Chapter 9: Storms and Endings

7.

No matter how Derek was this past year, I don’t want to deny the Derek of the past.

Memories don’t just disappear, even when you want them to. The good and bad are tangled together like Christmas lights in a box, impossible to separate cleanly.

I’m grateful for his companionship over the years, grateful for the care he once gave me.

We had happy times—road trips with the windows down, movie nights on the couch, lazy Sundays with pancakes and old jazz records. For those moments, I am thankful.

So, I never intended to leave without saying goodbye.

Closure mattered to me. I wanted to tie up the loose ends, to look him in the eye and say the things that needed saying.

But it rained that night.

The sky opened up just after sunset, thunder rolling across the city. I watched the rain streak the windows, the streetlights flickering in the downpour.

Thunder and lightning.

The whole world seemed to shudder with every crack. I pulled a blanket around my shoulders, trying to drown out the memories.

I’m afraid of nights like this.

Storms still make me jumpy—the sharp rattle of wind against the glass, the flash of headlights on wet pavement. I replay the accident in my mind, every time.

That car accident happened on a stormy night just like this one.

The wind was howling, the roads slick. I can still smell the smoke, feel the way my hands shook afterward.

I forced myself to wait for Derek, my body trembling.

I sat on the edge of the couch, phone clutched tight. I told myself I’d wait until midnight, then call it quits.

I was even a bit worried that when he arrived, out of habit from all these years, I’d break down the defenses I’d built over the past month and throw myself into his arms, sobbing.

The fear of backsliding gnawed at me. I pictured myself collapsing against his chest, all the progress I’d made unraveling in a single hug.

But he didn’t come.

The clock hit midnight, then one, then two. I paced the apartment, the storm outside matching the one inside me.

He called me.

The ring was harsh, slicing through the silence. I answered on the second buzz, nerves prickling.

When I answered, there was a lot of noise on the other end.

I could hear laughter, music, the clink of glasses. Someone shouted in the background.

“What redemption? That’s a load of crap.”

Derek’s voice slurred, half-drunk. The words felt like daggers, sharp and deliberate.

“I was annoyed to death by her all those years. If my mom hadn’t forced me, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

The admission hung in the air. I could hear someone snort in agreement.

“Marriage? Guess why we got married so early?”

His words twisted, mocking. I pressed the phone tighter to my ear, my jaw aching.

“Wasn’t it because she wouldn’t let me touch her?”

The humiliation hit me like a wave. I wanted to throw the phone across the room, but couldn’t let go.

“I’m just curious, doesn’t she get aphasia when she’s emotional? What about in bed? Can she even make a sound? Hahaha.”

Their laughter was ugly, cruel. I bit my lip until I tasted blood, tears running down my cheeks.

Rumble—

The thunder outside matched the storm in my chest. Lightning flashed, painting the room in harsh white for a split second.

On this stormy night, it felt like something inside me was torn apart again.

My defenses crumbled. I slid down the wall, knees pulled tight, the weight of everything pressing down on me.

I wanted to hide.

I considered crawling into the closet, burying myself under piles of old sweaters, hoping the world would forget about me.

I didn’t want anyone to see me like this.

Shame prickled my skin. I wanted to disappear, to dissolve into the shadows.

But where could I go?

Everywhere felt unsafe. The apartment, the city, even my own memories.

Everywhere, there was rain, there was thunder.

Everywhere, there was ridicule.

I curled tighter, wishing I could become invisible.

Just then, Luke called.

His name flashed across the screen—steady, unhurried. I wiped my eyes, tried to steady my breathing.

“Emily?”

His voice was always so calm.

Even over the phone, he sounded like solid ground. The noise in my head faded, replaced by his quiet strength.

It made all the noise vanish instantly.

For the first time in hours, I felt seen, understood.

“Are you crying?”

I wanted to say no.

But the words stuck in my throat. My tears spoke for me.

But I couldn’t make a sound.

I pressed my hand to my mouth, trying to stifle the sobs. Silence was all I had left.

Tears seemed to answer for me, pouring out.

The phone was slick in my hand, but I couldn’t let go. Luke waited, patient.

“Wait for me.”

He was still so calm. “I’ll come pick you up.”

His promise was simple, but it meant everything. I closed my eyes, listening to the sound of his breathing, letting hope wash over me for the first time in ages.