The ride home was uncomfortably quiet. One of the Johnsons' drivers had been assigned to take us back, and the only sounds filling the car were the soft hum of the engine and the occasional turn signal. My mother sat beside me, her posture tense, hands clasped tightly in her lap as she stared blankly out the window.
I glanced at her a few times, hoping she'd say something, anything. But she didn't. Not even when the driver politely announced that we'd arrived.
"Thank you," I murmured to him as I stepped out. I walked around to help my mother out of the car, and she gave a stiff nod before heading toward the house without a word.
Inside, the familiar scent of old pine wood and lemon polish welcomed us. The hallway lamp cast a warm, golden hue across the furniture. I slipped off my shoes and moved quietly into the living room where my father was resting on the couch, reading his old leather-bound Bible. His glasses sat low on his nose, his brows raised as he looked up and smiled.
"Sweetheart," he said, closing the book gently. "You're home. How did it go?"
I sank into the couch beside him and sighed. "It was...interesting."
Dad chuckled lightly, then coughed, a dry, persistent sound that made my chest tighten. "Interesting how?"
I folded one leg under me and leaned back. "You know how people say a lot without actually saying anything?"
He nodded, already sensing there was more beneath my words.
"Tonight felt like that. Everyone was polite, too polite. Frey's mom was warm and welcoming. Tyler Johnson… well, he was intense."
"Intense?"
"Yeah. He's got this commanding presence. The kind of man who expects the world to bend to him. But it wasn't just that. It was the way he looked at me…Like I reminded him of something. Something he hadn't seen in a long time."
Dad's gaze narrowed, lips pursing slightly. "Reminded him of what, do you think?"
"I honestly don't know. But then…" I hesitated. "There was this moment when he saw Mom. He froze. She did too. I swear, it was like something passed between them that no one else could see. She dropped her napkin, and for a few seconds… she was completely shaken."
My father removed his glasses and placed them on the side table. "Did she say anything afterwards?"
"She said, 'you haven't changed much either.' Just that. But the way she said it… It didn't sound like a casual comment. It sounded like history."
He stared ahead, silent for a moment, then asked, "Has your mother ever mentioned knowing Tyler Johnson before?"
"Never," I replied. "And you know she's not the kind to forget a face."
His jaw clenched. "Your mother had a life before this one, Catherine. We both did. But I never imagined it crossed paths with the Johnsons."
I exhaled. "Something is going on, Dad. Something she's hiding."
He looked at me, a quiet storm behind his eyes. "Do you want to find out what it is?"
"I think I need to. This marriage… I don't want to bear more burden than necessary."
He took my hand in his, his voice low. "Be careful, Cat. Whatever it could be, I'm sure it's not as deep as you're taking it."
Just then, the sound of a glass clinking echoed from the kitchen. I turned to see my mother standing in the doorway.
Our eyes met, and hers flickered, just for a second. Then she turned away and headed straight to her bedroom.
And in that moment, I knew, whatever history existed between her and Tyler Johnson wasn't just a closed chapter, it was a wound, and someone had just ripped off the bandage.
I got up slowly and followed her into her bedroom.
I walked in quietly and stood at the threshold of her bedroom, I clutched the doorframe as if it would steady me. The soft rustle of her nightgown met my ears as she moved about the room. She had already removed her jewellery and was brushing her hair at the vanity like it was just another night.
But it wasn't. And we both knew it.
"I need to ask you something," I said, my voice firmer than I expected. I stepped into the room, shutting the door behind me.
Her brush paused mid-stroke, but she didn't look at me. "Can it wait until morning, Catherine? It's been a long day."
"No," I replied, crossing my arms tightly. "It really can't."
She sighed and set the brush down, her reflection in the mirror unreadable. "Then ask."
"That moment at the Johnsons'," I began, heart pounding. "When Frey's father, Tyler, walked in. I saw your face. You froze. You couldn't even look away. And he…" I swallowed. "He looked like he'd seen a ghost."
She finally turned to face me, her eyes carefully neutral. "You're reading too much into it. I was just surprised. That's all."
"That's all?" I stepped closer, letting my voice rise just slightly. "Because it didn't look like just surprise. It looked like recognition. And not the good kind. What's going on?"
Her lips pursed as she stood and walked past me, heading for the window. She pulled the curtain aside, staring out into the moonlit garden. "Tyler Johnson and I… we knew each other. A long time ago."
I waited, but she didn't continue.
"Mother," I said, my voice softer now. "I need the truth."
She didn't turn around. "Some truths aren't as necessary as you think they are, Catherine. The past is… complicated. And sometimes, they're best left buried."
"Don't do that," I whispered, anger creeping in. "Don't treat me like a child who can't handle a few buried memories. I'm your daughter. If there's something I need to know, something that connects our family to the Johnsons, I deserve to hear it."
She finally turned back, and there was something distant in her gaze, something almost… haunted. "It was before I met your father," she said slowly. "I was young. Foolish, maybe. Tyler and I crossed paths in Pensacola. It wasn't serious, not to him, at least. To me, it felt like a dream." Her voice wavered. "But dreams end, and he left. Without warning. Without a goodbye."
My breath hitched. "Are you saying… You were in love with him?"
"I don't know what it was," she replied bitterly. "Infatuation? Desperation? I was a girl trying to escape a stifling home, and he… he was magnetic. Wealthy. Charming. Dangerous in all the ways a girl shouldn't want."
"And then you met Dad."
"Yes." Her eyes softened. "And your father was the opposite of everything Tyler was. He was safe. Steady. He gave me a life I could count on. A life I needed."
I sat on the edge of her bed, trying to process everything. My head felt too full, but my heart… it just ached.
"Did you ever tell Dad?"
"No," she said, shaking her head. "It never seemed necessary. Tyler and I were a closed chapter… until tonight."
A thick silence fell between us. I watched her closely. "Does he know? About you two?"
"I doubt it. Men like him don't remember the girls they leave behind. Not unless they have a reason to." Her gaze turned toward the floor. "But he remembered me tonight, didn't he?"
I nodded slowly. "He did."
She inhaled sharply, as though bracing herself for a wave only she could see. "Then maybe the past isn't as buried as I hoped."
My voice trembled as I asked the next question. "Is there… is there anything else I should know?"
She glanced up, meeting my eyes with a guarded expression. "There are things, Catherine, that don't need to be disturbed. Skeletons that belong to graves, not conversations. For now, let this be enough."
I didn't know if I could, but something in her tone told me to stop. Not because she didn't want to tell me, but because she wasn't ready.
Still, the knot in my chest had only tightened.
"Fine," I whispered, rising to my feet. "But someday, I'll want the full story."
Her eyes glistened, but she nodded. "And someday, you might be ready to hear it."
I left her room with more questions than answers, my steps quiet against the hallway floor. The house was dark, but my mind was alight with confusion and speculation.
What was once a simple contract marriage… no longer felt simple at all.