Failure to Release

Roy woke before his alarm, staring at the ceiling, listening to Michelle softly breathing. He was surprised at how good it made him feel to have someone next to him in bed. After all the stress, after doing his best to free Michelle from his influence, in the end waking up with her near him felt comforting.

Still, he felt exhausted. Slowly, not wanting to wake her, he swung his feet out to the side of the bed and sat up. Rubbing his face, Roy tried to shake the cobwebs from his mind. Even that little movement elicited a small groan.

Of course that woke her, which began the process of getting ready. They made small talk, quiet, friendly conversation that healthy, loving couples made when they woke up. Because until the wish made its change, that's what they were. As unorthodox as they were, to the world around them, and to Michelle, they were a couple.

They made breakfast together. Ate together. Sat together. Despite the very few hours that she'd had for sleep, her youth had made her energetic. She teased him about his coffee, playful, flirtatious. The warm feeling of waking up to her extended into breakfast. There were so many things Roy didn't know about this young woman, but from what he could tell, she would make an excellent partner to whomever she ended up with. He only hoped that there were no strange side effects from the wish releasing her. Having not spent any substantial amount of time with women after they had been freed, Roy wasn't sure if any of the changes lingered, or if they were completely released from his influence.

She glanced at the clock and groaned. "I've got an opening shift. I need to go soon."

He nodded, knowing that soon he'd be saying goodbye forever. "I'll drive you."

She hesitated, then blurted out, "Can I have a key?"

The question landed in his chest with more weight than it should have. A key meant permanence. A future. Exactly the things the wish would soon erase.

Roy didn't say no. But he did grimace. "I don't actually have a spare right now. But I'll make one for you."

Relief washed over her face, immediate and unguarded. "Okay."

That relief tightened something in him. How long until she was gone? Would it be as soon as they walked out of the apartment? Would it be when he dropped her off?

As she went to grab her things, he stopped her. "You should take your suitcase."

She frowned. "I don't want to."

"I know," he said gently. And he meant that. God, he did. "And I'm not kicking you out. Not even a little. I just... your mom. Things are fresh. Maybe you'll reconcile. I want you to have options."

That was the version of the story he could say out loud.

The real version stayed lodged behind his teeth: I don't know what happens to your things when the wish moves on. I don't know if reality edits itself cleanly or if it leaves loose threads behind. I don't want you paying the price for something you never agreed to.

"I love having you here," he added quickly, because that was also true. "I just don't want your mother mad at me forever. If it doesn't work out, you come right back. Tonight, even. No question."

He watched her wrestle with it. Saw the ****. The trust. The way she chose him anyway.

So she quickly repacked.

He felt both relieved and sick as she zipped the suitcase closed. When the wish activated, at least she'd have her life with her. Clothes. Documents. The pieces she'd earned through hard work and careful saving. He'd seen how thin her margins were. How much she stretched every dollar.

The idea of her losing all of that because of him made his stomach turn.

They left together, coffee warming their hands, the city already waking up around them.

The drive was quiet, comfortable in a way that felt undeserved. They passed cars, buses, people waiting. The wish didn't activate.

She thanked him again when he dropped her off, kissed his cheek, told him to have a good day. She walked away without hesitation, suitcase rolling behind her, shoulders squared like someone who knew where she was going.

Nothing happened.

No sign of the wish.

Roy sat in the car for a long moment after she went inside, waiting for the familiar internal shift. For the hair on his arms to stand up. For the universe to feel like it skipped the groove.

It didn't come.

He drove on.

A few blocks from his office, he stopped at a crosswalk. A woman stood waiting to cross in front of him, early thirties, maybe. High heels. Sharp lines. Dressed like she owned every room she entered and expected the world to keep up. She glanced his way, sunlight catching her hair, and for a split second he felt the old instinctual pause.

This is it, he thought.

The wish loved moments like this. Clean lines. Clear transitions.

Nothing happened.

No tug. No click. No rearranging of the universe.

The light changed. She crossed. The moment passed.

Roy's hands tightened on the steering wheel.

He thought about Michelle again. About the way she laughed at his stupid jokes. The way she took her coffee loaded with cream and sugar and teased him for drinking his black. About how proud she'd looked just walking into her shift, tired but unbroken.

He liked her. More than he was supposed to. She was kind. Capable. Still figuring things out, yes, but weren't they all?

Too young, maybe. Or maybe just younger than the mess he carried.

He hoped she could fix things with her mother. Truly hoped it. Or, when the wish finally did its work, he hoped it smoothed everything out for her. No drama. No scars. Just a version of reality where she landed on her feet without remembering why she'd ever needed him in the first place.

He pulled into the parking lot at work, still waiting for the sensation that never came.

His phone buzzed.

ELAINE: Good morning, babe. Still on for tonight?

Almost immediately, another vibration.

MICHELLE: Thanks for the ride, hon. Hope you have a great day! Love you!

Followed by a selfie, Michelle at work, making a face.

Roy stared at the screen, the two messages stacked one above the other. Looking up from the phone, he saw men and women passing by on their way inside. Some even waved at him. He smiled, then made sure to stare at each and every woman, waiting, expecting his relationship with Michelle to transfer.

Nothing. Reality was refusing, stubbornly, inexplicably, to free her.

Something was wrong.

And Roy had absolutely no idea what was going on.