Jean
The park felt quieter today. Not the kind of quiet that begged for silence just the kind that expected it.
Jean sat on the same old bench, arms curled around Sunny the small, stitched bear with one ear slightly torn, like it, too, had been through something.
She didn't expect anyone. Didn't want anyone.
Then small footsteps again. Leaves crunching. A sound too light to scare her.
"Hey," said a soft voice.
Jean looked up.
Same boy. Same half-toothless grin. His jacket unzipped, cheeks flushed from running.
"You came back," he said with that impossible innocence.
"So did you," she said, barely audible.
He climbed beside her without asking. His legs swung off the edge like the last time.
"I forgot to tell you my name," he said. "It's Greyson."
Jean nodded. "Greyson…" Her eyes stayed on the gray sky. "You sound like someone who belongs up there."
He tilted his head. "You think I do?"
She glanced sideways. "Yeah. Maybe you do."
They didn't talk for a while. Just sat in the silence that didn't hurt.
Then she whispered, "Do you think it's okay… to return to a place that once made you feel small?"
Greyson didn't answer fast. He chewed on the question like it mattered.
"Maybe we don't go back for the place," he said. "Maybe we go back for the version of us we left behind."
Jean stilled.
He looked at her. "Do you believe in miracles?"
Her mouth opened then closed. Then opened again.
"I want to," she said honestly.
Greyson nodded, like he understood.
"Sometimes miracles don't yell," he said. "They just wait real quiet, hoping someone will notice."
Jean stared at the toy in her hands.
Maybe not all broken things stayed broken.
Later
Jean stood at her door, keys in one hand, phone in the other. Her boots tracked faint mud across the floor, but she didn't notice.
She stared at the message again.
You don't have to be ready. Just show up.
She typed slowly.
I'll come tomorrow. Not sure I'll stay. But I'll come.
She hit send.
Didn't cry. Didn't shake. Just breathed in and out like it mattered again.
She sat on the floor, back against the wall, eyes closed.
She wasn't brave. Not yet.
But maybe she was tired of hiding.
Zane
The city outside roared. But Zane didn't hear it.
He stood by the window, unmoving.
Jared walked in. "She said yes."
Zane stayed still for a second too long.
Then his jaw shifted. His fingers relaxed.
"She's really going back?" he asked, like he needed to hear it again.
"She said she'd try the café."
Zane nodded once.
"No pressure," he said. "No cameras. No interference. She walks in and walks out untouched."
"Already in place."
Zane touched the cold glass.
"She's not hiding today," he murmured.
Then quieter: "She doesn't know what that yes did to me."
Jean
Jean didn't put on makeup. Didn't fix her hair. Just pulled it back and grabbed her old coat.
She wasn't going to impress anyone.
She was going to survive the walk.
Then screech.
A car horn. Too close. Too sudden.
She flinched hard. Her heart kicked against her ribs.
Not the road.
Not the noise.
Just a memory. A yell. A door slamming. Her mother crying in another room.
A black car halted inches from her knees.
The window slid down.
Blue eyes.
Sharp. Unkind.
The man inside James Maddox didn't smile like normal people.
He looked at her like she was a thing. Something to grab, not meet.
She took a shaky step back. Then another. Then turned.
Didn't speak. Didn't breathe until she was blocks away.
Back at the car
"Get me her name," the man said lazily.
The driver hesitated. "Sir?"
The man smiled, slow and cruel.
"I want her in my bed by the end of the second night."