Page 29 of The Sound of Forever
“Does it hurt?” she asks, tilting her head slightly.
“Sometimes,” I admit, my voice softening. “But it’s getting better.”
She nods, seemingly satisfied, and turns her attention back to the kite. Julianna doesn’t look away, though. Her gaze stays on me, studying me, as if she’s trying to understand more than I’m willing to share.
“Here,” she says finally, holding out the untangled string. “You can work on the frame. I’ll handle this.”
Grateful for the shift, I take the frame from her. The wood is splintered, but the damage isn’t beyond repair. I grab the roll of tape beside Rayne and start patching it up, focusing on each small fix.
“You’re good with your hands,” Julianna says casually.
“Used to be,” I say without looking up. “Not so much anymore.”
“You’re better than you think,” she replies. The comment catches me off guard, but when I glance at her, her attention is back on tying the string. Her movements are sure, methodical.
“What if we buy new string?” she suggests. “We could probably order it online.”
“That’s not what Mom would do,” Rayne interjects, her voice firm.
Julianna sighs but doesn’t argue, letting it drop. The three of us work in silence, the soft rustle of the breeze and the occasional cry of a bird filling the space. When the kite is finally pieced back together, Rayne’s face lights up, her grin wide and unguarded.
“You want to try it out?” I ask, holding the kite out to her.
She nods eagerly, taking it and running toward the open grass near the lake. Julianna and I watch as she tosses it into the air, her laughter ringing out as the kite dips, wobbles, and then catches the wind, climbing higher with each gust.
“Not bad,” Julianna says, a small smile playing on her lips. Satisfied with our handiwork and maybe with the small moment she spent with her niece.
“Not bad at all,” I reply, watching Rayne’s joy ripple through the moment. For the first time in what feels like forever, there’s a faint sense of possibility—fragile, but there. “Maybe we should buy her a new one. Tell her a story she’ll love, something that’ll make her want to replace it.”
“Good luck convincing her.”
“Maybe I’ll try,” I say, a small smile tugging at the corner of my mouth, my eyes lingering on hers just a moment longer than necessary. “After I buy it.”
Her lips curve slightly, a playful glint in her eyes. “You don’t have to, you know,” she says.
“Oh, but I definitely want to,” I reply, leaning just a little into the moment, testing the spark of connection between us.
Her gaze holds mine, and for a moment, the air between us seems to shift, thick with something I can’t quite define. She looks away first, her smile softening.
“I’ll see you around, Julianna,” I say, the words feeling less casual than they should.
“See you around, Keane.”
ChapterThirty-Three
My dearest Julie,
I’m goingto tell you something I wish someone had told me. I want you to know this: you are not alone, even when it feels like the world is pressing in on you from all sides.
Reach out to your friends, family. There are people who’ll be more than willing to help you. The key is asking for help.
The end of a relationship has a way of making you feel like you’ve lost not just the person but also the version of yourself you were with them. It’s disorienting, and it’s painful, but it’s also an opportunity. I know that’s hard to see, but trust me, my love, it’s true.
I’ve never told you this, but your father and I ended because he broke the vows we made to each other. He cheated on me. It’s a truth I’ve carried for years, not because I wanted to hide it from you, but because I didn’t want it to color your memories of him. He was your father, and he loved you deeply, but our relationship was flawed in ways that couldn’t be mended.
When I discovered his infidelity, it felt like the ground beneath me disappeared. I had to rebuild, piece by piece, and there were days I thought I’d never feel whole again. But I did. Not because someone else came along to fill the void, but because I learned to love the person I was becoming in the wake of it all. I learned that my strength wasn’t in holding on, but in letting go and trusting that I could stand on my own.
Being alone after a relationship ends isn’t a failure. It’s not a sign that you’ve done something wrong or that you’re not enough. It’s a chapter, just like any other chapter in your life. And sometimes, the quiet of being alone is exactly what you need to hear your own voice again. To rediscover what makes you laugh, what fills your heart, and what sets your soul on fire.
