Chapter Text
The bell above the café door jingled softly when Columbina stepped inside. The sound was bright and cheery which felt like a direct insult to the heavy knot tightening in her chest.
She saw them immediately. Sandrone always chose the same table. It was a corner seat with her back to the wall and a clear view of the entrance. It was a habit born of a need to be protective, controlled and predictable.
Their daughter sat across from her in a tiny sweater with crooked buttons. Sandrone was a perfectionist. but lately, she never quite noticed when she misbuttoned a toddler’s cardigan.
The little girl was coloring on a napkin with her tongue peeking out in pure concentration.
Sandrone didn’t look up at first. She didn’t have to. She felt the shift in the air when Columbina entered. Columbina knew she did.
Three years of marriage and a lifetime of history does not simply vanish just because legal papers are being processed in a cold office somewhere.
“Hi Mama!”
Their daughter scrambled out of her chair the moment she spotted Columbina and nearly knocked over a half empty juice box in her excitement. Columbina caught her easily and scooped her up into her arms.
She breathed in the familiar scent of baby shampoo and warm milk. It was a scent that felt like a punch to the gut. She missed this. She missed every mundane second of this life.
“Hey baby” Columbina murmured. She pressed a lingering kiss to the soft hair at the girl's temple.
Across the table Sandrone finally looked up. It was always the eyes first. They were sharp and guarded and so beautiful that it physically hurt to look at them for too long.
“You’re late” Sandrone said. Her voice was even and lacked any trace of the warmth she used to reserve for her wife.
“I know I’m sorry. Rehearsal ran over”
“It always does”
The words weren’t loud but they were heavy with the weight of every dinner that had gone cold and every anniversary spent on opposite sides of the globe.
Columbina sat down slowly and settled their daughter between them like a fragile treaty in a war that neither of them was winning.
The divorce papers were still unsigned on a desk at home. Shared custody had been the only compromise they could reach. Sandrone had primary custody because she provided the routine and the stability.
Columbina had weekends and scheduled visits when she wasn't performing abroad. It sounded civil and logical on paper. It felt like slow bleeding in real life.
Their daughter tugged at Columbina’s sleeve with a sticky hand.
“Mama guess what!”
“What is it sweetheart?”
“We’re going to France!”
Columbina blinked and felt the air leave her lungs. She looked up at Sandrone. France was home. It was the place they had dreamed of taking her together.
“Two weeks” Sandrone said calmly. She took a sip of her coffee as if she were discussing a business deal. “I informed you through email”
“I saw it” Columbina answered softly. “I just didn’t know it was so soon”
“It’s during break before she starts school. It’s the best time for her to travel”
Their daughter bounced in her seat with pure joy. “Mommy says it’s where she grew up! There’s snow and pretty houses and big towers!”
Columbina forced a smile for the sake of her little girl. “That sounds amazing”
Then Sandrone cleared her throat and set her cup down with a sharp click. “I wanted to formally ask. I’ll need to borrow her for the full two weeks. No exchanges. No weekend handoffs”
Borrow. The word felt wrong. It felt like she was talking about a library book or a tool from a neighbor.
“She’s not a book” Columbina said before she could stop herself.
Sandrone’s jaw tightened and the professional mask slipped for a fraction of a second. “You know what I meant”
Silence fell between them again. It was thick and suffocating and painfully familiar. Columbina eventually nodded. “Of course. She should see your home. She should see where you came from”
She almost added ‘our’ home. because home was wherever Sandrone was but that wasn't the reality anymore.
Not since Columbina had chosen the lights of the stage and the roar of the applause over the quiet intimacy of a dinner table.
Their daughter looked between them and her small brows furrowed in confusion.
“Mama?”
“Yes sweetheart?”
“Are you coming too?”
The question hit. Sandrone froze with her hand hovering over her napkin. Columbina’s heart stuttered in her chest.
For a split second something dangerous and beautiful passed between them. It was the memory of Parisian snow and shared scarves and the tiny apartment they had shared before everything fractured under the pressure of distance.
Columbina swallowed the lump in her throat. “I can’t baby”
“Why?”
Sandrone looked away toward the window. Columbina crouched down to eye level with her daughter.
“Because Mama has work” she said gently. “I have to sing and practice and travel to all those different theaters”
Their daughter frowned. “But you can sing in France. They have theaters there too”
Sandrone’s fingers tightened around her coffee cup.
Columbina forced a small laugh that didn't reach her eyes. “I’m sorry baby but it’s not that simple”
“Why not?”
Because I chose my dreams over my reality. Because I thought love would stretch farther than oceans. Because I didn’t realize that missing one bedtime turns into missing an entire childhood.
Columbina brushed her daughter’s cheek with a trembling hand. “Sometimes grown ups have to make hard choices. And sometimes those choices mean we can’t all be in the same place at the same time”
Their daughter’s voice got smaller as she leaned closer.
“Is that why you and Mommy don’t live together anymore?”
There it was. The question neither of them knew how to answer without breaking. Sandrone’s composure cracked first. Her eyes softened with a look of pure sorrow.
Columbina looked up at her and searched for any kind of help.
Sandrone exhaled a long and quiet breath. “Sweetheart it’s complicated” she said with careful precision. “And you’re still very little”
“I’m not little. I’m three”
Columbina almost smiled at the defiance. Sandrone almost did too. The ghost of a shared joke lingered in the air for a second before it faded back into the gloom. Columbina gathered their daughter into her lap and held her close.
“Mommy and Mama both love you very much. That hasn’t changed. That will never change regardless of where we are”
“But you don’t love each other?”
The café noise felt miles away. The clinking of spoons and the hiss of the espresso machine became white noise. Sandrone’s gaze snapped back to Columbina.
It was a look of raw honesty because that wasn’t the truth. That had never been the problem between them.
Columbina’s voice trembled just slightly. “We care about each other very much”
Sandrone looked away again. Resentment lived in the line of her shoulders but longing lived in the way she wouldn't leave.
Columbina had left to chase the lights in foreign cities. The long distance had been manageable at first with the late night calls and the promises to fly back.
Then the rehearsals got longer. The flights got delayed. The bedtimes were missed until Sandrone stopped asking when she’d be home. Columbina had stopped knowing the answer.
Love hadn’t died. It had just been neglected until it withered.
Their daughter twisted in Columbina’s arms. “When I’m big can we all live together again?”
Sandrone inhaled sharply and the sound was like a sob caught in her throat. Columbina felt something finally break in her chest.
Sandrone spoke first this time. “When you’re big” she said softly “you’ll understand that sometimes people love each other but they can’t make it work.”
Columbina’s eyes stung with unshed tears.
Their daughter pouted. “That’s silly”
Maybe it was. Maybe it still was the silliest thing they had ever done. Columbina stood slowly and placed their daughter back in her seat.
“I’ll call every night while you’re in France” she said.
Sandrone nodded. “She’d like that”
I would too hung unspoken in the air.
They gathered their things in a silence that felt heavy and permanent. At the door their daughter ran back to Columbina for one last hug.
“Don’t forget us” she whispered with the terrifying seriousness of a child.
Columbina held her tighter than she should have. “I could never forget you”
When she looked up Sandrone was watching her. All the anger and all the hurt and all the unfinished love was right there on the surface.
“So” Columbina said quietly “France”
“Yes”
“You always said you wanted her to see where you grew up.”
“I did”
A pause stretched between them. It was a bridge they weren't sure they could cross.
“You could visit” Sandrone added before she could stop herself.
It wasn’t an invitation exactly. It wasn’t forgiveness. It was just something fragile and new.
Columbina’s breath caught in her throat. “Would that be okay?”
Sandrone hesitated. She looked at the daughter they had made and then back at the woman she had once called her home. The divorce papers weren’t final. Neither was the ache.
“We’ll see” she said.
It wasn’t a yes. But it wasn’t a no. And for now in the space between custody exchanges and unsent messages it was enough to keep the door from closing.
France felt different at night. It was quieter than the daytime bustle. Distant laughter drifted up from somewhere Sandrone couldn’t see and it made the world feel vast and lonely all at once.
The ceiling slanted low over the couch where she sat while their daughter tucked herself against her side. The little girl had claimed the entire country personally within hours of landing and she showed no signs of letting go.
“Can we call Mama now?” she whispered. Her small fingers were already reaching for the phone on the coffee table.
Sandrone hesitated for only a second. The silence of the apartment was beginning to press in on her and the chill of the evening seemed to seep through the glass. She placed the call.
It rang once. Then twice.
Columbina picked up almost immediately.
“Hello?”
Her voice was soft but alert. It sounded like she had been sitting in the dark with her phone in her hand just waiting for the screen to light up.
“MAMA!” their daughter shouted. She scrambled over Sandrone’s lap to grab the device and nearly hit Sandrone in the chin with an elbow. “We’re here! It’s really France!”
Columbina laughed quietly. The sound was a ghost of the joy they used to share. “Is it everything you imagined it would be?”
“Yes! The houses are so tall and the bread I ate earlier is really crunchy! and! and! Mommy said the air smells like rain and old books!”
“Old books?” Columbina echoed fondly. “that’s very poetic of Mommy. She always did have a way with words when she wasn't being stubborn.”
Sandrone rolled her eyes slightly at the ceiling but she didn’t interrupt the moment. She watched the way her daughter's face lit up just at the sound of that voice.
“And guess what!” the child continued breathlessly. “me and mommy made a fort!”
“A fort?” Columbina sounded genuinely delighted. “Already conquering foreign lands, I see?”
“Yes! We used the chairs and the big blankets and Mommy made it super strong because she’s an engineer. We pretended we were explorers hiding from the rain and Mommy read me a story inside and it was so cozy, Mama!”
There was a pause on the other end. It was just long enough for the weight of the distance to settle between them.
“That sounds nice baby” Columbina said gently.
“I love it here. France is so pretty and the lady downstairs said bonjour and I said it back and Mommy said I did it right!”
“you’re already charming the locals?” Columbina teased and there was a playful lilt in her tone that made Sandrone’s heart ache. “Should I be worried that you're going to stay there forever?”
“Nooo!” The protest was immediate and loud. “you have to come too! I want to show you the fort! It’s still there in the living room! Mommy said we can keep it for two days!”
There it was. The shift in the atmosphere. The child's voice became small and hopeful.
“I wish you were here with us”
Sandrone closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the cushions. On the other end of the line Columbina went very quiet. When she finally spoke again her voice was so gentle it almost trembled.
“I wish I was there too baby”
The silence that followed felt heavy through the phone. Sandrone could almost feel the way the air shifted in whatever room Columbina was sitting in. When Columbina finally found her voice again it was light. It was far too light to be real.
“Someone has to hold down the fort over here while you're away”
“But you’d like our fort better” the child insisted with all the earnestness of a three year old. “It has the fluffy pillows and it smells like Mommy's perfume”
A soft exhale came through the speaker. It was almost a laugh but it sounded more like a sob that had been forced back down. “I’m sure I would love it”
“I miss you” their daughter said plainly. She said it easily. Like saying the sky is blue or the grass is green.
“I miss you more”
“That’s impossible” the child declared with a huff.
Sandrone almost smiled at the familiar stubbornness. Columbina let out a soft breath that sounded suspiciously like she was fighting back tears.
“Is Mommy taking good care of you?”
“Yes! She made bread and pasta! It’s deli...cious!” The little girl struggled with the long word and the effort made her face scrunch up.
Columbina’s heart swelled at the sound. “Of course she did” she said and there was a deep pride in her voice mixed with an agonizing longing. “She always takes care of the people she loves”
“So you’re happy?” Columbina asked carefully as if she were afraid the answer might hurt.
“Yes!” The answer was bright and certain. “I like France. But it would be better if you were here”
Silence fell again. This time it lasted longer. Sandrone could hear it through the line. The way Columbina swallowed hard before speaking.
“I know”
Sandrone finally reached out and took the phone from her daughter’s small hands.
“Columbina”
Just her name. It felt like a prayer and a curse all at once. There was so much history packed into those four syllables.
There was a long pause.
“...Hi”
God. That single word carried weeks of distance and years of shared secrets. It was a bridge that was falling apart even as they tried to stand on it.
“She’s settling in” Sandrone said quietly. She kept her voice low so the child wouldn't hear the cracks in it. “She really does like it here”
“I can tell. She sounds so much like you when she's excited”
Another pause stretched between them.
“How are you?” Columbina asked.
Sandrone almost lied. She almost said she was fine and that the trip was perfect. Instead she let the truth slip out.
“The apartment is cold at night” she admitted. “It’s... quieter than I thought it would be. Even with her here”
On the other end of the line Columbina was sitting alone in their old living room. The lights were dim and the house felt like a museum of a life she had walked away from. She hadn’t turned on the television and she hadn’t moved an inch since the call connected.
She could picture them perfectly. She saw the blanket fort and the slanted ceiling and that small stubborn little girl tucked into Sandrone's side.
“I kept expecting to hear her running in the hallway” Columbina said softly. Her voice was barely a whisper. “It’s too quiet here. I can hear the clock ticking and it's driving me crazy”
Sandrone’s fingers tightened around the phone until her knuckles were white. Their daughter yawned loudly in the background and crawled back into Sandrone’s lap.
“I had so much fun today Mommy. I like it here a lot”
“I’m so glad” Columbina said. She heard her daughter talking to Sandrone in the background and she meant it with every fiber of her being.
That was the worst part of it all. Sandrone could hear the genuine pride in her voice and the quiet relief. Columbina wanted their daughter to thrive and be happy even if that happiness was happening thousands of miles away from her.
“Alright sleepyhead tell Mama goodnight” Sandrone whispered. She brushed a stray hair out of her daughter's eyes.
“Goodnight Mama. I love you. Come soon okay?”
Columbina’s breath hitched. It was a small sound but in the quiet of the night it was unmistakable.
“I love you more baby” she said. Her voice broke on the last word. “Sleep well my sweet girl.”
A sleepy mumble was the only reply before the little girl drifted off.
The phone shifted back into Sandrone’s hand as their daughter melted against her shoulder.
For a long moment neither woman spoke. The line stayed open and crackling with a faint static. It sat heavy and invisible in the space between their breaths.
“She sounds happy” Columbina said finally. Her voice was low and thin as if she were afraid of breaking the fragile peace of the moment.
“She is” Sandrone replied.
“That’s good”
“Yes”
Another stretch of silence followed. It was the kind of silence that used to be comfortable but now felt heavy. Sandrone watched her daughter’s small fingers curl into the wool of her sweater and felt the warmth of the child against her heart.
It was a grounding weight in a world that felt like it was drifting away.
“The apartment suits you” Columbina said after a while. “I can picture it perfectly.”
“You’ve always been good at that” Sandrone murmured.
“Imagining things I’m not part of?” Columbina asked. There was a faint attempt at a light tone in her voice but it fell flat against the reality of the situation.
Sandrone’s jaw tightened and she felt a familiar spark of frustration and sorrow. “That’s not what I meant”
“I know”
But neither of them moved to correct the statement. A car passed outside Columbina’s window somewhere in the city. The faint sound of the engine bled through the call and brought with it a sense of movement that neither of them felt.
Sandrone pictured her there alone in a dark room with the phone pressed to her ear. She could see her sitting on the edge of the bed or a chair and pretending she wasn’t waiting for scraps of sound from another country just to feel whole.
“You built a fort” Columbina said quietly. There was a hint of a smile in her voice now. “She really loved that didn't she?”
“She did”
A beat passed.
“You always were better at that sort of thing” Columbina added.
Sandrone almost laughed but the sound caught in her throat. “At hiding under blankets?”
“At staying”
The word landed softly between them but it felt sharp anyway. It was a reminder of every time Columbina had packed a suitcase and every time Sandrone had stood in a doorway watching her go. Sandrone’s grip on the phone tightened until her fingers began to ache.
“This was your idea” Sandrone reminded her. Her voice was firm but not unkind.
“I know”
Neither of them elaborated on the point. They didn't need to. They both knew why the distance had become necessary and why the papers were sitting on the table.
They knew that wanting something better and more stable for their daughter didn’t mean the decision didn’t cost them everything. It was a sacrifice that felt more like a slow theft.
In the background the child shifted and murmured some sleepy French nonsense she’d already started inventing since they landed. Columbina’s breath caught at the sound. It was a sharp intake of air that spoke of a deep and aching longing.
“I’m scared she’s going to forget my voice” Columbina said. She tried to make it sound like a joke but the tremor in her words gave her away.
“She won’t”
“You can’t promise that Sandrone. Time does things to memory”
No. She couldn’t promise that. She couldn't guarantee that a three year old's mind wouldn't let the details of a mother's face or the tone of her lullabies slip away like water.
Another silence fell between them. It was longer this time and thicker with the things they were too tired to fight about.
“I should let you rest” Columbina said at last. “It’s late there and you have a big day of exploring tomorrow”
“Yes”
But Sandrone didn’t hang up the phone. She stayed there listening to the faint sound of Columbina's breathing. Neither of them wanted to be the one to break the connection and return to their separate quiet rooms.
The distance felt like something physical. It was a long hallway neither of them knew how to walk down and neither of them was ready to leave.
“I’m glad she likes France” Columbina added softly.
Sandrone closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath. “Yes”
It would be easier if she didn’t like it. It would be easier if she hated it and cried for her other mother and made the choice for them.
“Goodnight Sandrone”
There was so much in the way she said her name. There was care and restraint and something unsaid pressing against her teeth.
“Goodnight Columbina” It was the sound of a woman who still loved the person on the other end but didn't know how to bridge the gap.
They lingered for one second too long. Just one more heartbeat of shared air before the line went dead with a soft click.
Sandrone pulled her daughter closer and tried to find warmth in the small sleeping form.
Columbina sat very still. The phone was still warm in her hand and pressed against her palm.
She sat in the silence where her girls should have been and she waited for a morning that felt like it was never going to come.
“Puloniaaaaa!” the child giggled as she scrambled across the polished wooden floor. Her small socks slid against the grain as she chased the family dog into the corner.
Pulonia was old and he gave Sandrone a look that clearly translated to a plea for intervention. It was a look that said quite plainly that this was her child and therefore her responsibility.
“Don’t pull his ears” Sandrone warned from the kitchen. She didn't look up from the stove but her ears were tuned to the scuffle in the living room. “I told you he is old like grandpa’s knees. Please be gentle with him”
“I am being gentle!” the child insisted. But the words were immediately betrayed by the sound of another enthusiastic tug.
Pulonia let out a sharp and pained yelp.
That was enough. Sandrone crossed the room in three long strides and crouched down on the floor. Her voice was firm and held edge that did not leave any room for an argument.
“That’s enough”
The little hands froze in mid air.
“Don’t pull him. He’s not a toy. He is a living creature and he can get hurt just like you”
The baby’s lower lip began to tremble immediately. Her eyes went wide and shiny with the threat of tears. “But I was just playing with him, mommy”
“No. you were hurting him” Sandrone said. She kept her tone steady but stern because some lessons were too important to sugarcoat. “you have to listen when I tell you to stop”
Pulonia shuffled behind Sandrone’s legs and sat down with a huff like he had won. The child’s eyes filled with water instantly and tears rolled down her cheek.
“I didn’t mean to”
“I know you didn't” Sandrone said. Her voice softened slightly but she remained serious. “But meaning to do something and actually doing it are two different things”
And then the real crying started. It was loud and devastated and the kind of wail that made the entire tiny apartment feel far too small for the amount of grief inside it. Right on cue the phone on the coffee table began to buzz and hum.
Columbina.
Sandrone stared at the caller ID for half a second too long before she finally swiped to answer.
“Hello?”
All Columbina heard on the other end was the sound of a child’s world ending. Her tone sharpened with maternal panic instantly. “What happened? Why is she crying like that?”
Before Sandrone could even begin to explain the phone was snatched from her hand by a pair of clumsy and desperate fingers.
“Mamaaaaa!” their daughter sobbed into the speaker.
Columbina sat upright. “Hey hey. Tell me what’s wrong? What happened baby?”
“Mommy’s mad at me!” she wailed into the phone.
Sandrone exhaled slowly through her nose and felt a headache beginning to bloom behind her eyes. “I’m not mad” she started to say but she stopped herself because she knew it wouldn't matter.
Columbina’s voice turned syrup soft over the line. It was a tone she only used for healing wounds. “Why is Mommy mad hmm?”
“I pulled Pulonia’s ears but I was just playing and he yelped and Mommy scolded me and and” she took a ragged and hiccuping breath “and she was really mad at me!”
Columbina pressed her fingers to her temple and closed her eyes.
“She told me not to hurt him and I didn't mean to” the baby cried into the phone. “And I asked her earlier why you’re not here with us and she got even more mad at me!”
Sandrone stiffened where she stood. The air in the room suddenly felt very cold. Columbina went quiet on the other end of the line.
“You asked her that?” Columbina said carefully.
“Yes! I said why isn't Mama here with us and Mommy said…” another sob came out and this one was bigger and more jagged than the last
“she said you and her are not together because she doesn't love you anymore!”
The words dropped into the silence like shattered glass. Sandrone closed her eyes tight and felt the sting of regret in her chest.
She hadn’t meant to say it like that. She had said it sharply while she was frustrated and tired and overwhelmed by the weight of being a single parent in a different city.
She had meant to explain that they weren't together anymore but frustration had twisted the truth into a weapon.
Columbina did not speak for several seconds. When she finally did her voice was composed. It was far too composed.
“Oh”
The baby sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “Is that true Mama?”
Columbina swallowed hard. She felt something cave inward and collapse but she knew she couldn't let it show in her voice.
“That is something Mommy and I talk about sweetie” she said gently.
“But she was mad when I asked” the child whispered into the receiver.
“And if I made her mad again, will she stop loving me too?”
That was the breaking point. Columbina’s breath broke softly and she felt a tear of her own escape.
“No” she said immediately. Her voice was firm and certain. “No no no. your mommy dosn’t stop loving people just because she is angry with them”
A small and fragile pause followed the statement.
“She doesn't?”
“Absolutely not”
Sandrone’s throat tightened and she had to look away from her daughter's hopeful face.
“Mommy gets serious because she wants you to be safe” Columbina continued softly. “Pulonia is very old. He can get hurt easily. She was protecting him and she was teaching you how to be kind. That’s what good mommies do”
“But she sounded so mad Mama”
“Sometimes grown ups sound mad when they’re actually scared” Columbina explained with a patient tenderness. “Or when they are tired or worried about things. But love doesn't just go away easily like that.”
Silence followed the explanation. Then the child asked in a much smaller voice. “She still loves me?”
“With her whole heart”
Sandrone had to turn toward the window to hide the way her own eyes were welling up.
“And Pulonia loves you too” Columbina added and her voice was lighter now. “Even when he is being a dramatic old dog”
A tiny and wet sniff laugh escaped their daughter.
“And Mama?” the baby asked hesitantly.
Columbina’s fingers tightened around her phone until the casing creaked.
“I love you” she said simply. There was no hesitation in those words.
“Even if I am bad?”
“Yes”
“Even if I pull Pulonia’s ears?”
“You shouldn't do that” Columbina corrected gently. “But yes. Even then”
A pause.
“Even if I ask about you?”
Columbina’s chest ached with a physical pain. “Yes. Always”
On the other end of the call Sandrone stepped closer and reached out her hand. Her voice was much quieter now.
“Give me the phone baby”
Their daughter handed it back reluctantly while she continued to sniffle. There was a long and heavy silence between the two women.
“You didn't have to fix that” Sandrone said lowly.
“I wasn't fixing anything” Columbina replied just as quietly. “I was just answering her questions”
Another silence stretched out.
“You shouldn't have told her that” Columbina added. It wasn't sharp or accusatory but it sounded deeply wounded.
Sandrone’s jaw tightened. “I didn't mean it the way she repeated it back to you”
“But you said it. She heard exactly what she heard”
“Yes”
The admission hung heavy in the air. Pulonia huffed softly from the floor as he settled back down to sleep. He was oblivious to the emotional warfare happening above his head.
“She thinks you will stop loving her if she makes you angry” Columbina said.
Sandrone’s voice broke just slightly as she spoke. “I would never do that. She is my whole life”
“I know that”
A beat passed.
“But she doesn't know it yet”
Sandrone leaned her back against the wall and felt utterly exhausted. “I was just frustrated. She kept asking and asking and I didn't know what else to say. I didn't mean to hurt her”
“And you were alone” Columbina finished gently.
That one sentence softened the armor around Sandrone’s heart.
“Yes”
Neither of them said the obvious truth. They both knew that Sandrone hadn't wanted to answer that difficult question without Columbina standing there beside her.
From the background their daughter called out softly. “Mommy?”
Sandrone straightened her posture immediately. “I’m here sweetheart. What is wrong?”
Columbina listened to the immediate shift in Sandrone's voice. She heard the warmth and the fierce protection return.
“She loves you” Columbina said quietly into the phone.
“I know” Sandrone replied.
But there was something fragile and broken under the words. Neither of them dared to press any further into the wound.
“well, goodnight for now. I’ll call again tomorrow. She must be really tired” Columbina said after a moment of hesitation.
“Okay. Goodnight”
This time the line ended much faster than before. Sandrone knelt down on the floor and pulled their daughter into a tight hug.
“I was upset” she murmured into the girl's hair. “But I do not stop loving you. Ever. Do you understand me?”
She felt a small nod against her shoulder. “Yes mommy. I’m sorry”
Columbina’s chest still hurt with a dull and persistent throb. It wasn't because Sandrone had been angry.
It was because somewhere between exhaustion and the truth something had slipped out that felt far to real.
Pulonia was already fast asleep by the heater when Sandrone finished brushing her daughter’s hair.
The apartment had gone quiet in that heavy and foreign way that made every sound feel amplified. The pipes groaned with a different pitch than the ones back home and the wind rattled the windowpanes with a persistent chill that sounded nothing like the familiar drafts of their old life.
France sounded nothing like home at night and the silence here was a lonely thing.
Sandrone tucked the thick wool blanket under her daughter’s chin with meticulous care. She smoothed the fabric flat so there were no stray bunches or cold spots.
“There” she murmured in a voice barely above a breath. “You’re warm now”
“Are you staying?” the little voice asked immediately. The girl’s eyes were wide and dark and fixed on Sandrone’s face with a sudden piercing intensity.
Sandrone hesitated for a heartbeat. She felt the urge to leave and the urge to stay warring inside her chest.
“You don’t need me to stay tonight” she said gently. “You have Mama’s songs to keep you company”
It had become their nightly routine. Every night Sandrone would dim the lights and press play on old voice memos saved in her phone.
They were recordings of Columbina humming or singing soft melodies. Sometimes there was a tiny break in the notes where Columbina had laughed or said something teasing between the verses.
Their daughter would curl up under the covers and listen to that ghost of a voice until sleep finally claimed her.
Sandrone never stayed for the whole thing. She usually retreated to the kitchen or the balcony as soon as the audio started because lying there in the dark and listening to Columbina sing felt like peeling open a wound on purpose.
It was a self-inflicted torture she couldn't handle for more than a few minutes at a time.
“Play the one about the moon, please mommy” the child whispered as she settled deeper into her pillow.
Sandrone nodded and tapped the screen. Columbina’s voice filled the small bedroom instantly. It was soft and warm and intimate.
It was a lullaby she had written and sung back when Sandrone was still pregnant and the world felt small and manageable. Back then their bed had been a place of shared warmth without a vast ocean of distance carved into the middle of the mattress.
Sandrone stood up and stepped toward the door. She wanted to escape before the longing became too much to carry.
“Mommy”
She paused with her hand on the doorframe.
“I can’t sleep yet. Please stay with me”
The song kept playing softly in the background. Columbina was humming a low and vibrating note that seemed to make the very air in the room tremble.
“You will sleep soon” Sandrone assured her even though her own heart was beginning to fail her. “Just close your eyes sweetheart”
“I tried”
The tiny voice trembled just slightly and that was the end of Sandrone's resolve. She stood there for a long and agonizing moment staring out into the hallway. Then she turned back and walked toward the bed.
“Okay move over” she said quietly.
Their daughter scooted over instantly and made a space in the center of the bed with her small arms already reaching out. Sandrone lay down stiffly beside her and stared up at the slanted ceiling.
The lullaby continued to play and Columbina’s voice floated through the dark like it belonged there more than Sandrone did.
“I like when you’re here” her daughter mumbled sleepily as she pressed her warm face into Sandrone’s chest.
Sandrone swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. The song ended with the sound of a soft kiss being blown toward the microphone and then the room went silent. It was too silent.
“Can we play it again?” the child whispered against her sweater.
Sandrone didn’t press play this time. She couldn't bring herself to hear it again. Instead she wrapped a protective arm around her daughter and let the quiet sit between them.
It took longer than usual but eventually the small and frantic breathing evened out into the steady rhythm of deep sleep.
Sandrone stayed. She knew she shouldn't have stayed because the silence was a dangerous place for her mind to wander. But she couldn't make herself leave the warmth of her child.
The darkness pressed in from the corners of the room and without the distraction of movement or routine the memories began to creep in.
She saw Columbina laughing in their very first apartment with the morning sunlight caught in her messy hair.
She heard Columbina singing in the kitchen while she stirred a pot of something that was inevitably burning because she got too distracted talking.
She felt the ghost of Columbina humming against her belly in bed with her warm skin and her warm breath and her eyes full of a future that hadn't been broken yet.
That was back before the arguments turned sharp and mean.
Before the silence between them became weaponized.
Before love started feeling like something you had to defend instead of something that carried you through the day.
Sandrone squeezed her eyes shut until they ached.
We’re not together anymore she thought to herself.
She had said it so easily to their daughter earlier that day. She had said it as if it were a simple fact of life like the weather.
She had tried to make herself believe that saying it enough times would make the break feel clean and final.
But lying there in the dark with their daughter breathing softly against her, it did not feel clean at all.
It felt like rot. It felt like a slow decay that was eating her from the inside out. Her chest ached that made it hard to take a full breath.
“What are you doing to me Columbina?” she whispered into the darkness. her voice was barely audible over the sound of the wind.
Columbina’s voice from the phone call was still echoing in her head.
Your mommy doesn’t stop loving people just because she’s angry.
Sandrone pressed her lips together so hard they bled.
She still loved her.
That was the truth she never said out loud to anyone and barely admitted to herself. She still loved Columbina in ways that felt humiliating and raw.
She loved her in ways that made her feel weak and small.
After everything they had been through. After the miles and the distance and the bitter resentment. After months of convincing herself she was stronger and better off alone. She still loved her with a ferocity that terrified her.
The realization was daunting. Her fingers tightened in the fabric of the blanket.
“I don’t know how to do this” she breathed into the empty room. “I don’t know how to stop”
Her daughter shifted in her sleep and instinctively clung tighter to Sandrone's arm as if she could sense the turmoil.
Sandrone closed her eyes and finally let the silent tears slip into the pillow.
On the other side of the world, the city was a blur of cold rain and distant sirens but Columbina was not asleep.
She was sitting on the floor in a house that felt too large for one person. She had not moved an inch since the call ended and the phone felt like a heavy stone in her hand.
She said you and her aren’t together because she doesn’t love you anymore.
The words replayed in her mind like a broken record. Over and over and over again. Columbina pressed her palm over her mouth to stifle the jagged sound that threatened to claw its way out of her throat.
Her eyes were stinging and her vision was blurred.
She knew that children misinterpreted things. She knew their daughter was only three and that she filtered adult complications through a lens of simple black and white.
She knew deep down that Sandrone probably hadn't meant it with that kind of cruelty. But hearing it spoken back in that tiny innocent voice made it feel like a fact.
It made it feel like a truth that everyone knew except for her. It carved something deep and raw open in her chest.
“She doesn’t love you anymore” Columbina whispered to the empty room.
She shook her head sharply as if she could physically dislodge the thought from her brain. But the pain in her chest only intensified.
It was a physical ache that made every breath feel like she was inhaling broken glass. Because what if part of it was actually real?
What if the love had thinned out during those long months of silence? What if she had stayed away for too long? What if she was the one who had finally pushed the fragile thing past its breaking point and ruined it forever?
The terrifying thought that Sandrone had finally moved on and closed that door for good made her shoulders start to shake before she could stop them.
She bent forward and pressed her forehead against her knees until it hurt. The sob that finally broke out of her was raw and painful. It was the sound of a woman who had realized she was standing in the ruins of her own making.
Their daughter’s other question echoed next and it was the one that shattered her completely.
“if I made her mad again, will she stop loving me too?”
“No” Columbina whispered into the darkness. Her voice was cracked and wet with tears. “No baby she would never do that”
She knew Sandrone. She knew the way Sandrone loved fiercely and stubbornly and with a quiet intensity that most people never saw.
She knew that for Sandrone anger was just another mask for fear and sometimes it was just the only way she knew how to protect herself.
She knew that if Sandrone had truly stopped loving her then none of this would hurt this much. The silence wouldn't be this heavy and the resentment wouldn't be this sharp.
Columbina’s breath came in uneven gasps as she tried to pull herself back together.
“I don’t know how to do this either” she admitted.
She wiped her face roughly with the back of her hand but the tears kept coming and soaking into her sleeves. France felt impossibly far away. It felt like another planet.
And yet Sandrone’s presence felt like it was everywhere in the room.
She was in the silence of the kitchen where they used to drink tea. She was in the absence on the other side of the sofa. She was in the persistent ache that Columbina carried with her every second of the day.
Columbina pressed the cold phone to her chest and held it there as if it might still be warm from their voices. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine she could feel the vibration of Sandrone’s breathing through the plastic and glass.
“I still love you” she whispered into the dark.
No one heard the confession. There was only the sound of the rain against the window and the vast cold ocean between them that didn't care about her broken heart.
Sandrone told herself it was just the persistent damp of the French winter settling into her joints.
She ignored the dull throb behind her temples and the way the world seemed to tilt slightly every time she turned her head too fast.
She kept up the charade because that was what she did. She made breakfast and walked their daughter to the boulangerie and watched with a strained smile as the little girl pointed at the counter and cheered for a "Bagwet!"
She built the fort again. She washed the dishes. She did not rest because resting made her feel weak. By the afternoon the floor felt like it was made of water and she was swaying precariously over the sink.
“Mommy?”
“I’m fine” Sandrone muttered.
She was not fine. By the time she tucked their daughter in for the night she barely made it three steps into the hallway before her knees buckled.
She gripped the wall and felt the fever and the migrane hit. It was sharp and dizzying. She sank onto the floor because the simple act of standing felt difficult. Pulonia whined and paced circles around her.
“Mommy?” a small voice called from the bedroom.
Sandrone forced herself up through sheer willpower. “I’m here” she said though her own voice sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a well.
The next morning the world was a blur of heat and shivering. Sandrone could not get out of bed. Her limbs felt like leaden weights. Their daughter climbed onto the mattress and patted her cheek with a small palm.
“You’re hot”
“I know”
“Like oven”
Sandrone almost smiled but the effort was too great. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. It was Columbina. Sandrone looked at the name and let it ring out. She didn't have the strength to hide the truth in her voice.
Sandrone had been quiet for a day. To Columbina the silence was deafening. She was used to the short and clipped updates.
She tried escargot. Immediately regretted it.
Pulonia stole her mitten. Again.
Now there was nothing. Columbina told herself it was the time zones but her gut knew better. She checked the logs. No missed calls. No texts. Her stomach dropped.
She called. No answer. She called again.
This time the line clicked open and a tiny voice breathed into the speaker. “Mama?”
Columbina sat up instantly in her bed and threw the covers aside. “Baby? Where’s Mommy?”
“She’s sleeping”
“At this hour? It's the middle of the morning there”
A pause followed. “She was very hot”
Hot. Columbina’s pulse spiked into a frantic rhythm. “Put Mommy on the phone right now, sweetheart”
She heard shuffling and a dull thud. There was a small and frustrated grunt as the child struggled with the phone. Then a voice that made Columbina’s blood run cold.
“…Hello?”
It was weak. It was rough. It was entirely wrong. Columbina was already on her feet and pacing the room. “Are you sick?”
“I’m fine”
“you sound terrible. you sound like you can barely breathe”
“I have a fever” Sandrone admitted and the reluctance was audible. “It’s nothing. Just a cold”
“Don’t” Columbina countered.
It was that specific tone. the one that used to mean don't you dare lie to me.
Their daughter snatched the phone back. “Mama! Mommy won’t get up!”
Columbina’s breath sharpened into a blade. “What do you mean she won’t get up?”
“She’s oven!”
In the background Columbina heard Sandrone trying to sit up and the sound of her failing. “How high is it Sandrone?”
Silence.
“Sandrone answer me”
“…39.9”
Columbina swore under her breath and began shoving clothes into a bag with one hand.
“I took medicine” Sandrone added with a flash of her usual defensiveness. “It’s under control”
“You’re alone in a different city with a three year old and a fever that high”
“I’m not alone. She’s right here”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it”
On the other end Sandrone broke into a cough. It was dry and strained and sounded like it was tearing her throat apart. Columbina’s hands were shaking so hard she dropped her passport.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Sandrone swallowed and the sound was thick. “Because you’re not here”
The words weren't meant to be cruel. They were just tired. But they devastated Columbina nonetheless.
“I can be” Columbina said and the resolve in her voice was absolute.
Sandrone closed her eyes against the burning behind her lids. “You don't have to do that”
“I want to. you should have told me the moment you felt a chill”
“I can manage” Sandrone said quietly.
Columbina closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the wall. There it was again. Manage. The word that had defined their entire separation.
“You don't have to manage everything alone” Columbina whispered.
“That’s not your decision to make for me” Sandrone replied.
Their daughter’s voice piped up again with a worried edge. “She didn't eat dinner Mama. She just drank water”
Columbina’s heart clenched tightly. “I'm fine” Sandrone weakly insisted.
“You are not fine!” The sharpness slipped out before Columbina could soften it and a heavy pause followed.
Sandrone's voice came through and it was smaller than Columbina had ever heard it.
“Please don't yell”
The words weren't defensive. They were just exhausted. Columbina’s anger dissolved into a pool of regret instantly. “I’m not yelling at you. I’m scared Sandrone. I’m terrified for both of you”
Another cough rattled the line.
“Mommy said she’s too tired to build the fort anymore” their daughter added helpfully.
That was the final straw. Columbina moved without another thought. “I’m coming. I’m going to the airport right now”
Sandrone stiffened audibly. “No. Columbina”
“Yes”
“You have rehearsals. You worked so hard for this”
“I don't care” Columbina repeated “you’re sick. Our daughter is three. I am not sitting in another country while you try to manage pneumonia or something.”
“It’s not pneumonia. you're overreacting” Sandrone almost managed a laugh but it turned back into a cough.
“You don't know that.”
A long silence stretched then Sandrone said quietly “You don't have to fix this Columbina”
“I'm not trying to fix it” Columbina said “I’m just trying to be there. I should have been all along”
And that was new. That wasn't a contract. It was a confession. Sandrone exhaled slowly and the sound was a long and shaky release of breath.
“…Don't cancel everything.”
“I won't”
“You will”
“Maybe”
A weak huff of a laugh escaped Sandrone before the coughing started again. Columbina’s voice softened into something purely tender. “Go lie back down. Keep the phone near you. I’m booking the next flight out”
“Columbina…”
“Please. Just let me.”
The plea sat heavy between them. It wasn't about pride anymore. It wasn't about who was right or who had left first.
After a long moment Sandrone whispered a single word.
“…Okay”
By evening the fever climbs again. Sandrone drifts in and out of sleep and finds herself vaguely aware of their daughter pressing a cool washcloth to her forehead. The fabric is dripping and cold because the child has seen it in cartoons and wants to help.
Pulonia doesn’t leave the bedside for a second. He keeps his chin resting on the edge of the mattress and watches Sandrone with wide and worried eyes.
Her phone buzzes on the nightstand once more. This time it is not a call. It is a message.
Flight 21:10. Landing tomorrow morning.
Sandrone stares at the bright screen through blurred and stinging vision. She doesn't reply. She doesn't even have the strength left to argue or tell her to stay away. She just lets the phone slip from her fingers and falls back into sleep.
The doorbell rings the next morning. Their daughter runs to answer it before Sandrone can even think about moving.
“MAMA!”
Columbina drops her suitcase in the entryway and barely gets her coat off before she is tackled by a small and crying child.
She scans the room immediately and sees the wreckage of the last few days. There are blankets thrown everywhere and the half-built fort is sagging in the corner. There is a cup of cold and untouched tea sitting on the table.
And then she sees Sandrone.
She looks pale and her hair is loose and messy. She is wrapped in a grey sweater two sizes too big that makes her look fragile. Columbina’s chest tightens painfully at the sight.
“You look awful” she breathed.
Sandrone rolled her eyes weakly. “Wow. Charming”
“I feel worse” Sandrone added. It is the first honest thing she has said about the illness. There is no fight left in her voice. There is only exhaustion and a deep sense of relief she can't hide.
Columbina stepped closer without thinking and pressed her palm to Sandrone’s forehead. Her skin is still warm and feverish. The contact lingered far too long. Sandrone didn’t pull away from the touch.
“You’re burning up. you should be in bed” Columbina murmured.
“I was”
“And?”
“Our daughter declared herself hungry”
Columbina looked down at the floor.
“Mommy made toast” their daughter said proudly. “It was a little burnt”
Sandrone muttered and her voice was very small. “I’m so sorry sweetheart”
Columbina’s eyes softened at the apology. She looked at the woman she had once shared every meal with and felt a wave of guilt.
“You don’t get to be strong right now” she said quietly.
Sandrone’s composure wavered for just a second. Her lower lip trembled. “I’m not trying to be”
“Yes you are”
A beat passed in the quiet room. Then Sandrone spoke even softer.
“I don’t know how not to”
That broke something deep in Columbina. She stepped closer and gently took Sandrone’s hand in hers.
“You rest now. I’ve got her”
Sandrone’s fingers tightened around Columbina's hand before she could stop them. Just briefly. It was as if she were confirming that the woman standing in her living room was actually real and not a fever dream.
Columbina moves automatically after that. She finds the thermometer and brings fresh water and the right medicine. She adjusts the blankets and gently redirects their daughter to coloring in the next room.
The apartment shifts under her presence. It feels fuller and more alive than it has. Sandrone watches her move through half-lidded eyes as if she's afraid Columbina might vanish if she blinks.
“You didn’t have to come”
Columbina doesn’t look up as she tidies the nightstand. “Stop saying that”
“I don’t want you feeling obligated”
“I’m not obligated” Columbina snaps softly. Then her voice gets much quieter. “I’m in lo-”
She stops herself before she can say too much. The room goes perfectly still. Sandrone’s breath catches in her throat. Columbina finally looks at her.
“I didn’t come because I had to. I came because the thought of you being sick without me made me worry more than anything else”
Sandrone’s eyes glisten with unshed tears.
“You don’t get to be the only one who takes care of things” Columbina continues and her voice is trembling now. “You don’t get to carry everything alone just because I messed up”
“I wasn’t trying to be strong” Sandrone whispers. “I just... I didn’t know if you’d show up”
Columbina’s hand tightens around hers. She leans down until their foreheads almost touch.
“I’m here”
It is a simple statement. But it lands with the weight of a promise.
Later that night after soup and medicine and stories Columbina found Sandrone half asleep on the couch. She was still stubbornly refusing to move as if she could keep her exhaustion at bay by sheer force of will.
The living room was quiet except for the soft ticking of a clock and the distant hum of the heater working against winter.
“You’ll make it worse if you stay out here” Columbina said softly. She stood over her and felt the heat radiating from Sandrone’s skin.
“I didn’t want to leave you alone with her” Sandrone replied. Her voice was thick and heavy with sleep.
Columbina’s throat closed tight at the words. The implication was clear. Sandrone had become so used to carrying the weight of their daughter alone that she had forgotten how to share the burden.
“You don’t have to protect me from our own child” Columbina whispered. “I am here to help you not to be another thing for you to manage”
Sandrone managed a weak and crooked smile. It was the first time she looked truly vulnerable since Columbina had arrived. Columbina crouched beside her on the rug and offered her hands.
“Come on”
This time Sandrone did not argue. She let herself be helped up and leaned a significant portion of her weight against Columbina’s shoulder. They moved slowly toward the bedroom.
Columbina adjusted the blankets and set a fresh glass of water by the bed. She checked the thermometer again while Sandrone watched her quietly.
“You didn’t have to come” Sandrone murmured again. It was like a mantra she used to remind herself of the distance they had created.
Columbina looked at her and didn't turn away. “Yes” she said simply. “I did. There was nowhere else for me to be”
Sandrone’s eyes glistened faintly in the lamplight. She looked smaller than usual and stripped of her usual sharp edges. “I’m tired” she admitted.
The confession wasn't just about the fever or the lack of sleep. It was about the months of pretending she didn't need anyone and the years of trying to be both parents at once.
Columbina understood exactly what she meant. She reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair from Sandrone’s forehead. Her skin was still too hot but her eyes were clear.
“I know” Columbina said.
And this time when Sandrone’s hand reached out and curled weakly around her wrist Columbina didn’t hesitate. She didn't pull back or make a joke to ease the tension. She stayed right where she was.
For the first time in a very long time Sandrone let herself be taken care of without fighting the hands that held her.
The rest of the night passed in a blur of fever dreams for Sandrone. She drifted in and out of a restless sleep. Every time she woke up Columbina was there.
She felt a cool hand on her forehead or heard a soft humming that vibrated through the quiet room. She felt the blankets being adjusted every time she kicked them off in a sweat.
At one point she opened her eyes and saw Columbina asleep in the chair beside the bed. Her head was tilted at an awkward angle against the wall but she was still holding Sandrone’s hand as if she were afraid to let go.
Something in Sandrone’s chest ached with a sudden and sharp longing that had nothing to do with sickness.
“You always hum when you’re worried” Sandrone murmured weakly.
Columbina startled awake and her eyes snapped open. “you’re awake. do you need more water?”
“You used to do that when the baby cried in the middle of the night” Sandrone said. Her voice was raspy but steady.
Columbina’s eyes softened and she squeezed Sandrone’s fingers. “You remember that?”
“I remember everything”
A long silence settled over them. It wasn't the heavy and suffocating silence of their phone calls but something more reflective.
“I don’t want our daughter thinking love leaves when things get hard” Columbina said quietly.
She looked down at their joined hands. “I don't want her to think that distance is the only way to survive a disagreement”
Sandrone swallowed hard. The truth was bubbling up in her throat and she was too tired to keep it down any longer. “It didn’t leave” she admitted. “I just didn’t know how to hold it without breaking it”
Columbina leaned closer until she could feel the heat of Sandrone’s breath. “You don’t have to hold it alone anymore”
For the first time in months Sandrone let herself lean into her. She shifted on the pillow just slightly and rested her head toward Columbina’s arm. It wasn't a full resolution and it wasn't total forgiveness for the time they had lost.
But it was something softer. It was a start.
Outside the apartment remained cold and still under a blanket of winter. Inside the room under the dim yellow lamplight and the weight of fever warm skin they began to feel like a family again.
Morning came softer than usual. The fever had finally broken. Sandrone stood in the kitchen barefoot with sunlight spilling across the tiles in warm yellow patches.
She tied her hair back with a steady hand and didn't wobble for the first time in days. The kettle hissed gently on the stove and their daughter was already busy at the table stacking biscuits into a dangerously unstable tower.
Columbina watched the scene. For three days she had slept on the narrow couch. For three days she had measured Sandrone’s temperature and coaxed her into drinking water one sip at a time.
She had learned again the exact way Sandrone liked her soup seasoned with just enough salt to be sharp. Now Sandrone looked steadier. She looked stronger.
And Columbina felt the creeping weight of a single thought.
Maybe I’ve stayed too long.
France had been meant to be temporary. It was just until Sandrone recovered. Just until their daughter adjusted. Just until.
She didn’t want to leave and that was the problem that sat heavy in her gut.
“You’re staring” Sandrone said without turning around.
Columbina startled slightly and leaned against the doorframe. “You look better”
“I feel better”
“That’s good”
A pause stretched between them. Sandrone poured tea into two cups instead of one. Columbina noticed the second cup immediately and felt a small spark of hope.
Their daughter tugged on Columbina’s sleeve with a sticky hand. “Mama can we go outside today?”
Columbina smiled automatically and brushed a crumb from the girl's cheek. “If Mommy says yes”
Sandrone hesitated for a moment. Then she spoke softly. “We can”
Columbina blinked in surprise. “You don’t have to push yourself”
“I’m not” Sandrone replied as she handed over the tea. “I want to go out”
The words settled somewhere warm and dangerous in Columbina's heart.
They walked through the neighborhood later that afternoon. The cobblestone streets were narrow and lined with balconies featuring intricate iron railings.
The faint scent of baking bread drifted from a nearby bakery and mixed with the crisp winter air. Their daughter skipped between them and held one hand each.
It felt illegal. It felt too normal and too right. Her fingers brushed against Sandrone’s as their daughter swung their arms back and forth in a rhythm. Neither of them let go.
They passed a tiny patisserie. Sandrone stopped in her tracks.
“You used to drag me here after school” she said quietly.
Columbina smiled at the memory. “You complained every single time”
“You made me try everything on the menu”
“You always liked it though”
Sandrone’s mouth twitched with the ghost of a grin. “I liked that you liked it”
There it was again. That soft and unguarded honesty. They went inside and the warmth of the shop wrapped around them. Their daughter pressed her face against the display glass with her eyes wide and hungry. “Can we get the pink one?”
“Of course” Columbina said immediately.
Sandrone glanced at her with a mock frown. “You’re spoiling her”
“She deserves it after taking care of you”
“She’ll expect it every time we walk past now”
Columbina leaned closer and her voice was light and playful. “Then we’ll just have to come here every time”
Sandrone looked at her then. the word we lingered far too long in the air between them.
They sat at a small outdoor table under a striped awning. Their daughter managed to smear pink frosting across her cheek within seconds.
Columbina reached out to wipe it off at the exact same time Sandrone did. Their hands bumped and the heat of the contact made them both freeze.
Their daughter giggled and pointed a finger. “You did it together!”
Sandrone pulled her hand back first as if she had been burned. Columbina’s hand lingered in the air for half a second too long.
The light caught in Sandrone’s hair and made the strands glow. She looked healthier and less like the ghost who had been shivering in bed.
Columbina’s chest tightened with something almost selfish. If she’s better then I’m not needed anymore.
And wasn’t that what she’d promised herself? Stay until she’s okay then go back to the life she chose.
“Your rehearsals” Sandrone said suddenly while her eyes stayed fixed on her tea. “When do they start again?”
There it was. The clock was ticking.
“Soon” Columbina answered carefully. “I can postpone them a little longer if I need to”
“You shouldn’t do that”
“I want to”
Sandrone shook her head faintly. “You stayed longer than you planned already”
Columbina looked at her directly. “Are you asking me to leave Sandrone?”
Sandrone’s breath caught in her throat. “No”
The answer came too fast and they both heard the desperation in it. Sandrone tried again and her voice was much quieter.
“I just don’t want you to feel trapped here with us”
Columbina laughed softly but the sound wasn't amused. “I’ve never felt trapped when I was with you”
Sandrone’s fingers tightened around her cup.
“Then why did it feel like I was the only one waiting for you to come home?” she asked gently.
It wasn’t a sharp accusation this time. It was just tired. Columbina swallowed the lump in her throat.
“you know, I kind of wished you weren’t strong enough today so you would still need me all the time” Columbina admitted.
“I do need you”
The admission was small and barely audible over the noise of a passing car. Their daughter tugged Sandrone’s sleeve again and pointed down the street. “Mommy look! A puppy!”
She darted toward a small dog tied outside the bakery. Instinctively both women stood up at the same time to follow.
They were close. Far too close. Sandrone swayed slightly from the sudden movement and Columbina’s hand shot out to steady her by the waist. Sandrone’s breath hitched at the touch.
“I’m fine” she murmured against Columbina's shoulder.
“I know” Columbina said softly.
But she didn’t move her hand. For a second they stood like that with the life moving around them and their child laughing a few feet away.
Sunlight warmed their shoulders and it felt like a life they had almost kept for themselves. Sandrone looked down at Columbina’s hand resting on her waist. Then she looked back up at her face.
“You can’t keep looking at me like that” she said quietly.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re actually about to choose me this time”
Columbina’s throat tightened until it hurt. “Maybe I am” she whispered.
Sandrone’s composure wavered and her eyes went glassy. “Don’t” she said. “Don’t say things you might regret the second you’re back on a plane”
The fear was naked and raw now. Columbina stepped even closer despite herself. “I don’t want to leave”
“But you will anyway”
The certainty in her voice hurt more than any anger ever had. Their daughter ran back to them and grabbed both their hands again to pull them toward the corner. “Can we walk more?”
Sandrone nodded and blinked away whatever had gathered in her eyes. “Of course we can”
They walked again and their three shadows stretched long and thin across the cobblestones.
Columbina memorized everything about the moment. She memorized the way Sandrone laughed softly when their daughter mispronounced a French word. She memorized the way Sandrone's hand fit perfectly in hers. She memorized the way being here felt more like home than any stage ever could.
And she felt the way it still wasn’t fully hers anymore.
As they turned the corner back toward the apartment Sandrone spoke without looking at her. “You don’t have to leave tomorrow”
Columbina’s heart stuttered in her chest.
“But” Sandrone continued carefully “if you stay then don't do it out of guilt”
Columbina squeezed her hand gently. “I’m not staying because you were sick Sandrone”
Sandrone finally glanced at her. “Then why?”
Columbina hesitated. She wanted to say that she still loved her. She wanted to say that she had never stopped and that this felt like a story they hadn't finished writing. Instead she said the only thing that felt safe.
“Because I want to be here with you”
Sandrone didn’t answer. But she didn’t let go of her hand either.
France was quieter at night. The apartment Sandrone grew up in still carried the same soft creaks in the aged floorboards and the same distant hum of the radiator that had lulled her to sleep as a child.
Their daughter was finally asleep in the spare room. She was curled up beneath a heavy quilt that her grandfather had sewn years ago and her breathing was the only steady thing in the house.
Columbina could not sleep. Being here in the heart of Sandrone’s childhood home felt intimate in a way she had not earned.
She slipped out of bed with practiced care and padded into the living room on bare feet.
The television cast a pale blue glow across the walls as she scrolled through the streaming menus.
She picked a horror film without thinking much about it. She always did. She liked horror because it forced her to feel something sharp and immediate.
It gave her fear and adrenaline and a reason for her heart to pound that was not rooted in guilt or regret.
It made the loneliness in her chest feel quieter by comparison. On the screen the music began to swell with an ominous low thrum. Columbina pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.
Down the hall Sandrone stirred in her sleep. She reached out a hand and felt the other side of the mattress. It was cold. For one disorienting second her chest seized with a familiar panic.
She’s gone.
The thought hit her before logic could intervene. She was gone again. Sandrone sat up far too fast and felt her pulse hammer against her chest.
Old muscle memory flooded back. She remembered the hundreds of nights she had woken up to an empty apartment while Columbina chased rehearsals across different time zones. She stepped into the hallway with her heart in her throat.
The flicker of the television light reached her first. Then she saw her. Columbina looked small against the sofa. She was awake. Relief washed through Sandrone so abruptly that it left her feeling lightheaded. She lingered in the doorway and watched the light dance over Columbina's features.
Columbina turned her head slightly. “Hey”
Sandrone folded her arms over her chest instinctively. “What are you doing out here?”
“I couldn’t sleep” Columbina replied softly. “I didn’t want to wake you up by tossing and turning”
Sandrone hesitated and leaned against the doorframe. “I couldn’t sleep either” she said.
It was a lie. She had been sleeping deeply until the cold spot on the bed dragged her into a panic.
Columbina’s eyes flicked back to the screen where something dark was moving in the shadows. “You hate horror movies”
“I don’t hate them”
“You absolutely hate them. You used to cover your eyes during trailers”
Sandrone sniffed lightly and tilted her chin up. “It’s a waste of time. I do not see the appeal in willingly inducing stress”
Columbina’s lips curved into a faint and sad smile. “It makes me feel less alone”
That caught Sandrone off guard. She didn’t ask what that meant because she already knew the answer. Columbina muted the volume and the room became stiflingly quiet. “We can change it to something else. What do you want to watch?”
Sandrone shrugged. “I don’t mind”
“You do mind”
“I don’t”
There was something stubborn in her voice. Something fragile that hadn't quite healed yet. Columbina studied her for a long moment and then shifted slightly on the couch to leave a wide space beside her.
“Okay” she said gently. “Stay then”
Sandrone walked over and sat at the far end of the sofa. She was noticeably far away. The distance between them felt louder than the television when Columbina turned the volume back up.
They watched in silence for a long time. Onscreen a character crept down a dark and narrow hallway. Columbina’s gaze drifted sideways. Sandrone was rigid. Her shoulders were tight and her fingers were curled deep into the fabric of the couch cushion.
Columbina fought the urge to smile at how predictable she was.
Another tense scene built slowly. The music grew higher and sharper as the camera zoomed in. Sandrone shifted. She moved just slightly closer to the center of the cushions.
Columbina pretended not to notice. A door creaked open onscreen with a piercing screech. Sandrone’s knee brushed against Columbina’s thigh. She did not move away. The space between them shrank inch by inch as the tension in the movie reached a peak.
Columbina’s heart pounded but it was not because of the ghost on the screen. She wanted to reach for her. She wanted to bridge that last inch so badly it made her ache.
But she didn’t know if she was allowed to touch her anymore. They were not together. They were just two people made of something fragile and undefined.
Another minute passed. Sandrone’s shoulder was almost touching hers now. Columbina kept her voice light and steady. “Do you want me to hold you?”
Sandrone didn’t look at her. She kept her eyes glued to the television. “You holding me is scarier than the movie”
Columbina huffed a soft and breathy laugh. “Is it really that bad?”
“Yes”
A beat of silence followed.
“Because you leave” Sandrone added quietly.
The words slipped out before she could stop them. Columbina stilled and her smile vanished. Onscreen the silence stretched out as the character reached for a handle. Then a violent jumpscare exploded through the speakers.
Sandrone screamed. It was immediate and instinctive. There was no composure and no restraint. She grabbed Columbina by the front of her shirt and buried her face in the crook of her neck while pressing her body impossibly close.
Columbina reacted just as fast. Her arms wrapped firmly around Sandrone’s waist and held her tight. She held her like she might disappear into thin air if she didn't keep her pinned there. Sandrone’s breath was uneven and hot against her skin.
“I hate this stupid genre” Sandrone muttered into her collarbone.
Columbina’s hand moved to the back of her head automatically. Her fingers threaded into Sandrone's hair and she felt the tension there. “You came out here anyway”
Sandrone didn’t pull away and she didn't loosen her iron grip on Columbina's shirt.
“You weren’t in bed” Sandrone said quietly. “I thought you were gone”
She didn’t finish the sentence but she didn't have to. Columbina understood the depth of that fear. “I’m not going anywhere tonight” Columbina whispered into her ear.
Sandrone’s fingers tightened in the fabric. “You don’t get to promise that” she said and her voice was muffled by Columbina's skin.
Columbina’s chest ached with a dull pain. “I know”
The movie continued in the background but it was forgotten. Sandrone slowly realized she was still clinging to her like a lifeline.
She stiffened slightly as if she were about to pull away and regain her dignity. Columbina’s arms loosened immediately to give her the choice.
But Sandrone didn’t move. Instead she shifted just enough to rest her cheek against Columbina’s shoulder. She stayed close and she kept holding on.
“I still hate horror movies” Sandrone muttered.
Columbina smiled into her hair and felt a spark of warmth. “You’re shaking”
“I am not”
“You screamed”
“There was a sudden loud noise. It was reflex!”
Columbina laughed softly and the sound filled the quiet apartment in a way that felt dangerously like their life before.
Her thumb traced small and slow circles against Sandrone’s side. She didn’t comment on it and she didn't ask for permission. Sandrone didn’t stop her.
Onscreen the tension faded into a calmer scene. On the couch their own tension shifted too. It was less sharp now and more of a deep aching.
Columbina rested her cheek against the top of Sandrone’s head. She let herself hold her for just this one night.
And Sandrone, despite every reason she had to run, let herself stay right where she was.