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𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒏 

"Hi, babies!" I gush at our dogs once we pick them up from the overnight animal spa and bring them home.

Their tails are steady wagging, Duke even smiles. I'm so happy to see them, I could cry.

My constant stomach ache is suddenly relieved the second Chris parallel parks on Main Street.

"Home sweet home." He remarks with a witty grin.

I just smile in the passenger seat and wait for my fiancé to come around and open my door like I know he will.

Once he does, I thank him with a quick peck on the lips and then help our dogs out of the Tesla.

Chris grabs our luggage and leads the way up the steps to the front door.

I take it in. I missed this townhouse so much.

After what transpired before our vacation, Chris steps inside first to check everything out. Our house has been broken into before, after all.

"Welcome back, Vaughn's." Our usually mute neighbor, Lora, says as she jogs on by.

Ah, I even missed her.

"Alright." Chris exits the darkness of our home to find me on the stoop, bored, and I enter after him.

Not a single thing is out of place, it's exactly how we left if.

Chris  puts a gun into the back of his jeans and covers it with his black t-shirt.

I don't question where he got a gun, or the fact that he got it out to inspect our home. After everything we've been through, I'd question him if he didn't have one. I just hope I never see the day he has to actually use it on someone.

Flipping through our mail, I read the first letter in the stack. It's from Yara and Nick Adams, our friends out in the countryside of New York. I've been meaning to call them, see how they're doing and the kids. Perhaps we'll go visit soon.

~~~ Later that night ~~~

Chris pats my back as I choke. I hand him his blunt back after my coughing fit and chug some mint water.

The dogs are asleep in their ward of the house down the hall, and we're all unpacked with our clothes almost finished a cycle in the dryer. We've settled back in nicely. After a small grilled chicken dinner, we're capping the night with weed and classic horror movies playing on the tv.

Chris puts out the blunt and exhales. "What am I gonna do about work?" He starts to fret.

I don't know the technicalities of his career or the contract he has with the client, Russell Brown. All I know is, he still isn't sure if Torro will allow him back, or not. While I'm optimistic they'll see it wasn't Chris's fault, that Beck Jordan practically forced that ass whooping on himself, Chris is not as hopeful.

"Heard they let Frank take over the job. He's not as good, but, this is big for him. Fuck. This is so fucking annoying."

"What is?" I ask, trying to listen and understand.

"Being out of work." Chris says, slamming his back against the wall in frustration.

I inch closer between his legs, sitting spider-style, to palm his face.

"You're talented, experienced, and you know people. You'll find another job, baby, and a better company to work for, at that."

He's not hearing me, though, feeling sorry for himself with both arms crossed over his naked chest.

"I don't want to talk about it no more." Chris says, tapping my side so I can get off of his body.

I sigh with a heavy heart. I wish there was something I could do to help.
Chris is in this funk that I feel he won't be able to shake until he's working again, and this time at a place with people he can actually like and not just tolerate. His happiness means everything to me and it pains me that he feels this way.
Most of all, I think he believes this is his fault - his temper betrayed him, but I don't blame Chris whatsoever.

I have this insatiable need to return the deed and protect Chris. He put his life on the line for me when it was time and I don't want to keep being the damsel in distress.

"—All done your paperwork?" The nurse asks me at the front desk.

"Yes, I am." I say with a smile and hand over the clipboard. Just some updates I needed to make in my birth control, symptoms, etc.

The woman closes the glass after telling me to have a seat, they'll call me when they're ready since I'm so early for my appointment. I was just hoping to get this out of the way if I came ahead of time since I was already out running errands.

The second I take a seat I'm hit with a voice that has taunted me in my nightmares since I had the misfortune of meeting her.

"Morgan?" She calls out my name.

I want to pretend that I don't know who she is but I can't, she's gotten out of her seat to come over to mine and bother me.

"You have some nerve." I scoff.

"Look, do you have a second to talk?" Her voice makes me shudder.

I finally look up to meet Sabrina's (Marissa's) eyes. "Why, so you can execute some evil plan?"

"You already paid me, and we're at the clinic, does it look like I'm about to plot to take you out?" Her neck rolls with the attitude she projects.

What the hell, I think in my head. My arms flail as I release a deep breath.

~

So we sit at a bench on the opposite side of the parking lot under a lone tree. Ruffling leaves dance in the wind and fall all around us. It's my favorite season - autumn.

In the fall, the leaves are shades of burnt orange, brown, and red. Beautiful. It's when you can finally wear Ugg boots on colder days and not get the side-eye. Pink may be out of style here but rich neutrals are in, and I have some knit sets that never get old. Cargos, cardigans, and scarves, for some. Football, Halloween, volleyball, and all-you-can-eat Turkey, for others.

I'm reminded that Sabrina is next to me when she speaks again. "It must be nice." She murmurs.

I remove my eyes off of the two squirrels scurrying up a tree to shift my attention on to Sabrina.

"What's that?" I wonder how she means.

She remains with relaxed posture on the bench, staring blankly ahead. There must be a thought behind those glossy grey eyes of hers but she is taking her time to spit it out.

"Your ring. How'd he do it? Did he get on one knee, tell you how much you mean to him, and promise to grow with you? Forever?"

I peer at my finger and find myself, for some reason, feeling almost... guilty. I know I shouldn't because she's a monster. In fact, I should take this time to brag in her face, but I already have the man, the house, the ring, the promise of all eternity, rubbing it in anymore would make me the asshole here.

"I've always said that you were so lucky." She laughs. It's not particularly a happy or even one that's necessarily sarcastic. No. She sounds sad.

"God..." she tosses her head back. "you have it all. I didn't want any of this to happen, really. I loved him."

"Loved?" I repeat. My eyelids flicker as I malfunction  at this confession.

I even laugh myself, and yes, it's sarcasm. Disbelief, even, that I'm letting her say this.

Sabrina looks me in the eyes. The fire that's usually behind her grey orbs has been extinguished, seemingly weakening the longer she sits in my presence and bears this conversation with me.

"Yes!" She cries out. "Love. The same as what you feel for him."

I put my hand up, unable to take another second of this. That's the last time she compares herself to me.

"No," I shake my head and stand angrily. "I love him, and he loves me. You were infatuated by him. It was just lust. This thing you think you felt for him, was just a thing - a simple feeling for a very brief moment. Okay?"

"I loved him. I wanted what was best for him. I convinced my father to give him a raise because I wanted Chris to be able to support the lifestyle he deserved. I feel like God brought him into my life because we were supposed to be together. I prayed for him. I prayed that a man exactly like Chris would come to me and set my soul on fire." The longer she talks the more her delusion is revealed. Her voice sounds desperate. She's pleading for me to hear her and finally, I do. Only, I wish I weren't. This is painful. And, for some reason, heartbreaking.

I drop my arms from across my chest and look down at Sabrina crying out in the open, her fists balled in her lap. Her body convulses with each sniffle. She's hurt, deeply. I hate the girl but I can't stand to see this.

Seeing the agony dawned on her face, I sit beside Sabrina and stare.

The tears that fall down her cheek remind me that she is only human.

"You really loved him, didn't you?" I question despite already knowing the response. I don't want to hear it but at the same time I do. I want to know that this isn't some scheme or act.

She nods her head like it's heavy and more tears fall. "He was different than them - the others who took advantage of me. At first I knew he didn't care about me, that I was just a rebound, but I thought if I hung on, he'd change his mind. He kept saying "no" but eventually, he didn't say anything and I took that as a yes..." her voice trails off.

I keep my focus on Sabrina as her eyes space out.

She goes on. "Do you know how it felt when every time I tried to get intimate with him, he was holding back, made me cover myself, or was thinking about you? He told me I didn't have a chance unless I was different. I had no idea who you were— who the witch was that hurt him so badly— but when I asked him his type and he described an 'impassioned, ethereal, selfless, Princess-like, blond bombshell with aquamarine colored eyes who enjoys the color pink, loves life, and has a pure happiness that radiates from within her to cast a vale of beauty over her rosy face with a smile that can change the world' well, I figured it out pretty fast once you arrived to Port Ember."

"He said all of that?"

Sabrina nods her head but looks pained to do so. "I remember every word because it kept me up at night. I became obsessed with becoming identical to that description. Then you came. And you were everything he said you were and more. You proved that I could never be what he wants; that we'll never be together."

I rotate to face Sabrina, at the same time she does the same. Her eyes roam my face like she's searching for a flaw she's overlooked before.

She breaks her eyes away and snickers quietly. "But then that would just leave him unhappy. I want him, but I want all of him. As much as I like to hang it over you that I got to sleep with your fiancé, he was never mine. I was foolishly bound to a man that was repulsed at the sight of me."

The corners of my mouth lift into a smile.

"That wasn't supposed to make you feel better." Sabrina sniffs.

"It is." I admit plainly. She may have appealed to my better nature and put me at ease some with this sob story, offering some clarity concerning their affair, but this is not that moment in the movies where the woman who got "cheated on" teams up with the mistress.

Sabrina's eyes roll back and she takes the time to use her forearm to wipe the wetness from her puffy face.

"Well," she stands up and regains what composure she usually possesses, though that's not saying much. "don't expect me to say congratulations."

"Don't expect an invite to the wedding." I make Sabrina crack a smile.

She laughs and looks at her feet. "Don't expect an apology."

"And you don't push it. Bye, Marissa." I stand with a sigh.

"I— Congratulations." She says, standing in the road.

I shake my head. I don't want her congrats, not for our engagement. It feels wrong, like, no way it's sincere.

"I mean it," she nods rapidly like she's trying to convince herself. "for being the better woman, I mean."

When I just blink at her, Sabrina turns and ambles away.

Let her walk, I tell myself in my head.

Ah, fuck. . .

"Hey!" I shout after her.

She swiftly spins on her heels to face me.

I twist my mouth in thought, second guessing myself for this. "You said you'd do anything for Chris, right? You just want him happy?"

"Yes," she affirms, chewing her lip. "anything."

"Can you get him his job back?" It takes a lot out of me to ask her but it feels good once I finally do. She's pulled strings before, her dad may be in jail, but she could still know a guy who knows a guy.

I can't tell if Sabrina's physical response is relief or disappointment but she inhales deeply and bobs her head up and down in agreement. "Consider it done." Her confident smile is assuring but I have my reserves. It is Sabrina, after all. We may have just Kumbaya'd, but she can't be trusted. I haven't forgotten, nor do I forgive her.

Before walking back towards the clinic for the appointment that I'm sure I've missed by now, I tell Cleo's sister, "Don't expect me to return the favor."

~~~

It's late. Chris isn't home, yet, and I don't have dinner cooked. I've asked him to pick up something along the way and hopefully it's something I'm craving. I don't know, he should be able to read my mind by now.

While waiting for Chris, I sit in the upstairs living room area, playing fetch with Duke and Stevie. They get to roughhousing and end up down the hall.

After a few minutes of letting them go, I lock my phone and call the dogs back to me.

Duke comes prancing in with some paper stuck to his paw.

"Oh. What's this, boy?" I talk aloud, signaling Duke over to me.

He sits at my feet and gives me his paw when I ask for it.

Huh. It's some blueprints of a house. A really nice house, actually - my favorite style, modern farmhouse.

My curiosity leads me to Chris's study. At first, just to make sure the dogs didn't make too much of a mess in there. Chris has OCD when it comes to his study. His designs and drawings are very special to him as it's his livelihood. Even I can't see some of his more important work documents. I remember asking to see one design a few months ago—this one house had him stressing majorly, I was so worried— and he would always keep it hidden from me, claim it was never finished or worth looking at. He's just a perfectionist, but aren't most virgos?

"Oh, you guys..." I whine at the sight of the mess. The dogs knocked over the majority of the contents on Chris's desk.

I groan and ache, bending down to pick up all the tools from pencils and pens to a compass, ruler, and protractor.

Something catches my eye before I bring myself to exit the home-office. It's the floor plans for that modern farmhouse. Immediately, I'm enamored by the detail. Now I see why he gets so stressed.
Chris is extremely good at his job, that's obvious. How much he's put into this, though, was never clear to me until now. I'm sure whenever this is built and brought to life, whoever has the fortune of calling this home, will be very lucky.

Sigh.

"Babe!" I hear Chris yelling from downstairs.

I gasp, suddenly frightened, and scamper out of his office, making sure to turn off the light and bring the dogs with me down the steps.

"Hey, baby." I greet Chris with a kiss and take the groceries from his arm. I smile as a small thanks for Chris using the reusable shopping bags like I told him.

He kicks off his shoes and drops his golf clubs stand bag by the door. Since having some free time on his hands now, Chris has taken up a few things including golf. It's just putting practice for now to "pass time" and "learn a new skill" but golf is all he's been watching lately and studying up on. These clubs just came from Amazon this morning and he's already asked me eight times today how his swing looks.

Duke and Stevie bombard their dad with tail wags and hopeful eyes to play, but more importantly they smell what I smell.

"Chinese?" I grin, batting my eyelashes.

Chris smirks, handing over the goods. "I read your mind."

See.

"Mmm." I waste no time cracking open my fortune cookie.

Chris takes his, too, and reads it out loud. "One person alone is not a full person; we exist in relation to others." He pops his eyebrows at me and then disregards to the paper to eat the cookie in two bites.

"The usefulness of a cup is in its emptiness." I recite.

"Huh." Chris sounds, shrugging his shoulders.

Chris sits across from me and notices my eyes locked on him.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" He asks through a laugh, slowing his jaw full of rice.

I lift a shoulder and smile, keeping my chin in the palm of my hand. "Like what?" I wonder, whispering.

"Like it's the last time you'll ever see me."

His eyes are dreamy, I just get lost in them. I'm brought back to Earth, though, when Chris waves his hand to regain my attention.

"Oh," I hum, "I'm having deja-vu right now."

Chris smiles at me. "What happens next?"

I walk over to sit in his lap. "I ask you... how would you describe me?"

"How would I describe you?" He chuckles, repeating me, holding my body still over his legs.

I nod eagerly, biting my lip.

Chris swallows. He looks up at the ceiling, puts his tongue in his cheek and then laughs to himself. "Aheh. That's funny, while I was driving home, I was thinking about that. The way I prayed for you and how every time I dreamt of my dream girl she was this radiant beauty, this ethereal, flawless, goddess with aquamarine colored eyes, who had a smile that could just... light up a room." He says almost word-for-word what Sabrina told me he said before.

Wow.

My eyes well up with tears. They're happy tears.

"What? What's wrong?" Worry laces Chris's tone.

He wipes the tears from my eyes and a broad smile spreads across my lips.

"Nothing is wrong, I love you!" I attack Chris with kisses all over his face.

He laughs, embracing me back. "I love you, too. Damn, I should bring Chinese home more often."