The past resurfaces.

The pool has become my happy place.

When the kids were little, it was all inflatable toys, screaming contests and fishing leaves out of the water every five minutes. These days it’s just… peaceful. I floated on my back, letting the late morning sun warm my face while the world disappeared for a while.

The house was empty.

Jay had gone golfing with his usual group. Our youngest was staying at a friend’s place after celebrating her eighteenth birthday all weekend. The boys had their own lives now, which still felt weird to say out loud.

Some days I missed the chaos. Most days… Not so much.

I climbed out of the pool and wrapped a towel around myself before wandering inside. There wasn’t much of a plan for the day. Maybe binge another crime series. Maybe finally clean out the pantry. Maybe pour myself a wine before lunch and pretend that wasn’t becoming a habit. I laughed to myself. The freedom was taking some getting used to.

My phone buzzed on the kitchen bench. Probably Jay asking where I’d hidden something obvious.

Instead, it was Facebook. You have one new message request.

I almost ignored it. Anyone over forty knows message requests are usually one of three things—a scam, someone trying to sell you crypto, or an old classmate wanting you to buy essential oils.

Curiosity won. I opened it. The profile picture stopped me cold.

Daniel Carter.

College.

Twenty-five years ago.

I hadn’t thought about him in… No, that wasn’t true. I’d thought about him plenty over the years. Just never for very long. Dan and I were a missed connection. We’d hooked up just the once before Jay had gotten me pregnant. As I said I was a kind of a slut back then. Dan and Jay had even been friends before my soon-to-be husband got really intensely jealous of my past. That being pretty much all the guys he knew.

The message was only one line.

Hi Emily. I know this is completely out of the blue, but I really need to talk to you. It’s important.

I stared at the screen.

Daniel. Of all the people I’d expected to hear from today, he would have been somewhere near the bottom of the list.

I clicked on his profile. Older. Greyer. More lines around his eyes. Still unmistakably Daniel. There weren’t many photos. A couple of fishing trips. One with a Labrador. Nothing that suggested a wife or kids. His profile was mostly quiet, almost forgotten.

My thumb hovered over the keyboard. What on earth could he possibly want after twenty-five years?

I typed. Hi, Daniel. It’s been a long time. Is everything okay?

I read it once.

Then pressed send.

I had no idea that one simple reply was about to drag a secret I’d buried for a quarter of a century back into the light.