Fred sat on the edge of his small couch, staring at the flickering light from the television.
The sound was low, almost a whisper, but he wasn’t really watching. His thoughts were far away — lost somewhere between worry and hope. The cup of coffee in his hand had already gone cold. He hadn’t even noticed.
The news of Carson’s return had reached him two days ago. At first, he didn’t believe it. He thought Carson was gone for good — the man who had once broken
Anabelle’s heart and left her to rebuild herself from nothing. But now, knowing he was back, Fred felt something heavy inside his chest. Not anger. Not jealousy. Just a quiet ache he couldn’t explain.
He leaned forward, rubbing his palms together slowly. “He’s back,” he murmured to himself. “And she’s strong now... stronger than b
