Page 19 of What Comes Around

I couldn’t let her shape him.

Later that night I went to Evan’s room.

He was sitting on the floor with a small notebook, coloring carefully inside uneven lines, his tongue pressed lightly to the corner of his mouth in concentration.

He looked up when he noticed me, shoulders tensing for a split second before he recognized me.

“Hi,” he said softly, almost like a question.

I stepped inside and leaned against the doorframe so he wouldn’t feel crowded. “Hi.”

He hesitated, then lifted the notebook a little. “Do you want to see?”

“I do,” I said, moving closer but still giving him space.

He turned the notebook toward me. A crooked house. A tree that leaned too much to one side. And a small figure standing slightly apart from everything else.

“Who’s that?” I asked gently.

He hesitated, then answered softly, “Me.”

My heart broke quietly. I lowered myself onto the floor beside him.

“You’re not alone anymore,” I said, my voice low.

He studied my face for a long moment, like he was trying to calculate the truth of it, whether I was someone who said things to sound kind, or someone who meant them.

“You’ll visit again?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “And you can visit me too, if you want.”

He nodded slowly, holding the notebook a little closer to his chest, as if the drawing had suddenly become something important, something he didn’t want to lose.

I stayed in the guest room, my first night here since leaving at eighteen.

I lay awake staring at the ceiling, the familiar shadows of the house stretching across the walls like memories I didn’t ask for.

I had planned Marissa’s downfall carefully. Slowly. Strategically. Piece by piece. I had intended to let time do half the work for me.

But then I had seen Evan.

The way he measured every word, the way his shoulders tightened when Marissa spoke, the way he waited for permission to exist.

I exhaled slowly.

No.

I couldn’t let her poison another child.

My timeline shifted in that moment. What I had planned to unfold over years could no longer be stretched that thin. It had to accelerate.

And Elena… Elena had not simply vanished. Women didn’t disappear when they had children waiting for them.

I already knew who to contact.

Amy.

I rolled onto my side, phone in my hand, and typed: