Seraphine finished the last sip of her coffee, placed the cup neatly on the table, and rose to her feet—unhurried, graceful, calm on the surface with something far deeper swirling beneath.
Outside, the mall thrummed with weekend life.
Families clustered near food stalls, teenagers loitered with iced drinks in hand, couples drifted from shop to shop in easy circles.
The day felt safe, ordinary.
And there, standing beside a row of vending machines glowing with neon labels, was Marco—arm around his wife, daughter skipping at his side.
Seraphine’s lips curved into a bright, cheerful smile.
“Marco!”
Her voice carried across the tiled walkway, ringing clear and innocent as a school bell.
Three heads turned at once.
Marco froze—just long enough for his face to crack—before he plastered on a practiced grin.
“Oh—Sera.”
His voice pitched just a touch too high.
Seraphine walked toward them with light, eager steps, smile unwavering.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
She stopped before the woman at his side—tall, gentle-eyed, and oblivious to deeper stories.
“And this must be your wife?” Seraphine asked, polite and curious.
The woman nodded, offering a warm smile.
Marco’s hand settled on her back—protective, steady, almost too firm.
“Yes,” Marco said. “Honey—this is Sera. My cousin. She stayed with us for a while.”
Seraphine clasped her hands together, posture crisp and proper.
“Hello.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” the wife replied. “Marco never mentioned—”
“Oh, he probably forgot,” Seraphine said lightly, cutting in with a small laugh.
“Those days were so long ago.”
Her tone was airy, playful.
But Marco swallowed hard anyway.
Seraphine crouched to meet the little girl eye to eye.
“And you must be my niece.”
The child nodded shyly.
“Hello. Nice to meet you.”
“How old are you?” Seraphine asked gently.
“Ten years old.”
Seraphine’s smile softened, her breath catching in her chest.
Ten.
Her age.
Twelve years collapsed into a single second.
She lifted her gaze to Marco’s, and the meaning passed without a word spoken.
Marco’s face twitched, a small crack in his mask, before he forced a laugh.
“So big already, right? Growing so fast.”
His voice sounded too thick, like it scraped against something raw on the way out.
He cleared his throat sharply.
“Sorry—we have places to be. Lots of errands today.”
“Of course,” Seraphine replied, bright and effortless.
“You should enjoy your day.”
“We’ll keep in touch,” Marco said.
A statement, not a suggestion.
A plea disguised as promise.
Seraphine lifted her hand and waved as the small family turned and walked away.
The little girl waved back, cheerful and clueless.
Marco kept his eyes forward.
He didn’t look back.
He didn’t need to.
He could feel her gaze following him long after the crowd swallowed them whole.
Seraphine’s hand stayed lifted in farewell until they vanished from sight.
Her smile lingered even longer—slow, serene, unwavering.
Then, at last, it dissolved—quietly, completely.
