Chapter 4 Memories

Vivianne had walked away from this place years ago-its cobbled streets, its golden light, and the memories that clung to every stone like ivy. She left with nothing but a flicker of hope and a secret growing quietly inside her. A heartbeat born of a love no one knew existed.

Now, she was back.

"Mummy!!"

A familiar giggle broke through her thoughts as Sarah sprinted toward her, arms flailing, curls bouncing wildly.

Vivianne bent down and caught her just in time. "Hey, slow down there, little rocket!"

Sarah threw her arms around her mother's neck. "Guess what, mummy?"

Vivianne smiled, brushing her lips against Sarah's cheek. "Hmm... let me guess. You saw a butterfly wearing sunglasses?"

Sarah gasped. "Nooo! I saw a shop with sooo many candies! It's like a candy mountain!"

"Uh oh," Vivianne teased, arching a brow. "And what do we say before we climb the mountain?"

Sarah folded her hands, eyes wide with exaggerated sweetness. "Please... please, pretty mummy! I want candy! Candy, candy!"

Vivianne chuckled, tugging playfully at her daughter's ponytail. "Alright, little monster. But just one, okay? We don't want another frog-jumping incident."

Sarah nodded seriously. "I remember. Too much sugar makes me jump like a frog and talk like a robot!"

They both laughed as they walked hand in hand toward the small corner shop that Vivianne hadn't seen in six years. It still had the same striped awning. Same faded red shutters. It hit her like a wave. Everything had changed, but some things stayed exactly the same.

Vivianne felt her throat tighten. The weight of return-of memory-settled deep.

Sarah clutched her candy proudly. "Mummy, where are we? Is this where you grew up?"

Vivianne paused, glancing at the ivy-covered wall beside the shop. She nodded slowly. "Yes, baby. This is where mummy lived... before."

"Before what?" Sarah tilted her head.

Vivianne knelt beside her, voice quiet. "Before you."

Sarah blinked. "Was it nice?"

Vivianne's eyes scanned the street. The balcony above the café. The bench by the fountain. All pieces of a life she used to know. Pieces of him. "Sometimes," she said honestly. "And sometimes it wasn't."

Sarah chewed her lip. "Are we going to stay here?"

Vivianne took her hand again. "Just for a little while. Mummy has something she has to do."

Sarah frowned. "Will there be castles?"

Vivianne smiled faintly, though her heart ached. "Not castles. But there might be answers."

"Will there be a garden?"

Vivianne looked ahead-toward the old path, the one she had walked once before with tears in her eyes and a promise in her heart.

"Maybe," she whispered. "Maybe this time, there will be."

And hand in hand, they kept walking-back into the past she thought she'd buried, and toward the truth she could no longer run from.

An hour later, Vivianne pulled into the driveway of the mansion she now called home. It stood tall, elegant and quiet, surrounded by rows of trimmed hedges and memories she hadn't created here. This place wasn't tied to her past-it was born from her strength, her grit, her long nights of sacrifice. It was hers.

She stepped out, closed the car door softly, and took a breath of the Italian air-heavier now with ghosts.

As she reached the front porch, the door flew open.

"Hey... surprise!!!" Rose screamed, grinning from ear to ear.

Vivianne turned, a slow smile pulling at her lips. "Hii..." she murmured, stepping into her best friend's arms, her exhale sounding more like relief than greeting.

Rose squeezed her tightly, then pulled back. "Where's Sarah?"

Vivianne nodded toward the car. "Sleeping. Knocked out cold."

"Aww, my little marshmallow," Rose said, hugging her again but with more gentleness this time. "She's grown so much."

Vivianne nodded, her hand brushing away a strand of hair. "She asks questions now. About him. About here."

Rose's smile faltered. "And you... how are you doing?"

Vivianne shrugged lightly. "Rose... I feel better."

"You better do," Rose muttered, jaw clenched. "Dominic shouldn't ever catch that look on your face again. Ever."

Vivianne's smile twisted into something bitter. "No, you should've seen me in his office. I stood there, Rose. Right in front of him. He didn't even blink. Didn't remember a thing. Not the kisses. Not the nights. Not the promises."

Her voice cracked, just slightly, before she hissed out a breath and turned toward the car. "It's like none of it ever happened to him."

Rose followed, her silence loud with anger.

Vivianne carefully opened the back door, lifting a sleeping Sarah into her arms. The little girl's curls were damp with heat, her candy wrapper clutched in one hand.

After settling her in the upstairs bedroom and kissing her forehead, Vivianne stood by the window for a long while, watching the garden below.

"Do you think he really forgot?" she asked softly, not turning around.

Rose leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "I think he chose to. Men like Dominic... they remember what suits them. They forget what doesn't."

Vivianne sighed, fingers brushing the edge of the curtain like she was testing reality-like maybe the world outside would look different if she touched it gently enough.

"He looked me in the eye, Rose," she murmured. "And all I saw was a stranger."

She didn't turn to look at her best friend. She didn't need to. The silence between them had weight, history. Rose had been there the night she broke, the night she left Italy with nothing but a swollen belly and a quiet ache in her chest.

Rose's voice came sharp, steady. "Then that's what he is now. A stranger. Nothing more."

Vivianne let the words hang for a moment. She wanted to believe them. God, she wanted to.

"Promise?"

Vivianne moved closer. "I promise."

"I'm not here for fairy tales, Rose," she said quietly. "I'm here for revenge. Only that."

A beat passed. And then Rose grinned, that familiar wicked spark in her eyes. "Good. Because tonight, you're going to a Met Charity Gala."

Vivianne turned to her, deadpan. "No way."

"Yes way."

"I just got back-"

"And now you're showing up. Making them wonder. Whisper. Wonder who the hell this woman is."

Vivianne exhaled. "And if I don't want to be seen?"

"You didn't come back here to hide, Viv," Rose said simply, walking toward the sleek black wardrobe at the corner of the room. "You came to be remembered."

Vivianne stayed quiet. She hated how much sense that made.

Rose swung open the wardrobe doors with flair. "Already had something tailored for you. Simple. Deadly. Elegant. Like you."

Vivianne allowed the corner of her mouth to lift. Just a little. "You're still dramatic."

"And you're still too afraid to admit you like it."

Vivianne sat on the edge of the bed. Her fingers played with the hem of her sleeve, the silence wrapping around her like a shawl.

"You know what I really don't like?" Rose said suddenly. "This... ghost of a woman who's been walking around pretending she's you."

Vivianne looked up.

"You used to be fire, Viv. You used to laugh so hard you'd scare people. And now..." Rose knelt down, her voice softer. "Now you barely touch your wine."

Vivianne swallowed. She didn't want to cry. Not here. Not over him. Not after everything.

Rose stood again, hands on hips. "You also need to start dating again. I mean it."

Vivianne groaned. "Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously! When was the last time you had sex?"

Vivianne stilled.

That question. She should've laughed it off, made a joke. But instead she just sat there, her silence saying too much.

Her gaze drifted to the floor.

When was the last time? When did I last want someone? Not for comfort. Not for distraction. But truly want?

She couldn't even remember.

"Jesus," Rose muttered. "It's been that long?"

Vivianne didn't answer.

Sex stopped being a craving the moment it became a memory. One tangled in guilt, shadows, and soft promises that meant nothing in the end.

"I forgot how," she said quietly. "How to let anyone close."

Rose didn't rush her this time. She just stood there, her voice gentler. "Then maybe don't start with letting someone close. Start with letting them look."

Vivianne looked up.

"Tonight," Rose said, voice unwavering. "We make them look."