Chapter Text
“Mom and Dad… not together?”
“When will I see Dad again?”
“Am I the reason for the divorce?”
“Is this my fault?”
Those questions spun endlessly in Laurie’s head, tangled like a storm she couldn’t escape. At twelve, she didn’t understand why love between grown-ups could suddenly break apart — only that the people she loved most were drifting in opposite directions.
She knew she could be a handful sometimes — a “reliability,” as her mom once put it. Being born premature left her small, a little fragile, and always fumbling. She tripped over her own feet, dropped things without meaning to, and never seemed to move as gracefully as other kids. Still, she tried.
With no clear answers and an ache for guidance, Laurie turned to the one person she trusted most — Rochelle, her best friend. Rochelle knew something about loss. Her father had passed away in a work accident just a week after her little brother was born. If anyone could understand what it felt like for the world to change overnight, it was her.
They met at the softball field that afternoon, gloves in hand, tossing a ball back and forth under the warm sun.
“So… uh…” Laurie began, fumbling the ball before it rolled to her feet. “My parents are getting a divorce.”
Rochelle caught the next throw but froze, the words hanging heavy in the air. “Oh… wow, that’s—”
“Disappointing, I know,” Laurie cut in, forcing a weak laugh.
Rochelle softened her voice. “How are you feeling about it?”
Laurie stared down at the dirt. Her lips trembled as if trying to form an answer, but nothing came. Instead, tears welled in her eyes — big, glistening drops that hit the dry ground like tiny raindrops.
“Hey, hey…” Rochelle set her glove aside and wrapped her arms around Laurie. “It’s okay, Laur. Everything’s gonna be alright. You’ll get through this. You’ve got me, okay? I’ll be here.”
Laurie pressed her face into Rochelle’s shoulder, sobbing quietly. Rochelle’s embrace reminded her of safety — of what it meant to be seen, to not have to carry everything alone.
“Thank you, Roch,” Laurie whispered after a while, pulling back with a small smile. “I really needed that.”
After saying goodbye, the girls went their separate ways. As Laurie walked home, her thoughts spun again, softer this time. She was grateful for Rochelle — for the comfort — but she still wanted answers. Deeper ones.
Her mom’s “crystal thingies” definitely weren’t it. Those glittering stones never predicted anything right.
Lost in thought, Laurie didn’t notice where she was walking until she realized she’d taken a wrong turn. The houses looked unfamiliar — quiet, with overgrown yards and faded porches. Frustrated, she turned around to retrace her steps.
That’s when she heard it.
Music.
A sound so lovely and serene it stopped her in her tracks. It drifted through the air from the end of the street — gentle, echoing, almost heavenly. Drawn by curiosity, she followed it.
At the corner stood a small church, humble but radiant in the afternoon light. The doors were open, and the music flowed out from within.
Laurie stepped inside.
Warm sunlight streamed through stained glass, painting the wooden pews with colors of sapphire, amber, and rose. The air smelled faintly sweet, like burning candles and polished wood. She felt something stir in her chest — peace, maybe, or wonder.
Up front, a man sat at an organ, his fingers dancing across the keys. The melody swelled, filling the sanctuary. Laurie’s eyes fluttered closed as the final notes rose and fell like a sigh.
She’d never felt anything like it before — a strange mix of lightness, tenderness, and quiet comfort. Could this be what she’d been looking for?
The music faded. Silence settled.
Then the man turned slightly, his voice gentle yet resonant:
“Hello, my child. Are you lost?”