Chapter Text
ᴍᴏᴍᴍʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀᴍᴀ,
Tᴏᴅᴀʏ sᴄʜᴏᴏʟ ᴡᴀs ɢᴏᴏᴅ. Dᴀɴɪ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴋ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ sᴄʜᴏᴏʟ ᴀɴᴅ sʜᴇ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴇᴀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ ɪᴄᴇ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴍs. Oɴᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴘɪɴᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏɴᴇ ᴡᴀs ɢʀᴇᴇɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴍᴇʟᴛᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ sʜɪʀᴛ ʙᴜᴛ Dᴀɴɪ sᴀɪᴅ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴏᴍᴍʏ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ sʜᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴍᴀᴅ. I ʀᴀɴᴇᴅ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴠᴇʀʏ ғᴀsᴛ ᴛᴏᴅᴀʏ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ʀᴏᴄᴋᴇᴛ sʜɪᴘ.
Mᴀᴛʜ ɪs sᴛᴜᴘɪᴅ.
I ᴀᴍ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅʀᴀᴡ ᴀ ʙɪɢ ᴘᴜʀᴘʟᴇ ᴜɴɪᴄᴏʀɴ ғᴏʀ ᴍᴀᴍᴀ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ᴘᴜʀᴘʟᴇ ɪs ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇsᴛ ᴄᴏʟᴏʀ ᴇᴠᴇʀ. I ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴜɴɪᴄᴏʀɴs. I ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴀ ᴜɴɪᴄᴏʀɴ ғᴏʀ ᴍʏ ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ.
"B! Dinner's ready! Come on, right now!" —
"Coming!" B screamed back at the door, her little voice straining to carry down the hall.
She turned back to the paper, writing as fast as her hand could go.
Tʜɪs ɪs ᴍʏ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛs ᴇᴠᴇʀ. I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ɢᴏ ɴᴏᴡ ᴇᴀᴛ ғᴏᴏᴅ ʙᴜᴛ I ᴡɪʟʟ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ. Bʏᴇ!
B giggled, a bright, bubbly sound that filled her bedroom, and slammed the journal shut. She ran her small fingers over the front cover, her smile widening. It was covered in a collage of photos—some showed her squeezed tightly between her moms, and others were just pictures of her mommy and mama looking at each other and laughing.
Mama had made the notebook by hand, using scraps of colorful images and glossy glue, and B loved it more than anything else in her room.
She scrambled off the bed, her socks sliding on the hardwood, and sprinted down the hallway. Hurrying into the kitchen, she took a giant leap and jumped.
"Ah!" B screamed, extending her arms out like wings to scare them, but the kitchen was completely quiet.
She landed hard on her feet, the soles of her socks sticking to the floor. She tilted her head, blinking at the empty space. The stove was on, a pot of pasta bubbling softly under a cloud of steam, but neither of her moms was standing by the counter.
Before she could even call out, two hands suddenly clamped around her waist from behind. B gasped, her heart doing a happy little flip as she was hoisted straight up into the air. She yelped and giggled, kicking her legs until she was safely guided down to sit right on top of her mama's shoulders.
"Caught you," Manon murmured, her voice full of that familiar, low warmth as she tilted her head back to look up at her daughter.
Then, right from behind Manon's shoulder, her mommy peeked out. Lara's face broke into a beautiful smile that made her eyes crinkle at the corners.
"You scared me!" B giggled, leaning down to wrap her arms around Manon's head, her fingers accidentally tangling in her mama's hair. "I thought you disappeared forever."
"We're too smart for that," Lara said, reaching up to gently tap the tip of Billie's nose. "What were you up to anyway, B? I had to yell for you twice."
Manon carefully gripped B's waist again, lifting her down from her shoulders and setting her bare feet back onto the kitchen floor.
B smoothed down her shirt, looking up at both of them with wide, serious eyes. "I was having thoughts," she announced proudly.
Lara and Manon looked at each other, then down at B, completely confused.
"You were having thoughts?" Manon asked, her eyebrows pulling together tightly as she stared at her daughter.
B nodded proudly, puffing out her chest.
Manon slowly turned her head toward Lara, her voice dropping into a sharp, dramatic whisper that sounded a lot like actual panic. "Lara... she's having thoughts?"
Lara's lip twitched, trying to fight off a smile as she kept her voice low and even, mumbling, "I don't know."
"She can't have thoughts yet," Manon whispered back urgently, her eyes widening as she waved her hands around. To B, it looked like Mama was getting that funny, fast-breathing face she got when she couldn't find her favorite paintbrush. "She's too young to have thoughts."
B looked quietly between both of them, her eyes darting back and forth as she watched Mama start to fidget with the edge of her shirt.
Lara let out a calm breath and shrugged, keeping her posture relaxed as she looked back at Manon. "I guess it's time for her to have thoughts."
"I'm not ready for her to have thoughts," Manon insisted, shaking her head so hard her hair flew into her face.
Lara tilted her head, a soft, reassuring glint in her eyes as she tried to soothe Manon with a steady look. "It's too late. She already has thoughts."
Manon snapped her attention back down to B, her hands coming up to grip her own knees like she needed to brace herself. "So, you're having thoughts?"
B nodded frantically, a giant smile splitting across her face.
"What—thoughts?" Manon stuttered, her voice squeaking just a little bit.
B just shrugged her small shoulders, keeping her hands hidden behind her back. "That's a secret."
Manon turned back to Lara too quick, her face twisting into a dramatic pout that looked almost like she was about to cry. "Lara..." she said, her voice sounding almost like a plea for backup.
Lara let out a genuine chuckle, completely unfazed by Manon's meltdown. She shook her head at her wife before kneeling down slowly to match B's height, her movements easy and grounded. "What do you mean, B? What kind of thoughts?"
Billie giggled, leaning in a little closer to them. "I was writing like you do—about my thoughts."
Manon tried to stay calm, taking a slow, deep breath as she casually tilted her head. "Can we read it then?"
B vigorously shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest. "No. It has secrets."
Manon nodded slowly, her eyes blinking a little too fast. "Great! Cool, cool, cool."
Before Manon could continue panicking about her daughter growing up and keeping secrets from her, Lara stepped in to change the subject. She patted B's shoulder and smiled. "Dinner is ready."
B squealed with excitement, completely forgetting about everything, and sprinted over to the dining table. She scrambled onto her seat, jumping up and down on the chair with her hands in the air.
Lara laughed at the display, walking over with the plates. "Are you really that hungry, B?"
"No!" B chirped happily, the words flying out of her mouth before she could stop them. "I'm not because I ate two ice creams today!"
Manon gasped loudly from the counter, her jaw dropping as she spun around. "What?"
B instantly froze, her eyes going wide as she clamped her hands over her mouth. "Nothing," she mumbled through her fingers.
Lara closed her eyes and let out a long, heavy sigh. "I'm going to kill Daniela."
Manon walked over to the table, her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowing playfully. "I'll help."
The smell of garlic and warm pasta filled the dining room as they ate. B swung her legs under the table, her fork twisting a messy ball of spaghetti while she listened to her moms talk.
They talked about things she never really understood—words like gallery contracts, budget approvals, and the upcoming youth tournament. It sounded like a completely different language, but B liked the rhythm of it anyway. It meant everything was normal.
Whenever she broke in to tell them about her own day, the grown-up talk stopped instantly. She told them about how her cousin Leo accidentally threw a glue stick at the ceiling and it got stuck, and about how she learned that whales breathe through a hole on top of their heads. Her moms happily listened to everything, leaning their chins on their hands, laughing in all the right places, and looking at her like she was the smartest person in the whole world.
When they finally finished eating, Manon pushed her chair back and stood up, giving Billie a look that meant business. "Alright, kid. Time to shower."
B gasped, her eyes widening. "No!" she screamed, a massive grin splitting across her face as she scrambled off her chair and immediately started running away.
"Get back here!" Manon laughed, kicking off her slippers to get better traction on the hardwood as she bolted after her, but B was fast. She sprinted toward the living room couch, and just as Manon reached out to grab her waist, B smoothly turned and twisted her body, dipping under her mama's arms.
"Hey! No fair!" Manon yelled, laughing as she skidded to a halt and turned back around.
Lara leaned against the kitchen doorway, holding a dish towel, watching the entire chase with an amused smirk.
"Raj, help!" Manon called out, panting a little as she tried to corner B near the television. "She inherited your footwork, she's too slippery!"
Lara just chuckled, casually raising the dish towel and wiping down the same spot on the counter. "Can't," she joked, her eyes glittering with mischief. "I'm way too busy."
B jumped harshly into Manon's arms with a bright, loud giggle. Manon caught her, but the sudden weight made her stumble, almost falling backward as she groaned, laughing through the impact. She repositioned her grip, hoisting B securely into her arms, and looked up at her daughter.
"Are you ready?" Manon asked, adjusting her hold.
B pouted, shaking her head. "No..."
Manon began walking down the hall, adjusting B on her hip. "Why do you hate showers so much, B?"
B went quiet for a second, her little face scrunching up as she seriously considered the question. "I don't like being all sticky after," she decided, nodding to herself.
Lara walked up to join them in the hallway, a soft, easy smile on her face. She reached out, her fingers gently caressing B's cheek before trailing down to rest on Manon's arm right beneath B's legs. "You know, B... a few years ago, your mama used to take baths with ice."
B's eyes went completely wide. She gasped, snapping her head around to look directly at her mama. "Ice?" she yelled dramatically.
Manon laughed at the sheer horror on her daughter's face, nudging Lara playfully with her elbow. "It was good for my muscles, B."
"Mama, you're insane!" B squeaked, throwing her hands up.
"She really is," Lara chimed in with a wink.
Manon rolled her eyes but smiled, looking at B. "One day I can show it to you. You can try it."
B shook her head frantically, her eyes darting between them. "No, no, no."
Lara leaned in a little closer, lowering her voice into a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, B... if you don't go shower right now... mommy will get the ice."
B gasped in pure terror, her small body practically launching itself out of Manon's arms. Her feet hit the floorboards at a full sprint as she bolted down the hallway toward the bathroom, the sound of her frantic, retreating footsteps echoing just beneath her moms' shared, quiet chuckles.
Once she was actually under the water, B decided she didn't mind the shower at all. In fact, she loved the way the warm water cascaded over her head, making her feel like she was standing right under a waterfall. Manon sat on a low stool just outside the tub, a bottle of strawberry-scented shampoo in her hands and a soft towel draped over her shoulder.
"Mama, do fish ever get thirsty?" B asked, tilting her head back into the warm spray so Manon could rinse her hair.
"Well," Manon said, her fingers gently shielding B's eyes from the water. "Freshwater fish don't really drink water because their bodies just absorb it through their skin. But saltwater fish have to drink a lot, or they'll dry out."
"Woah," B breathed, watching a strawberry-scented bubble float down the drain. She quickly thought of another one before Manon could reach for the towel. It was her ultimate secret weapon. B knew that if she kept asking questions, mama would stay there answering them, and the shower would go on and on. It was the perfect plan to delay the dreaded sticky feeling of drying off. "Why do birds fly in a big V?"
"Because the bird at the very front does all the hard work of cutting through the air," Manon explained patiently, reaching for the conditioner. "The birds behind it get an easier ride because of the wind it creates. When the leader gets too tired, it moves to the back, and a new bird takes the front. It's called teamwork."
"Like you and Mommy on the court?" B asked, turning around to face her.
Manon's hands paused for a fraction of a second, her expression softening into something incredibly gentle. "Yeah, B. Exactly like that."
"Okay, but why is the moon pink sometimes?" B pressed, leaning her back against the wet tile, determined to keep the waterfall going for at least another ten minutes. "Is it made of strawberry ice cream?"
Manon let out a soft laugh, squeezing a small dollop of conditioner into her palm. "I wish. But no, it's just the dust and smoke in the air hiding the other colors. It makes the light look pink or red by the time it reaches your eyes."
"I think the ice cream story is better," B decided, wiping a stray drop of water from her chin.
"Me too, kid," Manon smiled, gently tapping B's wet nose. "But nice try. Your hair is clean, the questions are out, and it's time to get out before you turn into a prune."
"What's a prune?" B asked, blinking through the water droplets.
"It's a dried-up plum," Manon said, reaching for the faucet. "They're all wrinkly and purple. Just like your fingers are about to be."
"Why do they dry them?" B quickly pressed, stepping away from the stream to prolong the moment. "Do the plums like being wrinkly?"
"Well, they put them in a special oven—" Manon started, her hand hovering over the handle before she suddenly stopped. She narrowed her eyes, a knowing smile breaking across her face as she finally caught on. "Hey! Wait a minute."
B let out a loud, bubbly giggle, splashing her feet in the tub.
"You're tricking me," Manon scolded playfully, shaking her head. "No more questions. Out you go!"
B laughed harder as Manon reached in, scooping her up out of the warm waterfall and placing her down onto the soft bathroom mat. Manon wrapped the big towel tightly around her, rubbing her arms and legs dry before helping B pull on her favorite matching pajama set.
"I miss Mommy," B sighed heavily, leaning her head against Manon's knee as her hair was gently towel-dried.
Manon chuckled, running the dry cloth over B's shoulders. "You just saw her ten minutes ago, B."
B let out a highly dramatic sigh, staring up at the ceiling. "I miss Dani, then."
"You saw Daniela today too," Manon pointed out, completely amused. "She gave you two ice creams, remember?"
"I miss—"
"Nope," Manon cut her off, tapping B's chin with a grin. "Nice try, kid. You are way too smart for your own good, but it's not going to work. Time for bed."
"Noooooo," B groaned, letting the word drag out into a long, tragic whine as she dropped her head back.
"Come on," Manon said softly, extending her pinky finger down toward her.
B looked at it, pouted, and finally wrapped her own small pinky around her mama's. Smiling, Manon gently tugged and guided her out of the bathroom and down the hall toward her bedroom.
Lara was already waiting in the bedroom, fluffing up B's favorite star-patterned pillow. As Manon led B inside by the pinky, Lara smiled and pulled back the heavy comforter, welcoming her in.
"Alright, bed bug, slide in," Lara said, helping B scramble into the high bed.
B tucked herself in tightly, pulling the blanket right up to her chin so only her wide, curious eyes and wet hair were peeking out. Manon sat down on the edge of the mattress by her feet, while Lara climbed up to sit cross-legged right next to B's head, her fingers immediately finding their way into B's damp curls to gently detangle them.
"Mommy? Mama?" B mumbled from beneath the sheets, pulling the comforter right up to her chin. "Tell me a story—a real one."
Lara looked across the bed at Manon, a heavy, intense wave of nostalgia passing between them. "A real one, huh? What kind of story?"
"About when you were young," B demanded, twisting her legs under the covers. "Before I was here, when you played the game with the ball."
"Ah, the handball days," Manon murmured, leaning back against the wooden footboard. She looked down at B, a sly smirk playing on her lips. "Well, B, your mommy and I were never actually on the same team. We were rivals. And did you know that the very first time we ever played one-on-one, in a park on the grass, your mommy tried to run right through me?"
"I did not!" Lara protested, though a breathless chuckle escaped her. She looked down at B, her eyes narrowing playfully. "Your mama was like a brick wall, B. She stood right in front of the goal, looking all mean and scary, blocking every single shot I took. It was brutal, just the two of us."
"Were you winning, Mommy?" B asked, her eyes wide.
"I was!" Lara said triumphantly. "I scored a jump shot right past her ear, making it three-two. I thought I had her completely beaten."
"But I refused to give up the play," Manon interrupted, leaning forward, her voice dropping into a dramatic, hyper-focused tone. "I took the ball. I used my height, driving hard and straight down the center of the field, bruising my way backward into your mommy's space. I could feel her hands trying to anchor us both, telling me I wasn't getting past her."
"Did you?" B gasped, completely gripped by the story.
"I told her, 'watch me,'" Manon said, her eyes flashing with that old competitive fire. "I did a sudden fake, drew her momentum, and hooked the ball right over her arms. Three-three."
"And then what happened?" B pressed, leaning out of the covers.
"The final point was like a battle," Manon recounted dramatically, gesturing with her hands. "We were both sliding across the grass, staining our clothes with dirt. On the final play, your mommy drove right for the goal, but I timed it perfectly. I planted my sneakers, lunged forward, and stripped the ball straight out of her hands. I leaped into the air and fired a fast shot straight into the corner of the net. Four-three. Game over."
Manon grinned, leaning in closer to B. "We went down together, rolling across the turf. I looked right at your mommy, and told her there wasn't a world where she could beat me."
Lara let out a loud, scoffing gasp, tossing her head back. "Oh, please! You completely omitted the part where you cheated to win!"
"I didn't cheat!" Manon laughed, throwing her hands up defensively.
"You literally threw your entire body weight into me, Bannerman, and hacked my wrist on the final strip!" Lara argued, her lip twitching as she pointed a finger at her wife.
B let out a loud, bubbly giggle, turning her head back and forth to watch them banter. "What happened next?"
The playful bickering cut off instantly.
An abrupt, heavy silence blanketed the bedroom. Manon's hands paused in mid-air, her chest tightening as the vivid memory of what actually happened next flashed behind her eyes.
Manon cleared her throat quickly, her expression turning incredibly awkward. "Uh... after that... we got in the car, and we drove back to the hotel."
Lara's posture stiffened slightly, her cheeks flushing a faint pink as she awkwardly and quickly agreed, looking anywhere but at Manon. "Yep. Yes. Exactly. We just... got right in the car. Drove straight back to the hotel. It was a very quiet drive."
B blinked, looking between them, a little disappointed by the sudden anti-climactic ending. "Oh. Okay." She tilted her head, her small brow furrowing. "I thought there was a prize. Don't winners get a prize?"
The tension in the room spiked. Manon shifted uncomfortably on the edge of the mattress, while Lara nervously cleared her throat again, the awkwardness practically radiating off both of them.
"No," Manon said quickly, her voice a little too high. "No prize. No, there wasn't any prize at all."
"None," Lara echoed sharply, nodding rapidly as she tucked the blanket tighter around B's shoulders, desperate to bury the subject. "Just a car ride. Now, close your eyes, B. It's way past your bedtime."
They tucked the comforter securely under B's chin, leaning in together to press soft, kisses against her warm cheeks. But just as they stood up and turned to leave the room, a small voice called out from the darkness of the pillows.
"I want Barnaby."
Lara smiled, her posture instantly relaxing as she walked over toward the toy basket in the corner of the room. As she reached down and grabbed the teddy bear, her eyes caught on something else resting right beside it—a small, brightly colored notebook.
She picked up the bear, but she also lifted the notebook, turning back toward the bed with an amused glint in her eyes. "Is this where you were having thoughts, B?"
B nodded proudly, her chin lifting from the blankets.
Curious, Manon walked over to stand right beside Lara, leaning her shoulder against her wife's as Lara gently cracked the cover open. Their eyes scanned the very first page, catching the first line written in B's messy, giant handwriting, before B suddenly scrambled up.
"No! You can't read it!" B shouted, waving her arms dramatically.
Manon chuckled, holding up a hand. "But B, the first line says it's written to Mommy and Mama."
B paused, her face scrunching up as she tried to explain her logic. "Because I just don't understand what 'Dear Diary' means," she mumbled, crossing her arms. "It's weird writing to nothing. So I write it for you... but you can't read it."
Lara and Manon looked at each other, sharing a quiet, affectionate chuckle at the flawless seven-year-old logic.
"That's fair," Lara said softly.
They walked back to the bed together. Manon took the notebook and placed it gently on the nightstand, ensuring it was safe, while Lara handed the plush teddy bear over to B. B immediately wrapped her arms tightly around Barnaby, tucking him under her chin.
For the final time, they tucked the blankets in tight, smoothed back her damp curls, and gave her one last kiss.
"Goodnight, B," they whispered in unison, stepping back into the hallway and leaving the door cracked just enough for the warm hallway light to guide her to sleep.
-
The hum of jazz music drifted over the crowded dining room of the restaurant, competing with the clinking of expensive crystal and the low murmur. The lighting was meticulously dim, designed to make everything look intimate and costly, casting long shadows across the white tablecloth between Lara and the woman sitting across from her.
They were already midway through their main course. Lara kept her fingers wrapped around the stem of her wine glass, her thumb mindlessly tracing the smooth glass. She had barely touched her food.
The woman took an elegant sip of her chardonnay, setting it down precisely before leaning forward with an inviting, practiced smile, resting her chin on her hand. "So," she said, her eyes locked onto Lara's. "I feel like we've covered the basics, but I have to ask... do you have any kids?"
"I do," Lara replied, her voice smooth but lacking any real edge or enthusiasm. "I have a daughter."
The woman's smile widened, her eyes lighting up with conversational interest. "Oh, how lovely! What's her name? How old is she?"
"Billie," Lara said, keeping it brief. "She's eight."
"Eight! That is such a fun age," the woman laughed softly, cutting a small piece of her food. "They start developing their own little personalities at eight, don't they? Becoming real little people with their own opinions and attitudes. My nephew just turned eight and suddenly he thinks he runs the house."
"Yeah," Lara murmured, a faint, fleeting ghost of a smile touching the corner of her lips before it evaporated just as quickly. She definitely thinks she runs the house, Lara thought. A sharp, distinct image of B's fierce independence, her dramatic flare, and her stubborn refusal to ever admit defeat flashed in Lara's mind. B was growing up so fast, becoming so entirely herself, yet Lara couldn't shake the sudden, heavy ache that settled in the center of her chest. It was a familiar, suffocating weight she had been carrying around for months, a constant reminder of how complicated and fractured everything had become.
To swallow the bitterness down, Lara took a slow, measured sip of her wine.
"Is she more like you, or does she take after her other parent?" the woman asked tentatively, testing the waters of Lara's home life.
"A bit of both, honestly," Lara said, her throat tightening slightly at the question. "She has a lot of energy. Too much, sometimes."
"Oh, I can only imagine! You must have your hands completely full," the woman chuckled, gesturing gracefully with her fork as she launched into a long story about her nephew's recent soccer tournament. From there, she seamlessly segued into a critique of the restaurant's current wine list, comparing it to a vineyard she had visited in Italy last summer, and eventually moved on to a detailed breakdown of her latest project in corporate marketing. "It's just so much pressure with the new deadlines, you know? Everyone expects miracles overnight."
"Right," Lara said.
"But I guess every industry is like that now," the woman continued, leaning back slightly. "You just have to learn to play the game, don't you think?"
"Yeah, definitely."
Lara nodded at all the right intervals. She hummed in approval when the woman made a point, and she tilted her head to feign focus whenever the woman paused for emphasis. But truth be told, Lara wasn't really there. Her eyes kept tracking the waiters crossing the floor, the condensation sliding down her water glass, the way the candlelight flickered against the polished silverware.
Every word the woman spoke seemed to bounce off Lara like a dull echo. She tried to force herself to be invested. She had promised herself she would try, that she would put herself out here, that she would attempt to navigate this new reality, but the sheer gravity of her own secrets kept pulling her backward into the dark.
The woman suddenly stopped talking mid-sentence. She lowered her fork, watching Lara with a sharp, perceptive gaze that made Lara's internal radar blink. The woman didn't look angry. Instead, a small, knowing chuckle escaped her lips as she leaned back against her velvet chair.
"You're not much of a talker, are you?" the woman pointed out, her tone laced with amusement rather than offense.
Lara let out a quiet chuckle of her own, the sound slightly raspy. She didn't hesitate, immediately seizing the golden opportunity to hide behind the excuse. "No," Lara lied smoothly, offering a small, apologetic shrug. "I'm really not. I'm sorry. I've always been a bit more on the quiet side."
It was a blatant lie, of course. Around the right person, Lara could talk for hours. She could bicker, she could banter, she could argue about nothing and everything until her voice went hoarse. She could laugh until her ribs ached in a hallway over ice baths and stolen desserts.
But out here, in this fancy restaurant, looking at a stranger across a white tablecloth, Lara felt completely hollowed out. A profound sense of guilt twisted in her stomach, heavy and unyielding.
The most damning part of it all was the quiet, brutal realization that hit her as she stared across the table. As the woman smiled warmly and accepted her apology, launching into another easy topic to fill the silence, Lara realized with a sudden jolt that she could barely even remember the woman's name. It had started with an J, but the name had completely slipped through the cracks of Lara's exhausted, conflicted mind, leaving her entirely adrift on a date she never should have agreed to in the first place.
The rest of the dinner passed in a blur of polite nods and half-empty plates. Lara managed to play her part well enough, offering quiet smiles whenever the woman laughed, but the emotional distance between them remained as wide as the ocean. When the check finally arrived, Lara reached for it out of habit, but the woman insisted on splitting it, her fingers brushing against Lara's hand for just a second too long as the cards slid onto the silver tray.
Finally, they stepped out of the stifling heat of the restaurant into the crisp night air. Valet cars were idling along the curb, headlamps cutting through the dim exhaust smoke.
The woman turned to Lara, wrapping her coat a little tighter around herself. "My car is parked right around the corner," she said, her voice dropping into a softer, more deliberate register. "Let me give you a ride home. It's too late for you to be catching a cab."
Lara hesitated for a fraction of a second, looking at her. She didn't feel a spark, she didn't feel a connection, and she didn't even particularly like the woman. But the thought of going back to the crushing, absolute quiet of her own head made her reach for whatever distraction was closest. "Sure," Lara said softly, her voice cool and detached. "Thank you."
The walk to the car was quiet, but the air between them had shifted into a heavy, charged anticipation. When the woman unlocked the vehicle, she opened the passenger door for Lara, her hand resting lightly against the small of Lara's back. Lara didn't lean into the touch, she simply tolerated it, letting the friction of it serve as a temporary anchor.
Once they were inside the quiet cabin of the car, the engine purring to life, the silence returned.
As the woman shifted the car into drive, she rested her arm on the center console, her fingers lightly trailing along the seam of Lara's jeans, hovering just above her knee. Lara looked down at the hand. It felt entirely foreign, completely wrong, but it was an opportunity to feel something—anything other than the hollow ache that had been governing her life.
Deliberately, Lara turned her palm upward, letting her own fingers slowly intertwine with the woman's. The contact was a silent, calculated flirtation. The woman's thumb traced lazy circles against the back of Lara's hand, and Lara squeezed back, her heart hammering a dark rhythm.
They navigated the city streets, the passing streetlights casting rhythmic patterns of light and shadow across their faces. The touching continued—slow, lingering strokes along Lara's forearm, a brief hold of hands at every red light. Lara watched the road ahead, completely detached from the person next to her.
As they neared a shadowed side street a few blocks away from her place, Lara finally broke the silence. Her voice was lower now, raspy and devoid of the polite dinner-table tone.
"Pull over here," Lara said, her eyes fixed on the empty stretch of curb beneath a sprawling oak tree. "Park the car."
The woman's lips parted in a slow, knowing smile. She didn't ask questions. She smoothly guided the car into the dark space beneath the branches, switching off the headlights and putting the vehicle in park.
The moment the engine died, the sudden stillness was deafening.
Lara didn't let the silence linger long enough for her own guilt to catch up to her. Before the woman could even turn fully in her seat, Lara unbuckled her seatbelt and launched herself across the center console. She didn't look at the woman's face, and she didn't care about the name she still couldn't remember. She just needed a shadow to hide in.
Lara gripped the woman's jacket, pulling her close with a rough desperation, and crashed her lips down onto hers in a breathless kiss.
The kiss was unyielding, driven by a need to drown out the noise in her head. Lara's fingers tightened like a vice around the lapels of the woman's jacket, bunching the fabric right near her neck as she pressed deeper into the kiss, using the physical friction to force her mind to go completely blank.
Sensing the sudden shift in momentum, the woman reached blindly to her side and hit the lever on her seat, sending it sliding backward with a mechanical click. The movement opened up the cramped cabin, creating a wide gap over the center console.
Lara didn't hesitate for a single second. Taking full advantage of the space, she shifted her weight and climbed over the console, swinging her legs around to sit squarely on the woman's lap. She didn't let their lips part for even a heartbeat, blocking out the rest of the world with the sheer weight of her body.
A quiet gasp was swallowed between them as the woman's hands immediately came alive, sliding up Lara's thighs, over her hips, and tracing the sharp curve of her waist. She touched every single part of Lara's body she could reach, her palms warm and frantic under the dim dashboard light.
Lara liked the sensation—she craved the raw reality of it, the purely biological distraction of hands on her skin that demanded absolutely nothing from her heart.
Determined to keep control of the narrative, Lara slid one hand up from the jacket, her fingers wrapping firmly around the back of the woman's neck. She anchored her thumb right under the woman's jawline, pinning her in place against the headrest.
With the woman secured beneath her, Lara slowly rocked her hips, setting a deliberate, punishing pace. She closed her eyes, completely detached from the identity of the person holding her, taking exactly what she wanted from the moment and leaving no room for anything else.
A low, breathless moan broke between them, swallowed up as the heat inside the windows began to fog the glass. Lara parted her lips from the woman's, tracing a path of kisses down the line of her jaw and pressing her mouth hard against the warm pulse point of her neck.
The woman let out a ragged sigh, her hands gripping Lara's hips firmly to help guide the rhythm, anchoring her as Lara moved against her. The friction was intense, a sudden surge of friction that made a sharp wave of pleasure ripple straight through Lara's core. She tilted her head back, her throat exposed in the dim light of the dashboard as it started feeling incredibly good, her eyes closing tight against the rush of it.
Below her, the woman looked up, her gaze dark and heavily hooded as she took in the sight of Lara above her. She licked her own lips hungrily at the view before pulling herself up to bury her face back in the crook of Lara's neck, peppering wet kisses along her collarbone.
Lara's grip on the woman's neck tightened, her fingers digging in as she instinctively moved faster, chasing the physical high that was finally forcing her mind to stay completely silent.
The weight of the moment shifted heavily as the woman's hand traveled down, her fingers working quickly and efficiently to undo the button of Lara's jeans. She slid her hand past the denim, her palm warm as it slipped inside, making direct contact with Lara's bare skin. The moment those fingers touched her, a moan escaped Lara's throat, echoing softly in the quiet street.
The fingers slipped deeper, slick and warm against Lara's highly sensitive skin. The woman let out a ragged breath, a dark smile pulling at her lips as she adjusted to the tight heat.
"God, you're so wet," the woman murmured, her voice a husky rasp against Lara's ear.
She didn't wait for an answer, immediately curling her hand and moving her fingers in a circle, pressing right against the core of Lara's pleasure. A sharp moan tore from Lara's throat, her fingers knotting into the fabric of the car seat behind the woman's head.
"Does it feel good?" the woman whispered, pushing her fingers a fraction deeper, keeping up the steady friction.
Lara's head fell back against the headrest, her eyelids heavy and tightly closed. "Yes," she breathed out, a desperate, broken syllable. "Yes, right there."
The woman continued the relentless movement, her thumb sweeping over the hypersensitive node above her fingers, keeping Lara suspended in a sharp, building haze. "You're so beautiful, Lara," the woman murmured, leaning up to press wet kisses along her jaw. "I'm so glad we're doing this."
Lara was barely hearing a single word of the praise. The voice sounded distant, like it was echoing from the end of a long tunnel. Her mind refused to process the compliments, completely untethered from the identity of the person speaking them. Instead, Lara's thoughts were entirely consumed by a selfish focus—she just needed this to feel good. She needed the friction, the heat, and the overwhelming sensory overload to build until it completely obliterated the quiet void inside her.
The weight of the pleasure spiked violently when the woman's free hand traveled up beneath Lara's shirt, her palm sliding over the bare skin of her ribs before firmly cupping her breast. She squeezed, her thumb rolling over the tight nipple, and Lara moaned again, a more uninhibited sound that vibrated right against the woman's mouth.
Sensing that Lara was right on the edge, the woman shifted her grip and moved her fingers inside her much faster, driving them in and out in a ruthless, rapid rhythm that left Lara completely breathless.
The rapid pace became completely overwhelming. The woman's fingers were a blur inside her, hitting the exact spot over and over until the heat in Lara's lower stomach tightened into a hard, coiled spring. The pressure built to an unbearable peak, pulling Lara completely under the surface of the pleasure.
Suddenly, the spring snapped.
Lara's entire body went rigid, her hips locking as a violent, crushing wave of an orgasm tore through her. Her mind completely fractured under the intensity, the sheer physical overload tearing down the walls she had spent months building. As the pleasure peaked, a name instinctively rushed up her throat, tearing past her lips before she could stop it.
"Ma—"
Panic flared violently through the haze. With a desperate, choked effort, Lara forcefully swallowed the rest of the name down, violently twisting the sound before it could fully form in the quiet space of the car.
"—Oh, fuck!" she cried out instead, her voice cracking harshly as she shuddered against the woman's hand.
Before Lara could even process how dangerously close she had just come to ruining everything, the woman pulled herself up and pressed her lips firmly against Lara's mouth, capturing the tail end of her breathless gasps.
Beneath the fog of her release, a dark, twisted wave of relief washed over Lara. In her mind, she silently, fervently thanked the woman for the kiss—because if her mouth hadn't been blocked right then, she knew the rest of that name would have slipped out. A name that absolutely should not be spoken in this car.
When the woman finally pulled back, they were both breathing heavily, the air in the cabin thick and stifling. Lara kept her eyes tightly shut, her forehead resting against the woman's shoulder as she listened to the frantic thumping of her own heart, waiting for the trembling in her thighs to stop.
The woman let out a breathless laugh, her hands lingering softly on Lara's waist. "God, Lara... that was incredible," she panted, her voice dripping with smug satisfaction. "You're amazing."
Lara didn't move. She simply kept her eyes closed, focused entirely on the steady, rhythmic rise and fall of her own chest, letting the cool air hit her damp skin.
The woman leaned in again, trailing soft, lingering kisses along the side of Lara's neck, her breath warm against her collarbone. "So responsive," the woman murmured against her skin, offering another gentle kiss. "I knew you'd be quiet, but wow. You're so perfect like this."
Lara opened her eyes, forcing a soft, practiced smile onto her face as she looked down at the woman. She leaned in, pressing a kiss to her lips before pulling back slightly.
"Do you want to—?" Lara asked softly, keeping her voice low and even, offering the polite reciprocation out of sheer obligation.
The woman chuckled, her hands sliding up to rest comfortably on Lara's waist as she looked up with a playful, heavy-lidded gaze. "What I want," she joked, a teasing smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth, "is to take you back to my bed and continue this all night."
Lara's eyes almost widened, a sudden spike of panic hitting her chest at the thought of prolonging this any further. She quickly caught herself, masking the reaction behind a soft, breathy chuckle as she shook her head.
"I really have to go home," Lara said smoothly, injecting just enough regret into her tone to make it believable.
The woman smiled, though a faint hint of disappointment flickered in her eyes before she let it go. "I understand," she murmured, her thumbs rubbing small circles against Lara's hips. "But this was amazing."
"Yeah," Lara lied quietly, nodding in agreement. "It was."
With careful movements, Lara shifted her weight and climbed off the woman's lap, stepping back over the center console and sliding back into the passenger seat. The moment she was clear, the woman reached down and hit the lever, adjusting the driver's seat back into its upright position with a quiet mechanical hum.
Before shifting the car back into drive, the woman leaned across the console one last time, her hand gently cupping Lara's jaw to pull her into a sweet, parting kiss. Lara accepted it passively, letting out a quiet breath as the woman finally let go, gripped the steering wheel, and pulled the car back out onto the quiet street.
The drive was heavy and quiet, the passing streetlights casting rhythmic shadows across the dashboard until the car finally pulled up against the curb in front of Lara's apartment building.
The woman smiled softly as she shifted the vehicle into park, the engine dropping into a low, quiet idle. An awkward, heavy silence settled over the small cabin. They sat there for a moment, neither of them quite looking at the other, the air thick with an unspoken, lingering tension.
"So..." the woman finally murmured, trailing off.
Lara took the lead, forcing a polite, easy smile onto her face to break the ice. "This was fun," she said, her voice smooth but entirely transactional.
"Yeah," the woman agreed, her eyes searching Lara's face. "It really was."
Another thick silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the distant hum of city traffic. Lara shifted slightly in her seat, her hand instinctively drifting toward the door handle.
"I should go," Lara said quietly.
"Right. Yeah, of course," the woman agreed, though she didn't move away.
The quiet returned, heavy and uncomfortable. Desperate to just end the night and escape to the safety of her apartment, Lara let out a breathy, awkward, "So..."
The woman cleared her throat, shifting in her seat to face Lara fully. She opened her mouth, about to ask, "When can we—"
But before the sentence could even finish, Lara cut her off smoothly, offering a quick, practiced line. "I'll call you."
The woman's expression softened into a relieved smile. "Okay," she said softly.
She leaned across the console, pressing one last, lingering kiss to Lara's lips. "Bye, Lara."
"Bye," Lara replied. She unlatched the door, stepped out of the car into the cool night air, and shut the door behind her. Without looking back, she walked straight into the lobby of her building, leaving the quiet street—and the evening—firmly behind her.
She walked up the stairs quietly, mindful of the heavy silence hanging over the building and knowing exactly how late it was. Her eyes briefly drifted toward the flight leading up to Daniela's apartment. They had planned for Lara to stop by afterward, to recount how the night had gone, but the sheer exhaustion crashing down on her made the thought unbearable. She was just too tired. All she wanted was to crawl into bed and let the day disappear.
Reaching her own floor, she slipped her key into the lock, turning it with painstaking slowness to make as little noise as possible. She pushed the door open, stepped into the dark entryway, and carefully slid her heels off without letting them clack against the floor.
She navigated the familiar shadows of the apartment, heading straight for the kitchen. Her throat felt dry, a lingering reminder of the wine and the frantic heat of the car. She poured herself a glass of cold water and drank it down in long, grateful swallows, staring blankly at the dim outline of the window.
"Hi."
Lara jumped, her heart leaping into her throat as the water nearly went down the wrong pipe. She spun around, clutching her chest. "Fuck, you scared me," she breathed, her voice a ragged whisper.
Manon stood just at the edge of the kitchen's shadow, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her hair was slightly mussed, her face pale in the faint moonlight cutting through the room. "Where were you?" Manon asked quietly.
Lara swallowed, trying to steady her racing pulse. "Out," she said, setting the empty glass on the counter. "I thought you were asleep. I'm sorry if I woke you."
Manon shook her head slowly. She took a few steps forward, her bare feet making no sound on the floorboards, and leaned heavily against the kitchen counter. "I couldn't sleep," she murmured, her eyes fixed on Lara.
The heavy air between them felt fragile, loaded with all the things they hadn't been saying. Lara looked at her for a long moment before turning back to the sink. She refilled the glass with cold water, then slid it across the smooth countertop toward her. Manon reached out, took the glass, and drank from it silently, her eyes never leaving Lara's face.
She set the glass down with a soft click. "Did you go to a bar?" Manon asked.
Lara opened her mouth, the instinct to lie rising quickly to the surface—to mention a solo drink, anything to deflect the sudden, suffocating weight in the room—but looking at Manon leaning against the counter, the exhaustion won out. The energy required to maintain a lie was simply gone.
"No," Lara said quietly.
Manon's gaze sharpened, a faint, painful shift in her expression that lasted only a fraction of a second before her face went entirely still. "A date?"
Lara let out a long, heavy sigh, the sound echoing softly in the dark kitchen.
"Was it fun?" Manon asked, her voice quiet, almost completely devoid of accusation. It was worse that way—just a flat, weary curiosity.
Lara let out a bitter scoff, her shoulders dropping. "It never is," she muttered, looking down at her own hands.
A suffocating silence stretched between them, filling the small distance across the kitchen counter. Desperate to shift the focus away from the phantom of the fancy restaurant and the car she had just climbed out of, Lara cleared her throat.
"Is B in bed?" she asked softly.
Manon nodded once. "Yeah."
Moving in unison like two people who knew each other by heart, they walked out of the kitchen and into the living room.
The room was dark, illuminated only by the faint amber glow of the streetlights outside. Lara sank into one end of the couch, and after a moment of hesitation, Manon sat on the opposite end, leaving a careful expanse of cushions between them.
"She fell asleep on the floor watching Twilight again," Manon said, a tiny, tired smile pulling at the corner of her lips.
Lara let out a genuine laugh—the first real, unforced sound to leave her throat the entire night. The hollow ache in her chest eased just a fraction. "God, she really is your daughter," Lara murmured, shaking her head.
Manon laughed too, a breathy sound that felt incredibly familiar. "Hey, I tried to make her watch a cartoon. She insisted."
"I highly doubt you tried that hard," Lara teased, a faint spark of her old self returning to her eyes.
"Okay," Manon chuckled, resting her head back against the cushion. "But you have to admit, the kid has impeccable taste. Classic cinema."
"If you can call teenage vampires classic cinema," Lara said, nudging Manon's foot with her own before remembering herself and pulling back. "Did she ever watch those recent remakes?"
Manon groaned dramatically, rolling her eyes. "Oh, please. She turned the first remake off after ten minutes. Looked right at me and said the vampires look fake. I've never been prouder as a parent."
Lara laughed again, the shared memory of Manon's absolute obsession with the original movies filling the space between them. For a second, the heavy air in the apartment felt lighter, almost warm, carrying them back to a time when their biggest argument was who got to control the TV remote.
But then the laughter tapered off. It grew quiet, then still, until the silence rushed back in to claim the room. The contrast between the cold distraction in the car and the quiet, domestic reality of this couch made Lara feel entirely split in two.
"You smell like someone else's perfume," Manon said quietly, her eyes dropping to the fabric of Lara's jacket. She didn't sound angry, she just sounded incredibly tired.
Lara swallowed hard, her throat tightening. "I'll wash it."
"You don't have to," Manon replied, looking back up to meet her eyes. "You're allowed to go on dates, Raj. We... we agreed."
"I know what we agreed to," Lara said, her voice dropping into a raspy whisper. She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, trying to make herself as small as possible. "It just feels like a joke—the whole thing. Sitting across from someone I don't know, trying to remember their name, pretending like I'm actually there."
"Were you? There?"
Lara looked at Manon, taking in the sharp line of her jaw, the familiar way she held herself even when everything was broken.
"No," Lara said aloud, her voice cracking slightly. "I wasn't."
Manon looked away, her fingers mindlessly tracing a seam on the couch. "Maybe you just haven't met the right person yet."
"I don't want to," Lara said bluntly, the honesty bleeding out of her before she could stop it. "I don't want to be doing any of this."
"Then why do you?" Manon asked, her voice cracking just a little, revealing the raw edges beneath her calm facade.
"Because staying in this house and pretending like we're just... roommates who share a kid is suffocating," Lara whispered, staring at the space between them on the couch. "Because I don't know what else to do."
Manon flinched as if she'd been struck, her jaw tightening as she stared across the expanse of the couch. "Pretending?" she repeated, her voice dropping into a dangerous, low register.
"What else do you call this, Manon?" Lara snapped, sitting up straighter, the exhaustion suddenly morphing into a sharp, erratic spike of adrenaline. "We dodge each other in the hallway. We coordinate schedules like business partners. And then you sit up waiting for me to ask if my date was fun? It's sick."
"I was waiting up because I care about you!" Manon hissed, leaning forward, closing a few inches of the distance between them.
"Don't do that. Don't act like you're the martyr here," Lara spat back, sliding closer to the center of the cushions, her eyes flashing with a months-long buildup of resentment. "You're the one who wanted this space. You're the one who said we needed to figure things out. So I'm out there trying to figure it out, and I come home to a cross-examination."
"Keep your voice down!" Manon cut in fiercely, her eyes darting toward the hallway. "B is sleeping right down the hall. If she wakes up and sees us like this—"
"Like what?" Lara whispered harshly, her face now only inches from Manon's. The heat radiating off her was a stark contrast to the cold touch of the woman in the car. This was loud, it was violent, and it was entirely them. "Frustrated? Bitter? Furious that we can't even figure out how to exist in the same room anymore?"
"You think I want it to be like this?" Manon's voice cracked, her breath hitching as she stared at Lara's lips, her hands trembling where they gripped her own knees. "You think any of this is easy for me?"
"Then don't act like you have a right to be angry!" Lara snapped back, her voice a desperate, furious thread of sound. She grabbed the collar of Manon's shirt, pulling her forward until there was no space left between them at all, her eyes flashing with pure spite. "You don't get to look at me like I'm the one breaking the rules when you're the one who set them in the first place! You don't get to have it both ways, Manon!"
"I am not trying to have it both ways!" Manon threw back, her voice a vicious hiss as she gripped Lara's wrists, trying to pry her fingers off her shirt but only pulling her closer instead. "You're the one who completely checked out months ago! You use everything as an excuse to run away so you don't have to deal with us!"
"Because there is nothing left to deal with!" Lara growled, her breath hot against Manon's skin. "We're broken, Manon! We do this every single week, we scream at each other, and nothing changes! I am so sick of the fighting!"
"Then stop fighting me!" Manon yelled back, an angry sob catching in her throat as she stared at Lara's mouth, her grip on Lara's wrists tightening until it bruised.
"I hate you," Lara whispered, the lie tasting like poison on her tongue, her fingers digging deeper into the fabric of Manon's collar.
"Yeah," Manon spat. "I hate you too."
And before either of them could utter another syllable of the endless, spinning argument, Lara lunged forward, slamming her mouth against Manon's with a bruising force. It wasn't a gentle reunion, it was a collision of sharp teeth and raw resentment. Manon let out a muffled gasp against Lara's lips, opening her mouth to fire back another insult, but Lara captured the sound instantly, forcing her tongue past Manon's teeth.
Manon didn't pull away. Instead, she met the intrusion with a matching hunger, her own tongue tangling with Lara's in a frantic, bitter rhythm that tasted of cold water and swallowed pride.
Shifting her weight, Lara climbed fully onto the couch, driving Manon backward into the cushions. She slid her hand up from the collar, her fingers wrapping tightly around the front of Manon's neck with a heavy pressure that pinned her flat against the armrest.
Lara pressed her entire body down, laying completely on top of Manon, burying her hips into the soft space between Manon's thighs. The sheer weight of Lara's body forced a ragged moan from the back of Manon's throat, a sound that vibrated directly into Lara's lips.
Manon's hands came alive, her nails digging hard through the fabric of Lara's shirt, scratching up her back to grip her shoulders, pulling Lara down even harder as if trying to crush the remaining air out of both of them. They kissed through the friction, their lips slick and moving with punishing speed, neither of them willing to give an inch, turning their mutual fury into a desperate battlefield.
Lara pulled back just an inch, her breathing ragged and shallow in the quiet of the living room. She gripped Manon's neck tighter, her thumb brushing slowly over the sensitive skin just under her jawline.
Manon's head tilted back against the armrest, her lips parting as she gasped for the air Lara had just stolen from her. But even out of breath, even pinned beneath the weight of their wreckage, Manon smirked. It was an infuriating, sharp little tilt of her lips that made Lara's blood boil all over again.
Neither of them said a word. The silence returned, because they both knew there was absolutely nothing left to say. The arguments were exhausted, the logic was gone, and only the raw, physical spite remained.
Reaching up between their pressed bodies, Manon grabbed the hem of Lara's shirt. Her movements were rough, impatient, bunching the fabric and pulling it over Lara's head in one swift, aggressive motion before tossing it blindly onto the floor.
The moment the cool air hit her bare skin, Lara's hand moved right back to Manon's jaw, her fingers locking onto the bone, anchoring her in place as she leaned back down.
Manon let out a mocking scoff against Lara's mouth. Her hands flew to Lara's bare back, her nails digging hard into the skin, dragging upward harshly, and making Lara wince, a sharp intake of breath catching in her throat.
Before Lara could recover, Manon arched her back, using the sudden leverage to shift their momentum entirely. She pushed Lara down hard into the deep cushions of the couch, trapping her beneath her weight.
For a fraction of a second, the last remaining thread of Lara's logic screamed at her to fight it—to push Manon off, to grab her clothes, and to walk out—but as Manon hovered over her in the shadows of the room, her dark gaze anchoring Lara to the fabric beneath her, the resistance evaporated. It was an old, toxic, deeply ingrained habit, a familiar script they both knew entirely by heart.
Giving in to the gravity of it, Lara reached up and pulled Manon down with her, closing the final inch of distance as she let herself sink right back into the inescapable quicksand of their undoing.