Today
SARAH
I groggily remembered Cullen telling me he had to leave, but I was too tired to fully register it. Something about needing to be somewhere, or a car waiting… or maybe he’d just whispered a goodbye I wasn’t ready to hear.
It all came back to me the next morning. Because after that exquisite, wonderful orgasm he gave me, he’d pulled me into his arms and I’d fallen asleep right there, cradled against him. That must’ve been when he left. When I woke up, the bed felt big again. Empty. But I could still feel him in the room, still smell him on my skin, in the sheets, in the air.
I didn’t know what he wore when he left. And a part of me was scared for him
. Had he gotten out safely?
It’s not like I could just walk up to my dad at breakfast and say, Hey, did anyone suspicious try to leave the estate last night?
So I used what I had. I have Cullen's number now. So I texted:
“Hey, did you get away okay?”
No answer right away. I carried on with my morning routine, trying not to feel nervous, trying not to check my phone every few seconds. By the time I was ready to go downstairs for breakfast, he’d replied:
“Yes, I did.”
Then another message followed:
“I miss you.”
I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face.
“I miss you too,” I typed back.
He sent an emoji, something simple, something sweet. It made my chest flutter. With that stupid smile still on my face, I went downstairs.
My dad and I had breakfast together, as usual. It felt peaceful and warm. Like we were slipping back into something familiar. We didn’t talk about my birthday or what had happened the night before. We just were.
Before we were done and before I could stop myself, I said it.
“Is it okay if I go to the hairdresser's today?”
My father narrowed his eyes slightly, his fork pausing midway. “Why?” he asked. “If you want a hairdresser, we can bring one to the house. Give you everything you want.”
“I know,” I replied quickly. “But I’m so tired of sitting in the house. Maybe I’ll go shopping afterwards.”
He set his fork down, slowly turned to face me. He didn’t speak right away. Just gave me that look, that penetrating stare like he was trying to read the spaces inside me. And maybe he could.
“What?” I asked when my father took too long to answer.
He was staring at me, fork suspended over his plate like he had frozen mid-thought.
“You’re still sick, honey,” he finally said, voice careful, as though trying not to step on a landmine. “The doctors are still....”
“I’m doing great,” I cut him off. “The doctor said I was doing just fine. We’ve even reduced our sessions to once a week. I asked him, and he told me it’s okay to start, you know....living a normal life again.”
My voice was tight, but I meant every word.
“I want to have my life back. I want to go where I want and not just be stuck in this house.”
He blinked at me, stunned. He wasn’t used to this version of me, firm, clear, not asking for permission.
“The truth is…” I took a breath. “I’m just tired of being inside here. You get to go outside. You get to work, and meet people. You have freedom. And what do I do?” I waved vaguely toward the rooms behind me. “I change locations from the library to the living room. That’s my whole day.”
“There’s a vast garden out there,” my father offered gently.
“Yes,” I said, nodding. “In the garden. I’ve walked every square inch of that garden. That’s not the same. I want to go out. Talk to people. Be with people. Just...breathe.”
He was quiet for a moment. Then: “Okay. Let me think about it.”
“I want to go today.”
His eyes lifted, pinning me with a stare. “Today?”
"Yes". After what happened with Cullen yesterday, after what we shared, I felt ready.
When will I ever be ready, if not now?
This man was still my husband. Maybe we were separated, we hadn’t signed anything official, but that didn’t erase the truth. He had given me something I hadn’t had in .....ever: a sense of being wanted, of being alive. And I was tired of letting my life pass me by behind closed gates.
Ronan’s words from last night echoed in the back of my mind. My father is never going to let me go. And I felt He wasn’t entirely wrong about me.
But today, I wanted to push back. I wanted to go all the way. My father rubbed his chin, his gaze narrowing.
“I’m not sure about this. Let me check my schedule, and then maybe we can go together. Make it a father-daughter moment.”
“I want to go today,” I said again, firmer this time.
He studied me. “Why all of a sudden? Why are you insisting on this now?”
His tone shifted, hardening. “You’re not in any position to...”
“I am in every position,” I snapped. “I’m tired of staying in this house. And I’m going out today.”
I didn’t wait for a response. I stood up from the table and walked out, spine straight, heart pounding. I could feel my father’s gaze burning into my back as I left the dining room. But I didn’t stop. Not this time.
I was done waiting to feel. Done waiting to wonder. I climbed the stairs with a weightless urgency, like every step was pulling me closer to something real. Something mine. I walked straight toward my room, not thinking, not hesitating.
When I opened the door, I saw the screen of my phone light up on the nightstand.
Two missed calls. Cullen.
My breath caught. I didn’t question it. I didn’t spiral or retreat. I picked up my phone, opened the messages, and typed:
'I want to see you.'
Then I hit send.
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