bored into mine, almost as if he was challenging me to prove otherwise.\u00a0<\/p>\n
He was right.\u00a0<\/p>\n
The word \u2018home\u2018 felt like a gust of wind against my skin, a painful reminder of what I had to leave behind just so I could find myself.\u00a0<\/p>\n
I pulled my knees up to my chin and wrapped my arms around them.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cIt doesn\u2019t feel like home anymore.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
Johnson came over and sat beside me, careful to leave space between us. He handed me the warm mug and I took it gratefully, letting the heat seep into my cold fingers.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019ll find you a real home,\u201d he said quietly. \u201cSomewhere that\u2019s just yours, I promise.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
Three days later, we were standing in front of a small house with white shutters, white walls and a dark brown door. The realtor, a woman named Mrs. Chen, was chattering about square footage and property values, but I wasn\u2019t really listening.\u00a0<\/p>\n
I was looking at the little garden in the front yard. Yellow flowers that needed water, a stone path that led to the front steps. It looked nothing like the mansion Darius and I shared, with its marble floors and crystal chandeliers.\u00a0<\/p>\n
It looked peaceful.\u00a0<\/p>\n
I\u2019d already imagined Luna running around in the garden, the sound of her laughter and squeals filling the\u00a0<\/p>\n
1\/4\u00a0<\/p>\n
hapter 11 Ready\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u26ab25 Bonus\u00a0<\/p>\n
neighborhood.\u00a0<\/p>\n
My chest tightened.\u00a0<\/p>\n
I missed my baby.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cThe previous owners loved this place,\u201d Mrs. Chen was saying as she unlocked the door. \u201cThey raised three kids here before moving to Florida.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
Inside, the house was small but bright. Sunlight streamed through the windows, making everything glow. The living room had built\u2013in bookshelves and a fireplace that looked like it actually got used. The kitchen was tiny compared to what I was used to, but it felt cozy instead of cramped.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do you think?\u201d Johnson asked. He was standing by the window, looking out at the backyard. There was a swing set out there, left behind by the previous family.\u00a0<\/p>\n
My throat got tight when I saw it. Luna would love that swing set. She\u2019d beg me to push her higher and higher until my arms got tired.\u00a0<\/p>\n
But Luna wasn\u2019t here. Luna was at home with Darius, probably wondering where her mommy went.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s perfect,\u201d I whispered, and meant it.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Moving my stuff took longer than I expected. Most of my clothes were still at the house with Darius, but I couldn\u2019t bring myself to go back there yet. Johnson helped me buy basics \u2013 sheets and towels and a coffee maker that looked nothing like the expensive one Darius had imported from Italy but would suffice nonetheless.\u00a0<\/p>\n
My phone kept ringing. Darius called every few hours, like clockwork. Sometimes he left voicemails that I deleted without listening to. Sometimes he just hung up when it went to voicemail, like he was hoping I\u2019d pick up at the last second.\u00a0<\/p>\n
I never did.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2019s persistent, I\u2019ll give him that,\u201d Johnson said one evening. We were unpacking boxes in my new living room, and my phone was buzzing again on the counter.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2019s scared,\u201d I said, surprising myself. I hadn\u2019t realized I knew that until I said it out loud. \u201cHe\u2019s scared because he can\u2019t control this situation like he controls everything else,\u201d I breathed, knowing full well that Darius won\u2019t be giving up any time soon.\u00a0<\/p>\n
A quality I used to adore in him but now, it just made things harder.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Johnson looked at me over the box he was opening. \u201cAre you going to talk to him eventually?\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d I pulled out a frame with a picture of Lama from her third birthday party. She was covered in chocolate cake, grinning at the camera with her front teeth missing. My chest ached looking at her little face.\u201d Maybe. When I\u2019m ready.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd when will that be?\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
I set the picture on the mantle and stepped back to look at it. \u201cWhen I stop feeling like I might break if 1 hear his\u00a0<\/p>\n
voice.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
2\/4\u00a0<\/p>\n
$25 Bonus\u00a0<\/p>\n
After a few hours of settling in, the music came back to me slowly at first, then all at once.\u00a0<\/p>\n
I set up my keyboard in the spare bedroom, the one with the best light. Johnson had helped me move it from his apartment, careful not to scratch the keys. It was the one thing I\u2019d managed to grab from the house before everything fell apart \u2013 my old digital piano that I\u2019d had since college.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Darius always disliked it. Said it was too cheap\u2013looking for our house, that I should upgrade to something better. But I loved the way the keys felt under my fingers, familiar and worn smooth from years of playing,\u00a0<\/p>\n
Now, sitting in my new house with sunlight streaming through the windows, I let my fingers find the keys again.\u00a0<\/p>\n
The melody that came out was sad at first. All minor keys and slow rhythms that matched the empty feeling in my chest. I played for hours, losing track of time, letting the music say everything I couldn\u2019t put into words.\u00a0<\/p>\n
But sometimes, when the house got too quiet, the emptiness crept back in.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Without Luna\u2019s laughter echoing through the rooms, without her little feet running up and down the stairs, without her calling \u201cMommy!\u201d every five minutes, the silence felt heavy. Wrong.\u00a0<\/p>\n
I\u2019d gotten so used to the chaos of being her mother that peace felt lonely.\u00a0<\/p>\n
I found myself listening for sounds that weren\u2019t there. The creak of her bedroom door when she snuck out for water at night. The sound of her cartoons playing too loud in the living room. Her voice singing made\u2013up songs while she played with her dolls.\u00a0<\/p>\n
The house felt too big and too small at the same time. Too big for just me, too small for all the feelings I couldn\u2019t\u00a0<\/p>\n
escape.\u00a0<\/p>\n
On Saturday morning, I booked a flight back to Washington.\u00a0<\/p>\n
My hands shook as I typed in my credit card information. Part of me didn\u2019t want to call Darius to tell him I was coming but I knew I had to, so I did.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Another part of me was afraid he\u2019d try to talk me out of leaving again. That he\u2019d find some way to make me feel guilty for wanting space. Still, I got on the road.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Johnson drove me to the airport. We didn\u2019t talk much on the way, but his presence felt steady beside me. Comforting in a way I wasn\u2019t used to.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cCall me when you land,\u201d he said as I got out of the car. \u201cAnd Sera? Don\u2019t let him make you feel small again.\u00a0<\/p>\n
I nodded, not trusting my voice. As the plane lifted off, I pressed my face to the window and watched New York get smaller below me.\u00a0<\/p>\n
I was going home. Not to stay, not to give in, but to face whatever came next.\u00a0<\/p>\n
And for the first time in weeks, I felt ready.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Souls Remember What Matters \u2014 Corey Gibson 13 Chapter 13 \u2013 Ready\u00a0 SERA\u00a0 Johnson\u2019s apartment felt like a safe bubble […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"site-sidebar-layout":"default","site-content-layout":"","ast-site-content-layout":"default","site-content-style":"default","site-sidebar-style":"default","ast-global-header-display":"","ast-banner-title-visibility":"","ast-main-header-display":"","ast-hfb-above-header-display":"","ast-hfb-below-header-display":"","ast-hfb-mobile-header-display":"","site-post-title":"","ast-breadcrumbs-content":"","ast-featured-img":"","footer-sml-layout":"","ast-disable-related-posts":"","theme-transparent-header-meta":"","adv-header-id-meta":"","stick-header-meta":"","header-above-stick-meta":"","header-main-stick-meta":"","header-below-stick-meta":"","astra-migrate-meta-layouts":"default","ast-page-background-enabled":"default","ast-page-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"ast-content-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"footnotes":""},"categories":[59],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-23459","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-the-day-i-signed-the-papers-novel"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/23459","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=23459"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/23459\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=23459"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=23459"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=23459"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}