Chapter 3 — Old Friends, New Troubles

Clara

Clara stood on the front porch of the Monroe family home, her fingers brushing the strap of her bag as she hesitated to knock. The house stood exactly as she remembered it, down to the overgrown garden and creaky swing set in the yard. Yet it felt different—heavier, perhaps, weighed down by the years of grief and change she wasn’t here to witness. Her heart fluttered with uncertainty. What was she even doing here? She could have unpacked, settled in, given herself time. But something about the drive past Lilac Ridge Elementary and the warmth of the town square had pulled her here, to this doorstep, to him.

She glanced at the faint light glowing through the curtains, her mother’s voice whispering in her memory: *Face what scares you, Clara.* Taking a breath, she raised her fist and knocked softly. The sound felt louder than it should have in the quiet of the Maplewood evening.

The door opened, and there he was. Ethan Monroe. His dark brown hair was shorter than she remembered, peppered now with streaks of gray, and his hazel eyes carried a tired kindness that made her chest tighten. For a moment, he just stared at her, surprise flickering across his face before settling into something warmer—something she couldn’t quite name.

“Clara,” he said finally, stepping back. “Come in.”

The warmth of the Monroe family home hit Clara the moment she stepped through the door. The smell of something faintly sweet—maple syrup, perhaps—lingered in the air, blending with the woodsy scent of the furniture and the subtle undertone of pine cleaner. It felt lived-in, real. Yet, as her eyes took in the modest interior—cluttered bookshelves, Lily’s colorful crayon scrawls taped proudly to the fridge—she could sense the weight this house carried, the quiet echoes of love and loss pressed into its walls.

Ethan stood awkwardly by the door, running a hand through his hair. “You can put your bag here,” he offered, gesturing toward the narrow entryway table already laden with keys, unopened mail, and a small collection of what looked like Lily’s latest painted rocks.

“Thanks,” Clara murmured, slipping the strap off her shoulder and setting the bag down. She glanced at the rocks, each one uniquely adorned with bright patterns and sparkles. Her chest felt tight; her carefully rehearsed lines about how she’d only stay for a few minutes, just wanted to say hello, evaporated as soon as she stepped inside. The air between them was thick with unspoken words, a mixture of familiarity and strangeness that kept her rooted to the spot.

“You want something to drink?” Ethan’s voice broke the silence. His hazel eyes, kind but weary, searched hers for a moment before darting away. “Tea? Coffee? Or—uh—hot chocolate? Lily’s favorite.”

“Hot chocolate sounds great,” Clara said, the edges of her lips curving into a tentative smile. A part of her clung to the mundane offer, comforted by the simplicity of it. This was Ethan, after all—the same boy who used to sneak her chocolate bars during boring school presentations and once burned his hand trying to teach her how to make s’mores. Some things never changed.

Ethan nodded and moved toward the kitchen, his steps quiet on the hardwood floor. Clara followed, her hands twisting together as she took in more of the house. It was cozy, filled with little touches of both chaos and care. Toys were scattered near the couch, and a half-finished puzzle rested on the coffee table. A drawing of what looked like a lopsided cat was pinned to the fridge, signed in scrawling letters: *Lily, age 6.* Clara smiled despite herself.

Ethan busied himself at the counter, retrieving a box of cocoa mix and two mismatched mugs. His movements were methodical, deliberate, as if focusing on the task would ease the tension in the room. Clara leaned against the doorway, watching him with a mixture of curiosity and unease.

“How’s she doing?” Clara asked softly, her voice breaking the quiet. She didn’t need to clarify who she meant.

Ethan glanced over his shoulder, his expression briefly softening. “Lily’s... she’s amazing,” he said, his tone warming. “Smart, funny, a little too stubborn for her own good.” A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it faded quickly. “She’s doing okay, all things considered. But, you know, there are days...”

Clara nodded, her heart aching at the quiet vulnerability in his voice. She wanted to reach out, to tell him she understood, but the weight of their shared history held her back. Instead, she said, “I’d love to meet her.”

As if on cue, a small, hesitant voice called from somewhere down the hall. “Daddy? Who’s here?”

Ethan froze for a second, then turned toward the hallway. “Come say hi, Lil. It’s someone I think you might like.” There was a softness in his tone, a subtle reassurance that made Clara’s chest tighten.

Clara straightened, her pulse quickening as the sound of small footsteps approached. A moment later, Lily appeared in the doorway, clutching a stuffed rabbit with one ear hanging by a thread. She looked up at Clara with wide hazel eyes—Ethan’s eyes—and a hint of suspicion.

“Hi, Lily,” Clara said, crouching to meet her at eye level. She kept her voice light, playful. “I’m Clara. Your dad and I used to be really good friends.”

Lily tilted her head, studying Clara with the solemn intensity only a child could muster. “Did you go to school with him?”

“I did,” Clara replied, nodding. “And let me tell you, he was a terrible singer. Did you know that? He used to make up silly songs all the time, but they were so bad.”

“Hey!” Ethan protested from the kitchen, but there was a note of humor in his voice.

Lily’s lips twitched, the beginning of a smile forming. “Daddy sings to me sometimes. He’s not *that* bad.”

“Well, maybe he got better,” Clara said with a wink. “You’ll have to be the judge of that.”

Lily giggled, the sound light and infectious. For a moment, the tension in the room eased, replaced by a sense of connection that felt surprisingly natural. Clara felt a warmth spread through her chest. She hadn’t expected Lily to warm up to her so quickly, but the little girl’s openness and curiosity were disarming, a reminder of how much she missed the simplicity of moments like these.

Ethan appeared with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, sliding one toward Clara and taking a seat at the small kitchen table. Lily climbed onto a chair beside him, her stuffed rabbit sitting protectively in her lap. Clara joined them, cradling her mug between her hands.

“So, Clara,” Ethan said after a moment, his tone carefully neutral, “what brings you back to Maplewood?”

Clara hesitated, the question she’d been dreading finally out in the open. She took a sip of her hot chocolate, stalling for time. The warmth of the drink soothed her nerves, but only slightly.

“I needed a change,” she said finally, choosing her words carefully. “City life... it wasn’t what I thought it would be. I guess I just—” She paused, her gaze dropping to her mug. “I needed to come home.”

Ethan studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Well, it’s good to see you,” he said quietly, and Clara could tell he meant it.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, the kind that spoke of shared history and unspoken understanding. Lily, oblivious to the undercurrents between the adults, chatted happily about her day at school, her excitement bubbling over as she described a butterfly she’d seen on the playground. Clara listened with genuine interest, her heart warming at the little girl’s enthusiasm.

Eventually, the evening began to wind down. Lily’s yawns grew more frequent, and Ethan glanced at the clock. “Alright, kiddo,” he said, ruffling her hair. “Bedtime.”

Lily pouted but didn’t argue, sliding off her chair and clutching her rabbit tightly. She turned to Clara, her eyes shy but hopeful. “Will you be here tomorrow?” she asked.

Clara’s throat tightened. She glanced at Ethan, who gave her a small, encouraging nod. “Maybe,” she said with a smile. “If your dad doesn’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” Ethan said, his voice calm but warm. “Lily seems to like you.”

Clara’s heart swelled at his words, a feeling of belonging she hadn’t felt in years washing over her. As Lily waved goodnight and disappeared down the hall, Clara turned to Ethan, her smile fading slightly.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “For letting me stop by. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding,” Ethan said, shaking his head. “It’s... it’s nice to have you here. Really.” He hesitated, his gaze meeting hers. “I know things have been... complicated, but you’re always welcome.”

Clara nodded, her chest tight with emotion she couldn’t quite name. “Goodnight, Ethan,” she said, rising to her feet.

“Goodnight, Clara,” he replied, his voice steady. As she stepped outside into the cool night air, she paused, taking in the faint scent of autumn leaves and the distant chirp of crickets. The town was quiet, but her thoughts were anything but.

This was just the beginning, she realized. Of what, she wasn’t quite sure. But for the first time in a long time, she felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be.