Chapter Three: Camille’s Quiet Life

The scent of freshly ground coffee and warm pastries filled The Blue Harbor Café, wrapping around Camille Rivers like a familiar embrace. She moved behind the counter with practiced ease, pouring a latte for one of her regulars while her best friend, Isabel Monroe, leaned against the counter, watching her with a knowing smirk.

"You're fidgeting," Isabel observed, taking a sip of her own coffee.

Camille arched a brow. "I own a café. I'm working."

Isabel gave her a look. "You're distracted. Let me guess—Liam's been asking about his father again?"

Camille hesitated before nodding.

It had started a few months ago, subtle at first. Liam would watch fathers playing with their kids at the park, his eyes filled with something Camille hated seeing—longing. Then came the innocent questions. Did my dad have the same curly hair as me? Did he like reading too? Where is he now?

Each time, Camille had given carefully measured answers. But Liam was smart. Too smart. And lately, her deflections weren't enough.

"What did you tell him?" Isabel asked.

"The same thing I always do." Camille set the latte on the counter and wiped her hands on a dish towel. "That his father isn't around."

Isabel sighed. "Cam…"

"What else am I supposed to say?" Camille snapped, then immediately softened. "I can't tell him the truth. Not yet."

She had spent years keeping the past buried, convincing herself it was for the best. But lately, the past didn't feel so far away. It pressed against the edges of her carefully built life, threatening to break through.

Before Isabel could respond, the bell above the door jingled.

Liam burst into the café, his curls slightly damp from the ocean breeze, his backpack slung over one shoulder. He grinned at her, oblivious to the storm inside her chest.

"Mom! Guess what?"

Camille forced a smile. "What?"

"There's a chess tournament coming up at school," he said excitedly. "Coach says I should enter!"

A genuine smile tugged at Camille's lips. Liam had fallen in love with chess two years ago, and he was good.

"That's amazing, sweetheart." She ruffled his hair.

"I need to practice, though," Liam continued. "Coach says I should play against someone who's really good." He paused. "Do you think—"

He hesitated, and Camille's heart clenched. She knew what he was about to ask.

Do you think my dad played chess?

She braced herself.

But before he could finish, Isabel clapped her hands together. "You know, I have a friend who plays. Maybe he could help."

Liam's eyes lit up. "Really?"

Camille shot Isabel a look, but her friend just smiled innocently.

"Maybe," Camille said, glancing at the clock. "But right now, homework first."

Liam groaned but obeyed, settling into a booth with his books.

As Camille turned back to Isabel, her friend leaned in. "You can't hide the truth forever."

Camille swallowed hard.

She knew that.

But she wasn't ready for what would happen when the truth finally came out.