Fiona
I stood frozen behind the counter, my hand still holding the damp cloth I'd been using to wipe it down, watching Archie cross the small café toward me with an expression I couldn't quite read, uncertainty and something softer tangled together across his features.
"Archie," I managed, my voice barely above a whisper. "What are you doing here?"
"I needed to see you," he said simply, stopping a respectful distance from the counter, his hands shoved into his pockets in a way that looked almost nervous. "Margaret told me everything. The real story, I mean. Your mother's illness, why you agreed to take her place, everything you never got the chance to properly explain before I threw you out of my own study."
My chest tightened painfully at the memory, tears already gathering despite my
