Unraveled

Chapter 17: Spoils of War

Agatha's mind was back in her bathtub, to the way she'd crumbled in Rio's arms. Her tears had fallen from her eyes, and with each drop, she'd felt the weight of years of pain begin to surface, like a countdown, ticking toward the inevitable.

And then, finally, she couldn't hold back anymore.

The tears had reshaped into deep, wrenching sobs—sounds she barely recognized as her own—broken and raw, spilling from her mouth no matter how she tried to choke them back.

She'd tried to muffle them, bringing her hand to her mouth as if that could somehow contain it all, as if she could silence the flood of sorrow and rage and fear that surged up from somewhere deep in her soul.

But there was no stopping it.

The sobs—they just kept coming, tearing through her, each one leaving her feeling more wrecked, more stripped of the carefully constructed sense of self she had worn for so long.

It was one thing to break down; she hadn't truly done it in years, not since Nicky had been sick.

And even before that, crying was something she avoided, something she despised.

She hated the feeling of vulnerability it left in its wake, the way it made her feel exposed raw. It was like ever nerve was exposed—every insecurity she'd buried beneath her carefully crafted armor.

She had always bottled it up, pushing it down because to her, tears meant weakness, and weakness was something she could never allow herself.

Not even in private.

But to break down like that in front of Rio...

Agatha could still feel the warmth of Rio's arms around her, steady and grounding as she came undone. Rio hadn't flinched, hadn't looked away, hadn't let go. She'd simply stayed there, holding Agatha as pain poured out, raw and unchecked.

Rio's lips had brushed softly over her shoulder, her neck, murmuring gentle, soothing words into her skin.

"It's okay."

"I've got you."

"It's okay."

She repeated the words like a mantra, each one sealed with a tender kiss, as if she could somehow mend the fractures with nothing more than her voice and touch. Each kiss, each whispered reassurance felt like Rio was trying to fill the cracks in Agatha's heart, slowly and carefully, as if piecing her back together with a gentleness Agatha hadn't known she craved.

Rio drew Agatha even closer, wrapping her arms around her fully and reaching down to take Agatha's hand, cradling it against her own at Agatha's stomach. She held her firmly, grounding her as Agatha's chest rose and fell between breaths and broken sobs beneath their intertwined hands.

"It's okay, baby," she murmured softly into her ear, her voice a steady anchor. "I've got you."

"Mama—did you hear me?"

Nicky's voice broke through her thoughts, pulling her back to the present.

Agatha startled, her mind snapping out of the memory and focusing forward, on the diner booth where Nicky sat across from her, his face etched with concern. He held a forkful of pancake halfway to his mouth, syrup dripping onto the table as he looked at her.

Mindlessly Agatha reached for a napkin, leaning forward to wipe up the sticky mess before he set his sleeve in it.

"I'm sorry, honey. I was thinking about something at work," she lied smoothly, giving him a warm smile she hoped would reassure him, even if it didn't quite reach her eyes. "What were you saying?"