It was a quiet voice, and it started the way all quiet voices do: at night.
If I accept him, Ella thought, and he disappears after we have children, just like my father did, what will I do? I will suffer too. Everything I've worked for would be pulled out from under me.
She rolled over and punched her pillow.
It happens. It happens every day. Women trust. Men leave. Why would I be any different?
For several minutes there was silence in her head. Then, from somewhere deeper, a second voice answered. It sounded a little like her mother, a little like Mrs. Clarke, and a lot like herself.
Ella. Look at yourself.
She opened her eyes.
Look at who you are. Look at what you've built. You are not the girl who stood up in class because of unpaid fees. You are not a woman with no money, no skills, no name. You have a companies. You have a house in your mother's name. You have savings, investments, a sister who runs a company of her own.
She sat up slowly in bed.
You lack nothing. And this man… Nathan. He asked you out. He didn't pressure you. When you said no, he walked away with dignity. Is that how a man behaves who plans to disappear?
People change, the first voice said stubbornly. They do. That is exactly why I am afraid.
Yes. People change. He might. Anyone might. But listen to me, Ella. The second voice grew gentler. Even if he leaves one day, your children will not suffer the way you did. Because you already have everything you need to take care of them. They will not stand up in class. They will not sit in the dark. They will not sleep on a thin mattress while their mother counts coins. You have already made certain of that.
Ella pressed her hand to her mouth.
You are not your mother back then, with nothing. You are Ella Williams. You are safe. So stop holding on to your past. Stop letting a man who left years ago decide how you live today. Nathan is not your father. And you are not afraid of Nathan. You are afraid of being ten years old again.
For a long time, she didn't move.
When the sun rose, she had made a small decision. It was not a promise. It was not even a plan. It was only a crack in a wall.
She picked up her phone and typed a message.
Nathan. It's Ella. About dinner. I said no, and I meant it at the time. But if the offer is still open, I would like to have coffee. Just coffee.
She read it three times. Her thumb hovered over the send button. She almost deleted it.
Then she sent it, put the phone face-down on the bed, and went to take her bath.
Within one minutes, the phone buzzed.
I would like that very much.
She stared at the screen. A slow, unwilling smile crept across her face.
Just coffee, she repeated. Just coffee.