Natalie POV
Chapter One – Natalie
I was stirring the sauce when I heard the knock at the door.
The kitchen smelled like garlic, butter, and the faint scent of that lavender candle Savannah always liked. I hadn’t lit it in months—not since her anniversary. But tonight felt like it needed a little softness. A little familiarity.
I wiped my hands on a towel and opened the door.
“Hey,” Savannah said with a tired smile, holding Lila’s hand and an overnight bag.
“Hey yourself,” I said. “Get in here before you drown.”
Lila slipped in first, her bunny bouncing along behind her. She beamed up at me. “Miss Natalie, I brought my jammies!”
“You did?” I grinned and crouched beside her. “Well, then you’re staying for a midnight pancake party.”
She giggled and ran to the living room.
I turned back to Savannah. “She staying the night?”
Savannah nodded, stepping inside. “Yeah. I’m going to see Eric later.”
I tried not to react, but I felt it. That small tightness in my chest.
“You sure?”
She looked down at her shoes for a second before meeting my eyes. “I just need to talk to him. Just… one more time. I won’t be too late, but I didn’t want to wake Lila dragging her back and forth.”
“Of course. You know she’s fine here.” I took the bag from her and gave her a small smile. “And so are you.”
Dinner was nice. Warm. Lila made a mess of her pasta and tried to feed me sauce-covered noodles, and for a moment, it felt like nothing had changed. Like the last few months were just a bad dream and everything would go back to normal.
Savannah laughed—really laughed—when Lila spilled juice on the table. I could see the old her peek through the cracks.
After we got Lila ready for bed, I walked Savannah to the door. She lingered a moment, fixing the collar of her coat.
“I’ll come get her in the morning,” she said.
I nodded. “Text me when you get there, okay?”
“I will.”
She gave me a quick hug and left.
Just like that. No dramatic music. No ominous signs.
Just a tired woman going to talk to her ex-husband.
I closed the door, picked up Lila’s bunny from the floor, and smiled. Tomorrow, we’d probably talk about how it went. Maybe she’d cry. Maybe she’d scream. But I knew one thing for sure—
She was trying.
And that had to count for something.
