NADIA'S POV
I wake to sunlight and the sound of someone knocking. My neck hurts from sleeping on the couch, still in yesterday's clothes.
The knocking continues.
"Coming!" I call, stumbling to the door.
It's a delivery man with a huge box. "Nadia Morrison?"
"Yes?"
"Sign here."
I sign and drag the box inside. No return address, but I recognize Jeff's assistant's handwriting. Inside are my things from the penthouse - clothes, jewelry, photos. A note sits on top:
"Mr. Porter thought you might want these. - Kelly"
At the bottom of the box, wrapped in tissue paper, is my wedding dress.
I stare at it, this symbol of everything I thought I was getting. Love, partnership, forever. Instead, I got lies, betrayal, and hidden cameras.
I carry the dress to the beach and build a fire in the fire pit. The silk catches quickly, burning bright orange against the morning sky.
"That's one way to start the day."
I turn. Nathan stands there with coffee cups and Murphy.
"Peace offering," he says, holding out a cup. "For intruding on your breakdown last night."
"You didn't intrude." I take the coffee gratefully. "You helped."
"By letting my dog shed on you?"
"Murphy's a good listener."
The dog wags his tail at his name, already leaning against my legs.
"What was that?" Nathan asks, nodding at the burning dress.
"My wedding dress."
"Ah. The five rough years?"
"Ended two days ago."
"Fresh wounds then."
We watch the dress turn to ash. It's oddly satisfying.
"I should introduce myself properly," he says. "Nathan Cross. I teach at the local high school. History."
"Nadia Morrison. Currently unemployed and burning my past."
"Sounds like a good career move."
I laugh. He's easy to talk to, this stranger with the kind eyes.
"Murphy and I walk every morning at seven if you want to join," he offers. "No pressure. But the offer stands."
After he leaves, I shower and actually look at myself in the mirror. Really look. I'm thinner than I should be. My hair needs cutting. But my eyes - there's something different there. A spark that's been missing.
I spend the morning unpacking, shoving Jeff's gifts in a closet. I keep the photos of Grandma Rose, my parents, a few friends I lost touch with. Everything else goes in the trash.
My phone rings. It's Richard again.
"Nadia, have you considered our offer?"
"I have."
"And?"
"I need time. Can you give me a month?"
"A month? The position needs filling now."
"Then fill it."
Silence. "You're different."
"Yes."
"Alright. One month. But I can't promise the position will still be available."
"I understand."
I hang up and immediately feel lighter. For the first time in years, I'm not jumping at the first opportunity to please someone.
I set up my art supplies on the deck. The canvas is blank, waiting. I pick up a brush, then put it down. I don't know how to start.
My phone buzzes. Text from an unknown number.
"This is Scarlett. We need to talk."*
I delete it.
Another text: "Ignoring me won't make this go away."
Delete.
"I have videos. Meet me or I release them."
I call Marcus.
"She's texting me,"I say without preamble.
"Forward them to me. Don't respond. Don't meet her."
"What if she…"
"She won't. Trust me. I'm handling it."
"Why are you helping me?"
"Because Jeff won't. And someone should."
After we hang up, I forward the texts and block Scarlett's number. Then I turn off my phone completely.
I pick up the brush again. This time, I make a mark. Just one stroke of blue across the white canvas. Then another. And another.
I paint all day, not stopping for food. It's abstract, messy, emotional. Everything Jeff would have hated. Everything I love.
"Daddy, look! An artist!"
I turn to see a little girl with pigtails pointing at me. Nathan stands behind her, looking embarrassed.
"Sophie, we don't point at people."
"But Daddy, she's painting! Can I see?"
"Only if she says it's okay."
Sophie looks at me with huge brown eyes. "Please?"
"Sure," I say.
She studies my painting seriously. "It looks like feelings."
"That's exactly what it is."
"Sad feelings or happy feelings?"
"Both."
"I like it. It's honest."
Nathan's mouth quirks. "Five going on thirty-five."
"Daddy, can she paint with us sometime?"
"Sophie"
"I'd love to," I say, surprising myself.
Sophie beams. "Tomorrow? After school?"
"Sophie, Ms. Nadia might be busy"
"Tomorrow's perfect."
Nathan gives me a look I can't read. "You sure?"
"Completely."
They leave with Sophie chattering about paint colors. I look at my painting, my first in five years. Sophie's right. It does look like feelings.
That evening, I walk to the grocery store. I'm picking out wine when I hear familiar voices. Patricia and her friend Linda.
I duck behind a display, but it's too late.
"Nadia?" Patricia's voice is sharp. "What are you doing here?"
"Shopping."
"In Monterey? This is hardly your scene anymore."
"It's exactly my scene."
She eyes my jeans and paint-stained shirt with disgust. "You've let yourself go."
"I've let myself be."
"Don't be clever. It doesn't suit you." She steps closer. "Jeff is miserable without you."
"Good."
"How can you say that? After everything he's given you?"
"Given me? He took everything. My confidence, my art, my sense of self."
"He gave you status. Security. A name that means something."
"I had a name. It meant something to me."
Linda whispers something to Patricia, who nods.
"We know about the money Marcus gave you," Patricia says. "It belongs to the family."
"It belongs to me. Legally and morally."
"You always were ungrateful."
"And you always were a bitch."
Patricia gasps. Linda's mouth falls open.
"How dare you"
"I dare because I'm done. Done pretending you're not toxic. Done pretending your son didn't destroy me. Done with all of it."
I walk away, leaving them sputtering.
Outside, I run into Nathan and Sophie coming out of the ice cream shop.
"Nadia!" Sophie shouts. "We got chocolate!"
"Lucky you."
Nathan looks at my face. "You okay?"
"Better than okay."
"Want to join us? Sophie insists ice cream tastes better on the beach."
"She's right."
We sit on the sand, Sophie between us, chattering about school and art and her best friend Emma. Nathan catches my eye over her head and smiles.
"Daddy likes you," Sophie announces suddenly.
"Sophie!" Nathan turns red.
"What? You do. You said she seemed nice."
"That's... that's not..."
I laugh. "Your dad seems nice too."
"He is. He makes good pancakes and reads all the voices in stories."
"Important qualities in a dad."
"Do you have kids?" Sophie asks.
The question hurts more than I expect. "No."
"Do you want some?"
"Sophie, that's personal"
"It's okay." I look at this bright, curious child. "Maybe someday."
"You could practice with me. I'm very good at being a kid."
Nathan covers his face. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't be. She's perfect."
Sophie beams. "I like you, Ms. Nadia."
"I like you too, Sophie."
Later, after they've gone home and I'm cleaning paint brushes, my phone rings. Jeff again.
I let it go to voicemail.
"Nadia, it's me. Mom said she saw you. Said you were rude. That's not like you. Marcus says you're painting again. That's good. I... I miss you. The house is empty. I know I have no right to say that. But it's true. Call me."
I delete the message.
Then I see another text from an unknown number. This one has a video attachment.
My blood runs cold.
But when I open it, it's not what I expect. It's Marcus, and he's with lawyers.
The text reads: "Injunction granted. She can't release anything. You're safe. - M"
Safe. Such a simple word.
I walk back to the beach, letting the word sink in. Safe from the videos. Safe from Scarlett. Safe from the past.
The moon is full, reflecting on the water. Tomorrow I paint with Sophie. Tomorrow I walk with Nathan and Murphy. Tomorrow I continue becoming myself again.
For the first time in five years, tomorrow doesn't scare me.
It excites me.