Page 20 of The Gathered Fragments of Us
The pen moved steadily across the page, pausing only when I needed to think about how to phrase something. When I finished, I set the pen down and flexed my fingers. I'd been gripping it tighter than I realized. I read through what I'd written twice, my lips moving silently as I traced each sentence. Thewords looked foreign in my own handwriting, like someone else had guided my hand.
I folded the page carefully, creasing each edge with precision. The paper made a soft sound as it compressed. For a moment, I held the folded letter against my chest, feeling its slight weight, before placing it squarely in the center of Caden's desk where he couldn't miss it.
I bought a last-minute ticket out of Logan and searched for just the right place. Once I found what I was looking for, I went upstairs, grabbed my carry-on down from the closet, and started tossing things in.
The packing felt strange—there was a mix of excitement and terror churning in my gut. What did you take when you didn't know what you were actually doing? Where were you even going?
I pulled out the dress I'd bought last year but never worn—the blue one with tiny flowers. It hugged my upper body and flared out. It screamed “take me dancing!” Today it was coming with me.
My hands moved automatically: underwear, pajamas, sandals. Anything that made me feel beautiful—my makeup, perfume, jewelry—you name it.
I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, looking at the woman staring back. Forty. Empowered. I’m going to own this birthday. And I look fucking good for forty. I deserve to laugh, take joy in my day, and feel free from the burdens of invisibility.
On impulse, I grabbed the red lipstick from the bottom of my makeup drawer. The one I'd worn on our first real date, the color that had made Caden stutter mid-sentence when he picked me up.
The suitcase zipped closed with a satisfying sound. Final. Decisive.
Walking downstairs, I paused at the front door. The house felt different already—I can’t explain it, but it didn’t feel so…broken.Ididn’t feel so broken.
I didn't look back as I locked the door behind me.
By 5:30, I was boarding my flight.
Only a few hours later, I had landed.
Stepping out of the airport into the Florida air, while heavy with humidity, my heart felt light with peace.
When my Uber arrived, I climbed into the back seat. Off to The Setai Hotel in Miami Beach.
This weekend was mine.
And I was going to savor every single moment of it.
Chapter 8: Love, Felicity
~Caden~
I got home earlier than usual.
Meetings had bled into each other with me listening in like a zombie, not offering a single thing of use, until I finally gave up and came home, hoping by some chance I’d get to see Felicity. That maybe she’d want to talk. Or at least argue.
I walked through the door, tossed the mail down in front of me while I loosened my tie. Sorting through the mail, I absentmindedly opened the Visa bill and glanced through it, tossing it back on the table, but then I paused. Picking it back up, I noticed a vendor charge on the bill. Double checking, I saw it was my personal card instead of the corporate card. That's weird. I made a mental note to give it to Lauren to review and deal with.
My stomach grumbled at me that it was time to get some dinner. The house was quiet though, so I knew I would be eating alone. It wasn't the kind of quiet that feels peaceful. Instead, it felt like the kind that comes with an unexplainable foreboding.
Felicity's computer bag was by the door. Shoes tossed to the side. Her car was in the garage, parked next to mine.
Guessing she must be upstairs, I tossed some leftovers into the microwave and made my way to the office to drop off my bag.
That’s when I saw it.
Folded on the desk. My name scrawled across the front.
Caden.
It was in her handwriting.
My stomach turned. I sat down slowly and just held it. No. God, no.
