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                     THE  MIDMORNING  SUNLIGHT  FLOODS  THE  ROOM,  illuminating  amelia's  red-tinged  locks  &&  casting  a  halo-like  glow  around  her.  there's  a  sweet,  chocolatey  scent  faintly  present  in  the  room  from  the  cookies  she  made  a  half-hour  prior ;  a  plate  of  them  sitting  atop  her  kitchen  counter,  half-eaten.  her  head  rests  on  tyler's  lap  as  she  gazes  adoringly  at  him,  a  small  smile  on  her  lips.  the  contentment  is  so  clear  on  her  face  that  she  is  a  near-facsimile  of  the  goddess  euphrosyne  herself.  "hello,"  amelia's  voice  is  soft  &&  a  gentle  hand  reaches  up,  fingertips  brushing  against  tyler's  jawline.  she  remembers  the  day  she  realized  she  had  fallen  in  love  with  him  &&  her  smile  widens  —  how  could  she  ever  forget  that  day?  the  way  her  heartbeat  quickened ;  the  way  she  was  so  nervous  she  kept  fumbling  over  her  words  like  a  schoolgirl ;  the  quick,  periodic  glances  she  stole,  worried  he  would  catch  her  staring.  it  was  that  day,  when  she  saw  not  a  single  flaw  in  him,  that  she  knew  her  heart  was  no  longer  hers  alone.  though,  she  never  dared  to  speak  the  words.  it  wasn't  until  now  that  she  felt  ready  —  as  ready  as  one  could  feel  when  telling  their  significant  other  they  loved  them  for  the  first  time.  she  sits,  swinging  her  legs  beneath  her  so  she’s  sitting  on  them.  her  hand  is  no  longer  pressed  against  tyler’s  cheek  but  instead  holds  his  hand  in  the  empty  space  between  them.

                     “tyler  hawkins,”  his  name  leaves  her  mouth,  full  of  sweetness.  “i  love  you.”  though  she  speaks  the  words  for  the  first  time,  they  feel  so  natural  falling  from  her  lips.  it  takes  no  effort,  no  thinking.  it  is  as  if  she  was  always  meant  to  speak  those  words  aloud.  she  adores  the  way  the  sound  of  them  fills  the  air  &&  she  leans  forward,  resting  her  forehead  against  his.

For eight years she was able to reason with herself against the need to visit him. For a long time, just the fear of being seen there was enough to change her mind. Over the years, though, it took more and more to stop her from doing it.

Tristan loved Frannie in a way that maybe no one else will. It was brief but intense. More intense than she could handle. And in the midst of so many doubts she had, there was something she felt with absolute certainty.

Tristan wouldn't judge her hesitation at the slip of paper she was holding with Connor's brother's phone number on it.

And that's why she was standing in front of his grave right now, even though every part of her body was telling her to run.

Leaning in to leave her lilies beside some sunflowers, Frannie couldn’t help but think she was being selfish and using him. Again. And now it was very much wrong because he was dead. God, he was dead. She has always been so emotionally stable, but the past year was harder than anything else she went through so it wasn’t a surprise when she felt her eyes welling up so soon.

“I’ve been wondering lately… Did you know this would happen?” Her voice was quiet even though she felt like screaming. “When you introduced me to Connor, did you know I’d spent the night with him only to spite you?”

A cold chill enveloped her heart then. The sting of guilt.

And a lump immediately formed in her throat, so she looked away, choking back a sob. Her “goddamnit, Tristan” was barely a whisper and she pressed her lips together because there was no way she would be able to calm herself down if she kept talking.

It was easier to blame someone else, Frannie knew it. Even though she was taught to offer anything but respect to people like him, even though she spent nearly half her life hating everything he meant. Blaming it all on him just wasn’t right. “For the record, I don’t regret having Benji.” Tears rolled down her face and she took a deep breath. She wanted to admit that she did regret Benji was not his, but couldn’t work up the never to do so. Which felt pretty silly. He wasn’t even listening, for God’s sake. He wasn’t.

“It figures I’d take eight years to face it, huh?” Frannie sighed, the winter before Tristan died coming to her mind. Had she accepted his invite he would still be here. Probably. She had no way of knowing for sure, but just the possibility was enough to make her feel bad. And because of that, Frannie buried it deep inside her, but right now it was impossible not to dwell on the past. If she was different, maybe he would be with her and not on the road that day. And Benji would be his kid because if she wasn’t so terrified to admit her love for someone like him, she wouldn’t have gone out with Connor just to hurt Tristan so much he would leave her alone. And if he had fathered Benji instead then maybe he wouldn't be so sick now. “God, I don’t know what to do,” she shook her head, trying to stop thinking about what ifs and maybes, wiped her tears, and then chuckled weakly, “I hope you’re at least having a good laugh whatever you are, watching me going crazy because I’m not in control.”

“aren't you looking for something?" meredith asked as she had lexie's phone in her hand. "you left it on a table in the corridor right next to my bedroom and it's keep ringing." she said right as lexie took her own phone from meredith. "I don't want to be curious or try to act like your mother but who is calling you?" 

after stepping in, she immediately felt the scent and the atmosphere of her old life. looking around with a smile on her face, she finally fell into her fluffy beige sofa. gosh, this sofa reminded her of a lot of memories. good memories and even the worst ones. she was glad for all of them. they made her who she was so she was thankful for that.

@revellcr​

After her conversation with Demir, if texting could really be considered a real conversation, the idea of paying him a visit occupied her mind and once Estelle had an idea, it was hard to get rid of it. She found herself walking up to the Arslan’s familiar front door and had no issue getting inside. Either Demir had told the help she was coming or he hadn’t told them to keep her out. Whichever it was, Estelle was thankful for not having to cause some kind of scene to get inside. 

At this hour, she knew he would be in his home office, he was a man with a schedule after all, and Stel could only imagine that he was trying his best to keep his mind busy. Work was one way he did that. Heels tapped against marble floors, a confident rhythm to her step. She’d been here a thousand times before and, if she had anything to do with it, she’d be coming back a thousand times more. Pushing the office door open, Estelle leaned against the doorframe with a mischievous smile on her lips. “You look stressed, darling. Hard day?”