Chapter 13 - Encounters Across the River
Covington was small enough to feel like a neighborhood and large enough to maintain anonymity, but Cincinnati was just a short drive across the Roebling Suspension Bridge. Crossing the river was something I did daily for work, keeping my head down and sticking to my routine of drafting schematics, supervising installations, and avoiding the upscale neighborhoods where Sophie and I used to dine.
Yet, fate has a stubborn habit of ignoring geographic boundaries.
It happened on a rainy Tuesday morning at a specialty coffee shop tucked into a brick alleyway near Findlay Market. I was waiting for an Americano and a breakfast sandwich, reading architectural blueprints on my tablet, when the door chimed, letting in a gust of damp wind and the smell of wet pavement.
“Ethan?”
The voice was soft, hesitant, and entirely unmistakable.
I didn't look up immediately. I took a slow breath, locked my tablet screen, and turned my head.
Sophie stood near the counter, wearing a beige trench coat that looked slightly rumpled. She held a leather briefcase in one hand and an umbrella in the other. Her hair was tied back in a messy knot, and the bright, effortless warmth that used to define her presence seemed muted, replaced by dark circles under her eyes and a tense line around her mouth.
“Hi, Sophie,” I said, keeping my voice neutral, neither warm nor hostile.
She stepped closer, stopping two feet away as if afraid I might physically back away from her. Her eyes scanned my face, taking in my casual jacket, the lack of a wedding band, the calm posture.
“You look... different,” she murmured, her gaze dropping to my left hand before rising back to my eyes.
“Different good or different bad?” I asked, keeping a faint, ironic edge out of my voice. Just pure curiosity.
“Just... settled,” she said, her voice catching slightly. She swallowed hard, looking around the coffee shop as if checking to see if anyone was watching us. “Are you living in the city now?”
“Covington.”
“Oh.” She nodded slowly. “That's nice. Quiet over there.”
“Very quiet.”
The barista called out my name. I stepped forward, picked up my coffee and bag from the counter, and turned back toward the door. I didn't want to be rude, but I also didn't want to reopen a wound that had finally scarred over.
“Ethan—wait,” Sophie said, stepping into my path. Her hand hovered near my sleeve, then pulled back before touching me. “Can we talk? Just for five minutes? Not about... you know. Just... how are you?”
I looked at my ex-wife, really looked at her. I saw the weight of the viral video, the fallout at her corporate job where HR had reportedly reprimanded her for bringing public disrepute to the firm through her social media presence, the reality of living in a world where her carefully curated reputation had cracked wide open.
“I'm fine, Sophie,” I said softly. “Really. I'm doing my work, I'm sleeping through the night, and I don't think about the wedding anymore.”
Her lower lip trembled. “I lost my job last week, Ethan.”
The news hung in the air between us, heavy and discordant against the cheerful indie music playing over the coffee shop speakers.
“I'm sorry to hear that,” I said, and I meant it. I wouldn't wish unemployment or public humiliation on anyone, least of all someone I had shared five years of my life with. “Truly. But I can't fix that for you, Sophie. And I can't give you absolution.”
She stared at me, tears welling in her eyes, threatening to spill over her lashes. “I just wanted you to say you forgive me.”
May you like
“Maybe one day,” I said quietly, stepping around her toward the exit. “Just not today.”
***
