Hello Jules
The drive back home was easy, lighter somehow, even though my chest still ached a little. Grief had a way of lingering, but right now, I refused to let it smother me. Not with Larry and Laura giggling in the backseat, already plotting what they wanted for dinner like we hadn’t just visited the heaviest parts of my past.
By the time we pulled up to Rowan’s estate, the twins practically launched themselves out of the car, sprinting toward the front door.
"First one inside gets to pick the movie!" Larry shouted.
"No fair!" Laura squealed, chasing after him.
I shook my head, smiling despite myself, locking the car and following them inside. Rowan must have heard the commotion because he appeared at the end of the hallway, one brow arched.
"Movie night?" he guessed, smirking a little.
"They decided," I said, dropping my keys into the bowl by the door.
"And let me guess," Rowan added, grinning at the twins, "someone's going to bribe me with snacks to stay up past bedtime?"
Larry gave him a mischievous grin. "If you make popcorn, maybe."
Rowan laughed under his breath and ruffled his hair as he passed. "Go set it up. I’ll be there in a minute."
The kids rushed off, their excitement contagious. I kicked off my shoes, feeling that familiar warmth settle into my bones—the kind of warmth I didn't get growing up, the kind I fought to give my kids now.
The evening unfolded into simple, chaotic joy. We made popcorn, real buttery popcorn that Rowan insisted on burning twice before finally getting it right.
The twins piled every pillow they could find onto the living room floor.
We argued over the movie until Laura pulled the classic "I'm the youngest!" card, and none of us had the heart to argue.
We laughed, snacked, rewound their favorite scenes about a dozen times, and laughed some more.
For a while, it was just...peace.
Just family.
I soaked in every second of it, storing it somewhere deep in my heart, because God knew moments like these were rare and precious.
But eventually, the twins started yawning and leaning against us. Rowan carried Laura upstairs while Larry mumbled something about being too old to be carried—right before falling asleep halfway up the stairs.
Rowan gave me a look over his shoulder like, "You see?"
I just grinned and followed them up.
After the kids were tucked in and the house quieted, I slipped away to the small study room by the second floor. I needed a minute. Maybe more.
Closing the door behind me, I grabbed my laptop off the desk and settled into the chair. My fingers hesitated briefly over the keyboard before I took a deep breath and clicked into the video call.
The screen flickered.
The connection was slow—expected in that part of town—but eventually, the video steadied.
The face that appeared on the screen was thinner than I remembered, paler too, but unmistakably familiar.
"Hello, Jules," I said softly, my voice cracking despite myself.
Her smile was small but real.
Weak, but there.
"Remi," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.
God, I missed her. Missed the way she used to laugh so easily, missed the way she clung to me when we were kids like I could shield her from everything bad in the world. Seeing her now, so fragile, so tired—it gutted me.
"You look beautiful," I said quickly, even though the words nearly strangled me.
She laughed softly, a raspy sound, but her face lit up for a second. "Liar," she teased.
I shook my head stubbornly. "Not lying. You’re still my beautiful Jules."
Her eyes softened, shining with something heavier than gratitude. "I missed you."
"I missed you too," I said, swallowing down the lump in my throat.
We talked for a while—soft things, light things. She asked about the twins, about my work, about if I was eating properly. Typical Jules, still worrying about me even from a hospital bed.
"I’m gonna get better," she said suddenly, more forcefully than I expected.
"You are," I said immediately, gripping the edge of my laptop like I could somehow reach through it and hold her hand. "You’re strong, Jules. You always have been."
She smiled, but it wavered at the edges. "I’m tired, Remi. Really tired. This sickness..." She trailed off, voice thickening. "It just won’t go away."
I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood. "You’ll get through it," I whispered fiercely. "You have to."
She nodded weakly, but something about her expression made my chest ache even more. Like she knew something I didn’t. Like she wasn’t so sure anymore.
"I heard about Father," I said gently, changing the subject.
Her face shuttered slightly. "Yeah. He’s dead. Cancer, they said."
"I’m sorry."
"Don’t be," she said bluntly, surprising me. "Mother cries every day now. That’s karma."
I didn't know what to say to that. Part of me recoiled at how harsh it sounded—and part of me understood it perfectly. After everything they put us through, the years of silence and cruelty... maybe karma really had come home to roost.
We sat in silence for a moment, the weight of everything hanging heavy between us.
Then Jules shifted a little in bed, her voice dropping to a quieter, more careful tone. "You know the money you sent?"
I stiffened. "Yeah?"
She picked at the blanket covering her legs. "It didn’t always go where you thought."
I blinked. "What do you mean?"
She glanced up at me, shame flickering across her face. "Aunt Victoria used a lot of it to pay debts."
I felt the blood drain from my face. "What kind of debts?"
Jules' mouth twisted. "Father’s debts. Gambling. Loans. Stupid stuff. After he died, all the people he owed came crawling out of the shadows. Victoria used your money to cover what she could... instead of using it for me."
I sat there, stunned. Betrayal clawed up my throat, hot and sour.
"I didn’t know," Jules said quickly, reading my face. "I swear, Remi, I didn’t know until recently. I thought... I thought she was being honest."
I exhaled shakily, pressing my hand against my forehead. "No, it’s not your fault."
I wanted to scream. To cry. To rage at the injustice of it. How after everything—after cutting ties, after fighting to build something on my own—they still managed to reach into my life and take more from me.
"I’m sorry," Jules whispered.
"You don’t have to apologize," I said, forcing my voice to steady. "It’s not on you."
We talked a little longer after that, softer again, like we were afraid to break the fragile string holding us together through the screen. Jules promised she would keep fighting. I promised I would visit soon.
When we finally said goodbye, she smiled at me, small and real. "Love you, Remi."
"I love you too," I whispered back.
The call ended.
And I sat there for a long moment, staring at the black screen.
Then the sobs broke out of me, harsh and ugly.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
