Page 51 of Phoenix Rising

As they scurried around the kitchen, Becky found herself smiling, really smiling, for the firsttime in what felt like forever. The house, which had felt so cold and empty earlier, was now alive with the warmth of family and laughter. It wasn’t the solution to all of her problems and it didn’t magically erase the pain she still carried, but it was a start. It reminded her that she wasn’t alone, even in the darkest moments.

They settled on the couch, the bowl of popcorn balanced on Ember’s lap as Becky queued up the movie with Natalie snuggled into her arms, her red curls a messy tangle. As the opening credits rolled, Becky allowed herself to sink into the moment, her body relaxing against the cushions, her heart feeling a little lighter than it had in the recent weeks. Ember’s giggles, Natalie’s concentration and Josephine’s commentary were the soundtrack to the evening, and for the first time in a long while, Becky felt the knot of tension in her chest begin to loosen.

As the movie played, Becky found herself doing exactly what Ember had predicted—pointing out every scientific inaccuracy, from the impossibly fast volcanic eruptions to the unrealistic rescue operations. Ember, Josephine and Natalie laughed with each correction, and soonenough, Becky was laughing, too, the sound unfamiliar but welcome.

By the time the credits rolled, Becky felt lighter than she had in weeks with Natalie asleep in her arms.

The pain of her breakup with Lucinda was still there, lurking in the background, but it didn’t feel as suffocating as it once had. For the first time in a long time, she had allowed herself to enjoy something, to be present with the people she cared about without letting her heartache define the moment.

14

LUCINDA

Lucinda’s apartment was tranquil that morning. She liked it that way—controlled, predictable. She had gotten up early before the sun rose, slipping into her running gear for a quick jog before her shift. It was a ritual she’d come to rely on in recent months, a way to clear her mind and push her body until her thoughts were as sharp as a scalpel.

The rhythmic pounding of her feet against the pavement had always helped her focus and gave her a sense of control when everything else felt like it was spiraling. But today, even after five miles, her thoughts were tangled.

It had been weeks since she’d left Becky, but Lucinda still hadn’t figured out how to make senseof it. She had told herself that walking away was the right decision, that she wasn’t ready for what Becky wanted. But no matter how many times she replayed the conversation in her head, the lingering ache in her chest didn’t go away.

Lucinda finished her run and went home, her breath heavy as she stood in her apartment’s kitchen as she sipped. Her phone buzzed on the counter, and she glanced at it, expecting another work email or a reminder for her shift.

But it wasn’t from the hospital. It was her dad.

Lucinda hesitated for a second before swiping the screen. She hadn’t spoken to her father in a few weeks. The last time they’d talked, he’d been checking in, as he always did, to make sure she was taking care of herself. Lucinda had brushed him off with the same reassuring words, "I'm fine, Dad."

But she could tell he hadn’t been convinced.

"Hey, Dad," she answered, her voice softer than usual.

"Lucinda." Her dad’s voice came through, warm but tinged with concern. "It’s good to hear your voice. Thought you might’ve gone off the grid or something."

She forced a smile, even though she knew hecouldn’t see it. "I’ve just been busy with work. You know how it is."

"I do," he said. "But that’s exactly why I’m calling. You’ve gone radio silent. Even your mum’s worried, and you know she’s not one to say anything."

Lucinda’s chest tightened. Her parents had always been supportive, though they had learned long ago not to hover too much. She was fiercely independent, and they respected that. But they could still tell when something was off, even from thousands of miles away.

"I’m fine, really," Lucinda repeated, but even she didn’t believe the words this time. "Just...been in my head a lot lately."

There was a pause on the other end, her father waiting for her to elaborate. When she didn’t, he sighed.

"You know, Lucinda, you’ve always been like this," he said, his voice gentle but probing. "You need to feel like you’ve got everything under control all the time. It’s one of the things I admire most about you. But sometimes..." He trailed off as though carefully choosing his words. "Sometimes I wonder if it’s doing you more harm than good."

Lucinda frowned, her fingers tightening around the water bottle. "What do you mean?"

"Well, take this, for example," her dad continued, his tone soothing but firm. "You and that woman—now, I don’t know the details, and I’m not trying to pry—but I can’t help but think you’re running because things got messy because you couldn’t control where it was going."

Her pulse quickened, the mention of Becky catching her off guard. "Dad, it’s not like that," she began, defensive. "It’s complicated."

God, she couldn't believe her mom told her dad about Becky! How could her parents be this involved in her life with a whole country and ocean between them?

"Life is complicated," he replied, without missing a beat. "But the way you’ve been dealing with it lately, you go silent. You push people away. You throw yourself into work, hoping it’ll make everything go away. But it won’t."

Lucinda’s jaw clenched as she leaned against the kitchen counter. It wasn’t like she hadn’t thought about this before, hadn’t questioned her own motives. But hearing her father put it into words made the truth harder to avoid.

"You think I left Becky because I wantedcontrol?" she asked, her voice quieter now, vulnerable in a way she hadn’t expected.

"I think you left because you were scared," her dad said gently. "And when you’re scared, you try to control everything around you. It’s how you cope. It’s how you’ve always coped. But maybe..." He paused as though considering the weight of his words. "Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to let go a little. To trust that things don’t have to be perfect for them to work out."

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