บท 3: Chapter 3: Vivi’s POV
Returning to Michigan, I should have felt closure, but something still weighed on me. I'd come back to make peace with the past, yet it felt like the world kept throwing memories in my face, as though daring me to confront them. Here, I had my family by my side, and Mel, my rock through this whole #takeback plan. But not everyone was on board with the idea of "taking back" what was lost.
My aunt, Regina Langston, who's been managing our family's company temporarily, didn't exactly support the mission. She believed in forgiveness. "It's better to let it go, Vivi," she'd say, practically every time we spoke. But forgiveness wasn't exactly on my agenda. Not when the one she suggested forgiving was Ethan. I'd seen his face plastered across tabloids, stepping down from his last job after some government hiccup. Part of me felt guilty for the satisfaction it brought, but I couldn't deny it.
Now, I'm trying to move forward, starting with setting up a new place. Nica had errands to run, so I'd gone solo with Mia, my best friend. We were decorating the apartment I'd share with Nica. At least this was a fresh start in a new space—no ghosts of Ethan here.
Mia hummed, inspecting a corner by the window. "You know, Vivi, this corner needs... something," she mused, a mischievous smile creeping up on her face.
"What, exactly, are you planning?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh, nothing." She grinned. "Leave it to me. You'll see."
We both laughed, the lightheartedness a rare break from the heaviness that always seemed to linger. For a moment, it felt like old times again.
But, like a flickering light, the memories of "what could have been" crept back.
Flashback
Those early days felt so pure. I was pregnant, excited for the life growing inside me, and Ethan and I would laugh for hours as we practiced with dummies and tried out names, even arguing over who would be the "fun parent." Back then, the world felt flawless, and it was easy to believe it would always be that way. We spent hours just imagining—who would the baby look like? Would they get Ethan's sense of humor or my knack for worrying over the smallest things? In those moments, I felt complete, as if nothing in the world could disturb the little cocoon we'd built.
I remember one evening with Mia after a prenatal class. She'd just been promoted, and I was still riding high on the thrill of the ultrasound. I'd teased her mercilessly, calling her the "bestest," which I knew she hated.
"You know that's not a word, right?" She shot back, arching an eyebrow with that playful smugness only she could pull off.
I laughed like a kid, swatting her arm. "Whatever, Miss English Professor! You know what I mean."
In those days, she was my lifeline, the one person who knew all the fears I kept hidden. On those nights, riding home with her, I could let myself dream of the life that was about to unfold—of our children being born close together, growing up as best friends, the kind of close-knit bond Mia and I shared. It was a version of life I still mourn sometimes, even now.
"Viv, snap out of it!" Mia's voice pulled me back to the present. She'd returned with a jug of fresh orange juice and two glasses in hand, her brow furrowed as she set everything down on the coffee table. She sat across from me and gave me that look, the one that meant she was about to shift into therapist mode.
"Alright, what's on your mind?" She asked, her voice soft but resolute, nudging me gently toward honesty.
"Oh no, not today. You know I'm seeing Mrs. Grace for therapy," I said, trying to dodge her probing questions with a half-hearted smile.
"Vivi, stop it. We're talking about this." She patted the seat next to her. "Now, sit."
I sighed, giving in. "Fine. You win." I slumped down beside her, trying to shake off the memories that seemed to linger like fog. "And yes, I'm okay. Better than I thought I'd be, honestly. Coming back to Michigan... I thought it would rip me apart." It wasn't a lie, not completely. I'd brace myself for the storm of memories and regrets. But something inside me was stronger than the sadness I'd left behind.
Mia looked at me with a mix of relief and something like disbelief. "You're actually handling this better than I expected."
I chuckled, shrugging off her surprise. "Thanks, but don't go making me feel like some tragic heroine." I nudged her shoulder. "I'm moving forward, Mia. It's what I need."
Mia leaned back, exhaling a breath she'd been holding. "Alright, tough girl, then I won't coddle you. But one of these days, I'm bringing your goddaughter to see you. She's been asking about 'Aunt Vivi.'"
The thought of seeing Mia's daughter again brought a surge of bittersweet warmth. I hadn't seen her since I'd left, and it was strange how much I missed the little things—her giggles, the way she'd grab my hand and drag me to play pretend in the garden. "Just bring her. You don't need my permission, and you definitely don't need to walk on eggshells around me."
Mia's smile was gentle, but her eyes held that familiar trace of doubt. "You're right. I won't hold back. But give yourself some grace, Viv."
When she left later that night, the silence wrapped itself around me, familiar and heavy. Mia was right—I was handling this better than anyone, even myself, had expected. But there were parts of me that stayed hidden—parts she didn't see. The anger, the hurt, the resentment—those lingered like shadows, woven into the fabric of who I'd become. It had been two years, but the ache remained, as real as ever.
Alone now, I poured myself a glass of wine, watching the deep red liquid swirl in the glass before bringing it to my lips. Each sip quieted the part of me that wanted revenge, the part that wanted Ethan to feel everything he'd put me through, to know the emptiness he'd left me with. Aunt Regina's words echoed softly in my memory: "Forgiveness, Vivi." It was what she'd always preached—her remedy for all life's wounds. But forgiveness felt distant, like something other people did. I wasn't ready for that. And that, I decided, was okay—for now.
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