Something About Us

Rhys rubbed a hand over his tired eyes, the faint drone of the reception hall a stark contrast to the roar of the jet engines hours before. 6:45 PM. Too many time zones in too little time. He glanced at his wristwatch with a quiet sigh.

"Hey, you okay?" Crystal's voice cut through his thoughts as she sat beside him. Her fingers worried at the skin around her nails, a nervous habit he'd known since childhood. Her gaze, usually bright and confident, flickered around the room, a touch of anxiety in her smile.

"A bit tired," Rhys replied, forcing a smile, "just got off the plane a couple of hours ago, but I'm good."

Crystal's gaze drifted around the reception hall, smiling politely at the guests who greeted her. "It would've been nice if Heather were here," she said, her voice quieter. "I haven't seen her in years."

Crystal's mention of Heather was like a physical blow. His breath hitched, and the forced smile froze on his lips.

Crystal seemed to notice the shift, her eyes flickering to his face in sudden realization. "Oh," she began, her voice small, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…"

Rhys forced a laugh, shaking his head as he reached out and gently took her hand. "It's fine," he said softly. "Stop, you'll ruin your nail if you keep biting it." He pulled her hand away, a familiar gesture.

She gave him a small, sad smile, a silent apology, and then slipped away into the crowd, leaving him alone with his thoughts. "I'll go find Calvin. Dinner's about to be served, and if you're too tired, you can leave afterward."

Rhys nodded, watching her go before standing up himself, the weight of her words lingering.

I should at least say hello to the other guests before dinner. He brushed away the heaviness.

He made his way around the reception, exchanging pleasantries with a few people. But a soft bump against his leg stopped him. He looked down, expecting a stray chair, but found a pair of wide, tear-filled eyes staring up at him. A small girl, no more than five.

"Did you come here with your daddy?" Rhys asked, kneeling down as she tugged on his pants.

"Daddy," she whispered, as if uncertain.

Rhys gently lifted her into his arms, his attention scanning the room. "Did you come here with your daddy?"

"Mommy... Daddy... Aidan..." The girl's voice trailed off, and she wrapped her small arms around his neck.

Rhys adjusted her weight in his arms, cradling her securely. "Aidan?" he asked, curiosity slipping through.

"Brother," she said, smiling a toothy grin.

"And what's your name?" he asked, smiling back.

"Avery," the girl replied proudly.

Avery. The name echoed in his mind, a ghost of a memory. His heart stuttered, a sudden, sharp pain. Avery.

The girl squirmed in his arms. "Mommy!"

Rhys quickly set her down, his heart pounding, watching as Avery ran towards a woman in a silver dress. His eyes followed, but something inside him clenched as he noticed the woman.

The air seemed to thicken. The music faded into a dull hum. He could only see her. The dress shimmered with sequins, catching the light with every movement. Its deep V neckline and delicate shoulder straps clung to her figure in a way that was both elegant and seductive. His jaw tightened. He wanted to shield her from those eyes, from the casual, predatory glances.

Avery reached her mother, and Rhys felt himself rooted to the spot. She turned, and the world seemed to tilt. Time slowed. He saw her. Not just a woman in a shimmering dress, but her. The years melted away, and he was left with the raw, exposed nerves of their past.

Avery beamed up at her mother. "Mommy!" she exclaimed, pulling at her hand.

The woman, with a soft sigh of relief, knelt to embrace the girl. "Avery, where have you been? We were looking everywhere for you!" Her hands checked over her daughter, making sure she was unharmed.

Avery clung to her. "Mister helped me," she said, turning to point at Rhys.

The woman's smile faded slightly as she looked at him, her expression polite, almost rehearsed. Her eyes, once warm and familiar, were now cool and distant. A stranger. "Thank you for helping my daughter," she said, her voice smooth but distant. She placed a hand over her chest, inclining her head in a respectful bow.

Rhys swallowed, the words lodged in his throat. Why is she here?

Before he could speak, a hand on her shoulder, a possessive gesture. A man's voice, warm and familiar. "Honey," he said, relief flooding his voice. "You found her. Thank God."

"Daddy!" Avery cried, throwing herself into his arms. "Mister helped me find mommy."

Rhys's gaze moved from the man's relieved smile to the woman's hand, where a simple band gleamed under the soft light, a symbol of everything he'd lost.

"Thank you again, sir," the man said, his voice warm but dismissive of any further conversation. "We'll take it from here."

"Goodbye, Mister!" Avery called, waving enthusiastically.

Rhys stood frozen, his mind a whirlwind. Memories, like shards of broken glass, cut through his mind. Her laughter, her touch, her voice. And then, the silence. The emptiness. He watched them walk away, the picture of a perfect family. The woman's laughter, once his favorite sound, now a cruel reminder of what he'd lost. He was alone, adrift in a sea of memories, and the current was pulling him under.