The morning sun cast a golden glow over the garden, its warmth doing little to ease the chill in Joi's chest as she walked alongside her father. Daniel had asked her to join him, his expression somber, and despite her reservations, she had agreed.
The garden was quiet except for the gentle rustle of leaves and the occasional birdsong. Daniel's hands were buried deep in his pockets, his shoulders hunched as if the weight of years of guilt had finally become too much to bear.
They walked in silence for several minutes before Daniel cleared his throat. "Joi," he began, his voice strained. "I... I need to say something I should've said a long time ago."
Joi kept her gaze fixed on the path ahead, her face unreadable.
"I failed you," he admitted, his voice cracking. "When I let them take you, when I stayed silent, I thought—God, I thought I was protecting you. But all I did was abandon you."
Her steps faltered, but she didn't stop.
"I've carried that guilt every day since," Daniel continued, his voice heavy with emotion. "And I know there's nothing I can say to undo the hurt I caused. But I need you to know... I've never stopped loving you, Joi. Not for a single moment."
Joi finally came to a halt, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She still didn't look at him. "If you loved me so much, why didn't you fight for me?" Her voice was quiet but laced with pain.
Daniel swallowed hard, the raw vulnerability in her words cutting through him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, worn locket. Holding it out to her, he said, "Do you remember this?"
Her eyes flicked to the locket, her breath catching. Slowly, she took it from him, her fingers trembling as she opened it. Inside was a tiny photograph—her younger self, beaming with joy as Daniel held her in his arms.
Joi's throat tightened as tears welled in her eyes. She closed the locket with a snap, her voice trembling. "Why now? Why couldn't you have said all this before?"
Daniel's voice broke as he stepped closer. "Because I was a coward. I was afraid of losing everything. And in the end, I lost the one thing that mattered most—you."
Joi clenched the locket in her fist, her emotions a swirling storm of anger, hurt, and a flicker of something she wasn't ready to name.
"I don't know if I can forgive you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Daniel nodded, his own eyes glistening. "I'm not asking for forgiveness, Joi. Just a chance to prove to you that I'm not the man who failed you anymore. That I can be better—for you."
For a moment, the silence between them was thick with unspoken words, the air charged with raw emotion.
But then, a sharp voice shattered the fragile moment.
"Well, isn't this touching?"
Joi turned to see Kate standing at the edge of the garden, her arms crossed, a sneer twisting her features.
"Kate," Daniel said, his tone sharp and unyielding. "Leave. This is between me and Joi."
Kate scoffed, her heels clicking as she stepped closer. "Between you and her? After everything I've done for you, you're going to choose her over me?"
Joi's fists clenched, but she didn't say a word. She turned back to the house, her steps measured but purposeful.
Daniel's voice rang out behind her, firm and unwavering. "Yes, Kate. I am."
Joi didn't look back as she walked away, but for the first time in years, she felt the faint stirrings of something unfamiliar—hope.
---
The moment they stepped through the door, Joi felt the shift in the air. Emily and Alexander stood near the fireplace, their grim expressions enough to send a ripple of unease through her.
"What's going on?" Adrian asked, his voice low and sharp as his gaze flicked between them.
Alexander hesitated, glancing at Emily before finally speaking. "We've heard something... troubling. Rumors that Marcus is nearby. He knows you're in Spain, Joi."
The name hit her like a thunderclap. Joi froze mid-step, her breath hitching as her vision blurred. The walls seemed to close in around her, shadows twisting and shifting.
"No..." The word slipped out as a whisper, her knees buckling slightly.
Adrian was by her side in an instant, his arm wrapping around her, pulling her against him. "He won't get near you," he said, his voice like steel.
But his words barely registered. Panic clawed its way up her throat, her heart racing as her mind spiraled. Marcus. The name was a wound, and the memories it threatened to unlock were worse than nightmares.
Her hands trembled as her eyes darted to the corners of the room, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. Every shadow seemed to take on Marcus's form, every creak of the floorboards a threat.
"Joi," Adrian said firmly, tilting her face toward him. "Look at me. He's not here. You're safe."
For a moment, her eyes locked with his, and the familiar warmth of his gaze started to calm her. But then her fear twisted into something darker. For a split second, Adrian's face blurred, and in his place, she saw Marcus—his cruel smirk, his dark eyes filled with malice.
"No!" Joi cried, wrenching herself away from Adrian as terror overtook her. She stumbled back, her hands raised defensively. "Stay away!"
Adrian froze, his expression pained but understanding. "Joi, it's me. It's Adrian."
Emily stepped forward cautiously, her voice soothing. "Joi, you're safe. Marcus isn't here. He can't hurt you."
But Joi was shaking her head, tears streaming down her face. The walls felt like they were closing in, the corners of the room darkening as her mind spiraled deeper into the fear.
Adrian didn't move closer, but his voice remained calm and steady. "I'm not Marcus. I'm here to protect you, Joi. Breathe. Just breathe."
His words, gentle yet unwavering, began to cut through the haze. Joi's vision cleared slightly, and she saw Adrian again—not Marcus. She sagged against the wall, her body trembling as sobs racked her frame.
Adrian approached slowly, his movements measured. When she didn't pull away, he crouched in front of her, his voice soft. "You're safe now. I promise."
Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt as he pulled her into a protective embrace.
Emily's voice was hushed but firm. "We need to be ready. If Marcus is nearby, we can't take any chances."
Alexander nodded grimly. "I'll handle the security. He won't get close to her."
Adrian didn't respond. His focus was entirely on Joi, who clung to him as though he were the only thing keeping her from falling apart completely.
As the room quieted, Joi whispered, her voice raw. "He's coming for me... I know he is."
Adrian's grip on her tightened. "Let him try," he said softly, his words a vow. "I won't let him hurt you again."
---
The garden was quiet that evening, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. Joi sat on a weathered bench, a small notebook balanced on her knees. Her pen hovered over the page, hesitating as if the weight of her thoughts was too much to commit to paper.
She exhaled slowly, the first tentative words spilling onto the page. Then another line, and another. Each stroke of the pen felt like unearthing buried fragments of herself—painful but necessary.
Adrian approached quietly, his footsteps muted on the grass. He paused a few paces away, not wanting to disturb her. Instead, he watched as her brow furrowed in concentration, her hand moving steadily now.
Finally, Joi looked up, sensing his presence. She closed the notebook gently, her fingers lingering on the cover as if to protect its fragile contents.
"I don't want to run anymore," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. But there was strength beneath the softness, a resolve that hadn't been there before.
Adrian stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. "Good," he said simply, his voice steady and sure. "Because I'm not letting you."
Her lips twitched into the smallest of smiles, her fingers gripping the notebook tightly. "What if I can't do it? What if I'm not as strong as I think I am?"
"You don't have to do it alone," Adrian said, sitting beside her on the bench. His presence was solid, grounding. "We'll face it together—every fear, every memory. One step at a time."
Joi looked at him, the shadows in her eyes slowly retreating. "You make it sound easy."
"It's not," he admitted, his tone softening. "But it's worth it."
For a moment, the silence between them felt heavy but not oppressive. Joi's gaze drifted to the notebook in her hands, and Adrian followed her eyes.
"What were you writing?" he asked gently.
She hesitated, then opened the notebook, revealing a page filled with uneven handwriting. "It's... everything I'm too afraid to say out loud. Everything I've kept locked away."
Adrian nodded, respect glimmering in his eyes. "That's brave, you know. Putting it all down like that."
Joi's smile grew, tentative but real. "For the first time in years, it doesn't feel like running. It feels like... facing it."
Adrian reached out, his hand covering hers briefly. "And you're not facing it alone."
In that moment, for the first time in what felt like forever, Joi felt a glimmer of hope. It was fragile, but it was hers.