Seattle Move

19. Letters Unsent

The Seattle skyline loomed outside Amelia's office window, a juxtaposition of glass and steel against the soft hues of the setting sun. Her mind, however, was not on the city's serene beauty; it was entangled in the myriad of emotions stirring within her, festering like a wound. The crisp, white walls of her new hospital office felt oddly confining, a space that was meant to be a sanctuary for healing now resonating with her own tumultuous pain.

It had only been a few months since she'd moved from the comforting warmth of familiarity back East to take her brother's position at the prestigious hospital. New city, new job, new direction, she thought, yet the memories of Owen loitered like shadows lurking just beyond her thoughts. She tried to shove them aside, but they wouldn't let her.

Last they spoke, the air had crackled with unspoken anger and grief. They had broken things off before he left and their distance had lanced new wounds in her heart, opening her up to the uncertainty of everything.

Owen had poured his heart into letters — letters that had never found their way to her, and Amelia had taken Dean, one of her old patients who'd recently recovered from a minor injury, up on his offer for dinner. He had been eager to take her out, eyes filled with admiration.

Though he wore his scars like armour, important yet hidden parts of his past, there was a warmth to him that melted Amelia's lingering attachments to Owen. A tentative relationship had blossomed anew in the wake of that pain with Dean, whose hazel green eyes lit with warmth, barely concealing deep scars of his own. Yet, she grappled with guilt every time they shared a meal or exchanged a lingering gaze.

As she prepared for another date with Dean, memories of Owen whispered from the corner of her mind again, unsettling her.

Their informal relationship had been full of mishaps and misunderstandings, marked by passionate reconciliations and frequent breakups. Yet here they were, settling into a moment that felt significant, almost like a promise forged in the delicate intimacy of candlelight. Amelia sipped her water, infusing a sense of nervous excitement with every drop.

"So," Owen began, his blue eyes sparkling in the warm candlelight, "what do you think about having a family? Like, kids?"

Amelia raised an eyebrow, letting a teasing grin curl at her lips. "Well, I always thought about having five," she said, letting the words hang heavy in the air. "You know, a full football team."

Owen narrowed his eyes, a look of disbelief crossing his face. He took a big gulp of his water, the sudden rush of liquid momentarily choking him. "Wait, you're serious?" he sputtered, his face flushing a deep crimson as water splashed back into his glass.

She couldn't help but laugh—a melodic sound that cut through the seriousness of their conversation. "Oh my God, Owen! I was joking!" she exclaimed, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes, though a hint of anxiety twisted in her stomach.

Owen cleared his throat, the tension easing from his shoulders. "You scared me there for a second. Five? Wow."

"I mean, alright, it's a lot," she admitted, trying to backtrack a little. "But a girl can dream, right? Maybe three more? Two?" She exchanged a knowing glance with him, one that danced between playful and serious.

"You know," he replied, his tone shifting, "I never really thought about it before. What it actually means to have kids."

Amelia softened at his honesty. "Most people don't until they're knee-deep in it," she said, her tone turning reflective as she thought about her own son. "But—" she hesitated, wondering if she should confide in him how much she loved the idea of a big family; like the one she was raised in. "It can be beautiful, adventurous."