| General Fiction posted April 14, 2025 | Chapters: |
...6 7 -8- 9... 
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Control,Committment, Challenge and Confidence
A chapter in the book Emotional Guest List
The Four C's and Moving Forward
by Begin Again
"Stop it!" She stepped away from the door and leaned against the wall, scolding herself for her uncertainty.
Confidence leaned nearby, quiet but present, while Control pressed harder, insisting she change her mind.
She took a deep breath and stepped into the lawyer's office.
It was quiet — not cold, not warm — just still. The secretary greeted her with a smile and led her down the hall to a conference room. She trembled slightly as she followed. Confidence lingered behind her, hesitant. Control continued whispering in her ear: "There's still time to turn around."
She sat at the long table, fingers resting lightly on the pen, eyes on the documents in front of her. The divorce papers lay neatly arranged, almost too neatly, as if twenty-three years of marriage could be sorted, filed, and closed like yesterday's mail.
His signature was already there. She had agreed he didn't need to be present. They weren't the kind for final showdowns or tearful goodbyes. Not anymore.
They hadn't been a couple in years. They were coexisting, the kind of quiet arrangement grief builds and routine sustains.
After they lost their son, something in him closed off. He couldn't speak about it. Couldn't say his name. Couldn't bear her tears. So he built walls. And she tried to hold everything else together.
Control had unyieldingly moved in and taken over. "Just keep moving," it whispered. Don't let them fall apart. It's your job." So she got up, went to work, made dinner, smiled for their daughters, and folded laundry as she breathed in and out, fighting to survive.
She stayed because someone had to be strong. But not a day passed without the ache. Sometimes it was the sound of bubbles in her memory, sometimes the feel of a forgotten toy in the back of a drawer. It always came with sadness.
They had been on vacation — a perfect day. He was laughing, blowing bubbles into the sky, chasing his sister's giggles down the dock. One moment, he was beside her, sticky fingers tugging at her sleeve. The next, he was gone.
No one saw him slip into the lake. By the time they realized — by the time they screamed — he was already out of reach. She still couldn't say the words. Not out loud. The hurt was too painful.
It wasn't until a few months ago that something shifted. She'd been walking downtown when she passed a small coffee shop. In the window, she saw a handwritten sign. Kitchen for Rent — Inquire Inside.
She didn't plan to stop. But she did.
The space was small, but it smelled like spices, butter, and warm sugar. Stainless steel counters lined the back wall, and a row of clean white aprons hung by the sink.
And then suddenly, she wasn't in the cafe anymore.
She was in her kitchen again, years earlier — her son sitting on the counter, bare feet swinging, wearing his superhero apron over his pajamas.
"When I grow up," he said, "I'm gonna be your helper. But only if I get to lick the spoon."
She had laughed, tapped frosting on his nose. "Deal."
She hadn't remembered that moment clearly in years. Standing in that rental kitchen, her heart cracked open.
Commitment stirred — not for her husband or their life — but for herself. To the woman she used to be. The one who dreamed of opening her own place. The one who made people feel loved through food.
Confidence stirred, too, a whisper at first. "You're still here." And then, in a stronger voice, added, "Maybe you can do this."
Now, sitting in the lawyer's office, staring at the empty space next to his name, she finally understood.
Challenge leaned in, daring her to pick up the pen. "You can still go back," it said. "Safe is still an option."
Control reached for her hand again. "You've survived this long. Don't risk it."
But Commitment stood taller. "Choose you," it said.
And Confidence, quiet but unwavering, took the seat beside her.
She picked up the pen. Her name looked strange at first. Then it looked right.
She signed.
******
Outside, the late afternoon sun hit her square in the face. She blinked against it, but didn't turn away.
Outside, the late afternoon sun hit her square in the face. She blinked against it, but didn't turn away.
In her hand, along with her car keys, was a small brass key to the kitchen she'd signed for that morning. It was the first thing that had belonged only to her in a very long time.
She didn't know if the business would succeed, how she'd manage the money, the menu, or the marketing, but she knew how to cook with love.
More importantly, she knew it was time. She'd signed herself into a future she chose, and it was time for her dreams to be fulfilled.
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