Page 6 of So Close to You
There it is again: the impeccable organization of their lives, the schedules, the commitments, the perfectly coordinated routines. Seraphina nods and follows him up the stairs, feelingeach step burn more intensely beneath her feet. When Elliot leans in to kiss her cheek before stepping into the dressing room, she suppresses an instinctive reaction. For the first time in a long while, her husband’s touch feels strange, almost foreign. And that feeling tears her apart a little more.
*
Morning comes too soon. Seraphina opens her eyes before the alarm goes off. For a few seconds, she lies still beneath the sheets, listening to Elliot’s slow breathing beside her. Then she remembers everything: the balcony, Nerissa, her gasps as she came. Her stomach tightens with a devastating mix of anxiety and desire that is almost unbearable. She carefully sits up, trying not to wake him, and heads to the bathroom.
The reflection staring back at her from the mirror forces her to stop. She looks tired, more than usual. There’s something different in her eyes, something dangerously alive, and she hates herself a little for feeling this way.
Half an hour later, she heads downstairs to the kitchen, already dressed for work. The house begins to wake around her: the distant sound of Elliot’s shower, the coffee maker starting up, and the constant murmur of rain against the windows. Then she hears hurried footsteps in the hallway.
“Mom!” Ivy exclaims, appearing first, disheveled and still half-asleep in her wrinkled pink pajamas. The six-year-old throws herself into her arms as if they haven’t seen each other in days, even though only a few hours have passed.
Seraphina smiles automatically and bends down to pick her up, inhaling the familiar scent of children’s shampoo.
“Good morning, my little one. Did you sleep well?”
“Oliver says it’s going to rain all day and we won’t be able to go out in the garden,” Ivy complains with a pout, burying her face in her mother’s neck.
“Because it is going to rain all day,” Oliver chimes in, entering behind her with that solemn expression so typical of a nine-year-old who considers himself exceptionally sensible. “Alexa said so this morning.”
Seraphina can’t help but laugh as she sets Ivy back on the floor.
“Then we’ll have to survive the British weather like true champions. How about we make pancakes and build a fort in the living room when Dad gets home from work?”
Oliver barely smiles, though he struggles to keep a straight face, and takes a seat at the kitchen island.
Moments like these always break something inside Seraphina. She loves her children with a fierce and absolute intensity; they are the only thing she has ever been completely certain of. And that is precisely why the guilt becomes almost unbearable.
While she makes breakfast, Ivy recounts a story from the school play in exhaustive detail, and Oliver complains that a classmate cheated on a science test. Everything seems so normal, so ordinary, that Seraphina suddenly feels like crying.
What kind of person would risk all of this?
The image of Nerissa invades her mind again without permission.
“Just tell me once that you’re happy.”
She grips her coffee cup tightly.
“Mom,” Oliver calls.
She looks up. The boy is watching her with a slight frown.
“Are you listening to me?”
Seraphina forces a smile and affectionately ruffles his hair.
“Of course I am, sweetie. Sorry, I was thinking about today’s meeting. Tell me again about those traps.”
But in reality, she wasn’t listening, and she doesn’t really listen for the next hour either, as she gets dressed, gets in the car, and heads to work.
The Hale Medical Group’s main clinic occupies one of the most modern buildings in Manchester’s financial district. Glass, steel, and minimalist lines carefully designed to convey prestige and excellence. Seraphina arrives just before 8:30. The lobby is already bustling with activity, and everyone greets her with deference.
“Good morning, Dr. Chapman.”
“Lady Chapman.”
“It’s good to see you back.”
She responds with automatic smiles as she crosses the building toward the private elevators. Her office, occupying an entire corner of the top floor, is where she coordinates the group’s various private clinics as financial director. Normally, the space gives her a sense of control, but at that moment she can only feel trapped.
