In the Shadows of Yesterday

Chapter 1

Bryson squinted through the windshield as the familiar landscape of his hometown came into view, each mile stirring a mixture of emotions he'd rather keep buried. The town hadn't changed much in the years since he left, though the paint on some buildings had chipped, and a few new shops dotted the streets. The old, weathered sign that welcomed him back into this place felt almost mocking. *Home of Small-Town Values*—that's what it said. Bryson chuckled dryly. Small-town values hadn't exactly done him any favors growing up.

The closer he got, the tighter his chest felt. The anger and resentment that had simmered for years now bubbled just beneath the surface, threatening to boil over. He gripped the steering wheel a little harder. Today wasn't just a trip back—it was about closure, about standing in front of the man who had hurt him and finally taking control. He had always thought that once he was strong enough, once he had trained long enough in the army, he'd be ready for this. But now, as the old streets and familiar houses rolled by, the doubt crept in.

*What if I'm not ready?*

His phone buzzed on the seat beside him, snapping him out of his thoughts. Bryson glanced at the screen and saw a message from Lucas, his old army buddy. *You good?* was all it said. Lucas knew the importance of this trip. He had been there when Bryson had finally admitted why he never talked about his childhood, the long silence that had followed their missions when everyone else talked about family and home. Bryson shoved the phone back into his pocket without replying. He wasn't sure how to answer.

The drive took him past the edge of town, closer to his father's house. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel as the road narrowed, memories flashing in his mind. He hadn't seen his father in years, not since he had left for the army. Now, after months of training, deployments, and missions that had almost broken him, he felt ready—or at least, he hoped he was. This was the man who had hurt him, belittled him, and left him with scars that ran far deeper than any injury he had sustained in the field. And Bryson was determined to confront him.

As the road curved, Bryson felt his chest tighten again, the air suddenly heavy. He could see his father's house now, a run-down place that looked just as it had all those years ago. The yard was overgrown, the porch sagging from neglect. Nothing had changed. He parked the car a few houses down and turned off the engine, sitting in silence. He stared at the front door, imagining his father on the other side. His muscles tensed. *This is it. Get out. Go to the door.* But his legs felt like lead.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to calm his racing heart. *You're not that kid anymore. You've trained for this. You're stronger now.* But strength didn't feel like enough. For a brief moment, he considered just driving away, leaving this confrontation for another day. But no. He couldn't. He had come too far for that. With one last deep breath, he unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door, stepping out into the cool November air.

---

A few miles away, Ava hurried through her kitchen, her hands full of dishes while her mom, Vivian, sorted through bills at the table. The small house felt even more cramped today, with her younger brother Adrian studying at the counter nearby, furiously scribbling into a notebook. Ava wiped her hands on her apron and leaned against the counter, watching her mom with a worried expression. Vivian hadn't said much all day, her face etched with the same tired lines Ava had seen growing deeper over the years. The bills had been piling up lately, and even with Ava working full-time while finishing her last year in the Nursing BSN Bridge program, it never seemed to be enough.

"Mom, I can cover the electric bill this month," Ava offered, walking over to the table. "I'll just pick up another shift at the hospital."

Vivian looked up from the pile of papers, her lips pressed into a thin line. "You're already working too much, Ava. You need to focus on school."

"I'll manage," Ava said, forcing a smile. She always said that, and most of the time, she believed it. But lately, the weight of everything—work, school, her family—was starting to feel unbearable. There were days when she wanted to scream, to just run away and live the life she'd always dreamed of, but the thought of leaving her family behind kept her grounded. She couldn't abandon them, not like her father had. No matter how hard things got, she wouldn't make them go through that again.

Her mom sighed and leaned back in her chair. "You're just like your father. Always trying to carry everything on your own shoulders."

Ava stiffened at the mention of him. "I'm nothing like him."

Vivian's eyes softened. "I didn't mean it that way. It's just...you've taken on so much, more than any twenty-year-old should have to."

"I'll be fine," Ava said, brushing it off. She wasn't fine, not really. But what choice did she have?

Just then, Adrian looked up from his notebook. "Hey, Ava, can you check my math homework? I think I messed something up with this equation."

"Sure, just give me a second," she said, glancing at the clock. "But we've got to make it quick. I'm heading out soon."

Adrian raised an eyebrow. "Heading out? You've been working like crazy. Where are you going now?"

Ava hesitated. "Just...to the café. I need some time for myself."

Adrian gave her a knowing look, nodding as he went back to his work. "Well, don't stay out too late."

Ava smiled, feeling a little guilty. But she needed this. As much as she loved her family, the weight of everything was starting to crush her. A quick escape to the café would help clear her mind, give her a little peace before the next wave of responsibilities came crashing down.

As she walked out the door, she couldn't shake the lingering frustration—not just at her family but at herself. Why couldn't she say no, just once? Why couldn't she take control of her own life the way she wanted to?

---

Back at the edge of town, Bryson took a few hesitant steps toward his father's house. His breath fogged in the cold air as he stood at the edge of the driveway, staring at the front door. Memories rushed back—shouts, slamming doors, and the long stretches of silence that had defined his childhood.

The door seemed a million miles away.