Iris
The morning sun filters through the curtains, warming my face and pulling me out of a restless sleep. For a moment, I linger in bed. But it’s not a restful state that I’m in; rather, my mind keeps replaying the events that occurred last night in that alley.
Arthur’s words, his accusations, and most of all that kiss haunt me. My mind is warring between frustration and longing. Maybe it’s because I can still feel his mouth on mine if I shut my eyes, if I run my fingers across my lips. I want to throttle him, but I also
want to throw myself at him..
But I don’t have time to dwell on the past, because my phone suddenly buzzes on the nightstand, jolting me fully awake. When I answer, the enthusiastic voice of the gallery curator greets me.
**Iris,
s, congratulations! Your exhibition is a hit! Almost all the pieces you marked for sale are reserved, and there’s a lineup of galleries and museums wanting to collaborate with you. This is huge!”
Hearing those words sends a rush of relief and excitement through me, temporarily blotting out the pain of last night’s unexpected interaction with Arthur. I jolt upright, clutching my locket. It feels like validation for all my years of hard work, all my
years spent channeling my struggles and pain into my art.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t believe it.”
“Well, believe it,” the curator replies, and I can hear her smile through the phone. “You deserve this, Iris. Your work is fantastic.”
After hanging up, I take a deep breath and smile for what feels like the first time in days, tears of joy in my eyes. This is what I’ve fought for these past five years–starting from scratch, enduring sleepless nights, and balancing motherhood with my passion.
All of it is finally paying off. Right away, I want to celebrate.
A knock at the door brings me back to the present. Brian’s voice follows.
“Iris? Are you up? The twins want you to join them for breakfast.”
“I’ll be right out,” I call back, throwing the covers off of myself. I pad to the wardrobe and pick out a comfortable outfit, then
make
my way out to the kitchen.
At the small, sunlit breakfast nook in the kitchen, Emily and Evan are already giggling over their pancakes, their little faces
lighting up the room brighter than the sun streaming in through the skylight. Brian is pouring coffee, and his partner, Liam, is
trying to coax the twins into eating some fruit.
The sight fills me with a warm sense of belonging. I wish Miles was here, but I still can’t help but smile.
“Today is a big day for you,” Brian says as he hands me a steaming cup of coffee. “Also, don’t forget it’s their birthday today.” He
nods toward the twins.
“How could I forget?” I grin, ruffling Evan’s hair. “What do you two want for your big day?”
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+20 Bonus
“Cake!” Emily declares, her lips smeared with pancake syrup.
“And don’t forget presents,” Evan adds with an impish little smile.
Brian chuckles. “I think we’re already covered on both of those fronts. But Iris, you’ve been working nonstop. Let us treat you to dinner tonight.”
“Absolutely not,” I say firmly. “Let me handle dinner. How about that Italian place near the gallery? I’ve heard great things about
Brian hesitates but eventually relents. “Fine. But only if we get to pick up the tab next time.”
“You’ve got a deal.”
Later in the afternoon when I have some downtime at the gallery, I hurriedly make a reservation at the restaurant, ensuring
everything will be perfect for the twins. By evening, we’re dressed and ready, the kids bouncing with excitement as we pull up
the venue.
As we climb b out of the car, I smooth my hands down the front of my dress, taking a deep breath. I’ve picked out a sleek baby blue
dress that falls just above my knees. My hair is swept up into a high updo, tendrils framing my face, and I’m wearing a pair of low
black pumps. I’ve even thrown on a bit of makeup, something that isn’t terribly common for me.
I feel like a million bucks. And I hope not to run into Arthur again, but if I do, I know I at least look good. Maybe now he won’t
I
think I’m just a poor, practically homeless gold digger with no prospects.
The warm, inviting atmosphere of the restaurant sets the perfect tone, too. We’re shown to a candlelit table in the corner, a large window overlooking the city below.
Ordan has always been beautiful–I’ll give it that. As much as I’ve grown to love the quaint port city of Bo’Arrocan, I still miss the
sights of the towering skyscrapers and cobblestone streets of Ordan, the perfect blend of modern and historical.
So long as I pretend that Arthur doesn’t live here, I can enjoy the city that I used to love.
I smile as Emily and Evan immediately start chattering about the menu, bouncing in their chairs.
But of course the levity doesn’t last long.
We’ve barely just settled into our seats when I feel a familiar presence. I turn to see Arthur entering the restaurant. My stomach tightens. Of all the places in this city, why here? He seems to notice me almost instantly. His gaze lingers on our table, and then,
of course….
The bastard approaches.
“Is this a birthday celebration?” he asks, as if he didn’t just try to
hand me a wad of cash to leave my family behind last night. His
eyes flick briefly to Brian and Liam before returning to me.
The table falls silent. Beside me, I can feel Brian stiffen, that protectiveness of his taking over. But before he can say anything, I straighten my posture, meeting Arthur’s gaze head–on. “Yes, it is.”
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#20 Bonus
Arthur’s expression shifts ever so slightly, as though he’s pieced something together. I know then that he must have found out about Briss
and Liam’s relationship, about the twins. He says nothing more, just nods and returns to a table not far from ours.
“Well, that was awkward,” Liam mutters under his breath, attempting to lighten the mood.
I force a smile. “Let’s not let it ruin the evening.”
We focus on celebrating the twins, enjoying the delicious food and their infectious laughter. But I can’t completely ignore
Arthur’s presence. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him sitting alone, occasionally glancing in our direction. His mood seems
markedly different from the previous night–calmer, almost contemplative.
He must know the truth. And I can’t help but wonder if he’s going to try to use it against me in some way.
As the waiter brings our food out, Emily leans over to me. “Mommy, why is the weird man here again?”
“Just a coincidence, sweetheart,” I say, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
Liam picks up the conversation, steering it back to the kids‘ favorite topic–presents. I try to focus on their excitement, but my mind keeps drifting. Memories of Arthur and the life we could have had together creep in, unbidden and unwelcome.
Lost in thought, I reach for my bowl of soup, misjudging the distance, and tip it. The hot liquid splashes onto my leg, burning my
skin, and I gasp in pain.
Before I can react further, strong arms scoop me up from my chair.
I look up to find Arthur’s face inches from mine.
