The Next Chapter (Cheska / Barry)

In life, some things were simply inevitable. The sun rising in the east and setting in the west. The changing of the seasons and the ebb and flow of the tides. Aging, entropy, and death. Finding the thing you were searching for the day after it’s needed. Taxes. And, Cheska realised as she descended the staircase to the sound of hammering on her front door and Barry Chaucer’s impatience loud in the hallway, this.

She’d known this would happen as soon as she’d left. Known he would one day be here, ready to tear strips off her for vanishing for so long without a word. It was anger he was entitled to and Cheska reminded herself that she only had herself to blame. The truth was, she hadn't intended to stay gone for as long as she had. Her plan had just been to put a little distance between herself and everything at home – all the expectations and unanswerable questions that had made staying seem impossible. But she’d found the longer she’d stayed away, the more afraid she’d become of returning. Of not knowing what she’d be returning to. Of having to deal with everyone's anger, disappointment, shock – things that would only grow worse as time passed.

She’d known she’d have to face it all eventually, her alternative being to start a life somewhere else, alone and away from everything she’d ever known. She knew this, and yet, as the banging and yelling continued, Cheska thought that maybe returning had been the wrong option after all.

Crossing the hallway, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and faltered. With her hair thrown into a messy bun atop her head and not a stitch of make-up to mask the dark circles beneath her eyes, she wasn’t prepared to receive visitors. Especially not this visitor. But what choice did she have? Should she cower behind the couch and pretend she wasn’t home? Wasn’t that what she’d been doing for months? Hiding, from him, from everyone. From the reality of this situation. Tempting though it was, she couldn’t hide forever.

Cheska reached for the door but her hand hesitated on the handle. She was shaking – a faint yet continuous tremor that seemed to begin in her chest and radiate outwards, making her heart thud and throat tight. It was guilt, she thought. Regret. Or maybe it was the defeated way in which Barry spoke her name. He sounded so lost, and Cheska was surprised by how that made her ache. She hadn't heard that from him in years, not since his accident when his whole life had changed. It was grimly amusing that history seemed to be repeating itself. Taking a deep breath, Cheska braced herself and opened the door.

The first thing she saw was his retreating back, and for a wild moment she thought she might close it again and pretend she’d never opened it. But she held firm, one hand gripping the door and the other holding the frame, as if blocking the entrance to stop him from barging in. Or maybe she just needed the support for her shaky knees.

She didn’t say a word, just looked at him. Over the months, she had rehearsed for this moment. Practiced what she would say when the day finally came. What she would do. But as she stood there, staring dumbly at him, it was all lost to her. Every prepared scenario, every curated word. All that was left was silence.

Some small part of her wanted to run to him, to throw her arms around his neck and tell him how she’d missed him. It was the truth; some days she’d ached with it. But that had never been their relationship and so she didn’t budge. Another part of her wanted to blurt out an apology, to get her side of the story, her sorrow, her regret out there before he could say anything to make her feel ashamed – or worse, defensive. But Cheska had never been good at saying sorry, not even for the things she knew she’d done wrong.

So instead, the first words that left her lips, the first thing she said to him in a year was, ”No need to wake the whole street, I heard you the first time.”

Well, that was one way to greet him, she supposed.

TAG // BARRY CHAUCER

WEARING // ★

DATE // SUMMER 2040

NOTES // HERE WE GO ♥

If Cheska thought she’d felt guilty before, it was nothing compared to what hit her as Barry slowly turned to look at her. She had expected to feel something – a nostalgic ache, perhaps, springing from the homesickness deep inside her, or the sense of belonging she’d only ever felt at his side. But not this. Not this. Cheska wasn’t used to feeling bad about the effects of her actions. She did what she wanted, consequences be damned. But remorse, clear and sharp, came at her fast, taking her by surprise and snatching the air from her lungs. It almost made her take a step backwards. Anything to put a little distance between herself and this wretched feeling. But she didn’t. She did grip the doorframe a little tighter though.

She told herself not to flinch as he slowly moved closer, to not show any reaction at all – the familiar power struggle rearing its head just at the sight of him. But she felt her shoulders tense and her heart skip a beat, her lungs burning as she reminded them to breathe. When he spoke, it took effort for Cheska to hold his gaze and not look away in shame. He wasn’t yelling at her, which in fairness she would have deserved, but she could still hear the anger in his carefully measured tone. Tight, as if holding back. Or maybe he was just building up to an almighty explosion.

Cheska held herself impassive as she listened to him berate her. She knew about the letters. Parker had brought them to her on his visits. Shed never admit that she’d cried while reading them, and even if she did, she’d have laid the blame squarely at the feet of her out of control hormones. It wasn’t so easy to explain away the fact she still had them, stacked neatly in a little wooden box in the back of her closet. That was a secret she’d take to the grave. Francesca Emerson had never been one for sentimentality.

She’d guessed at the rest – the increasingly desperate phone calls, the endless texts. She’d imagined his frustration growing as the weeks rolled by with no response. How he’d go to her work, her parents, her friends, looking for any sign of her. How he’d probably been here, on this doorstep, more times than she wanted to think about, banging on the door and begging her to talk to him, just as he had only moments before. It was enough to make her regret not reaching out, a little note to say that she was fine and just needed a little time. But that hadn't been a door she’d wanted to open. He’d always found a way to cross her defences.

He asked to be let in, posing it in a way to suggest it was the least she owed him given everything she’d put him through. She hated that he was right. But even so, some primal part of her warned that letting him in would be a mistake. She was tempted to have this conversation out here on the doorstep, screaming and all. The only hesitation came from the way Barry was looking at her. Cheska looked back at him, cool eyes assessing his expression. The set of his jaw, the fire in his eyes, the pulse jumping in his neck. He didn’t look like a man to be played with and so she had to concede defeat. Lips pursing, she exhaled, and it almost sounded like a sigh. She stepped aside to let him pass.

Closing the door behind him, Cheska loitered near to it as if she was afraid to get too close to him. Afraid of being pulled back into his gravity. Afraid of what he might see if he was given the chance to really look. ”I assume you’ve come here to tell me how terrible I am for leaving,” she began. Her voice was soft and steady, despite the way her heart was thudding, and rang with vague disinterest. She couldn’t help it. Whenever Cheska tried to hide her vulnerability, she always ended up sounding bored. ”Let’s get to it then. I’m a busy woman.”

TAG // BARRY CHAUCER

WEARING // ★

DATE // SUMMER 2040

NOTES // SORRY FOR THE WAIT ♥

It didn’t take long for Barry’s frustration to show. Something inside Cheska fluttered at the familiarity of the deep sigh he shared, either a sign of his exasperation or that he was losing the battle of wills they always found themselves fighting. It wasn’t surprising. She’d always known how to get under his skin. How to drive him wild in the best and worst ways. It had been fun, once upon a time, but now? Now it felt dangerous. She should know better than to provoke him when he was already teetering on the edge of an explosion. She should know better than to poke an obviously open and festering wound.

Perhaps that was part of why she did it – she wanted this reaction. Wanted him on the back foot. Wanted to remind him that time might have passed but she was still the woman she’d always been: defiant, contrary, infuriating.

Perhaps she just wanted this one thing, this dance, this back-and-forth to have stayed the same. Everything else had changed.

She stood motionless save for the pulse jumping in her neck, looking at him with a practiced air of indifference. It was normally something that came easily to her – Cheska didn’t care enough about most people to warrant an actual emotion. But Barry wasn’t most people. He knew how to get under her skin, too. Always had. So she had to fight to keep her expression steady. She didn’t flinch as he laid into her, telling her she was a piece of work. She’d been called worse and tended to wear those names as a badge of honour. Nor did she break when he posed a question. She didn’t need to. He already knew the answer.

She held firm, cool eyes holding his as he prompted her to speak, reminding her she wasn’t shy, that silence wasn’t her style. He wasn’t wrong. But when he boiled it all down to a few simple words – the root of his anger, the core of his pain – the unguarded honesty felt like a knife to the chest. And in that moment, all pretence was gone. She could see it in his eyes, heard it in the words he didn’t say. Heard it as clearly as if he’d yelled it at the top of his lungs. Heard the hurt buried beneath his frustration. He felt abandoned. He felt betrayed.

Cheska swallowed and lowered her gaze. She didn’t want him to see that it was this, of all the things he’d said, that bothered her. Didn’t want him to see her guilt or shame. Didn’t want him to see that despite this, she had no regrets. She’d done what she’d needed to do and she wouldn’t be sorry for that. She’d never regret putting herself first. Putting her child first.

When she lifted her head again, all remorse was gone. Her cool gaze returned to Barry’s. ”If you’re expecting an apology then you obviously don’t know me as well as you think you do.” It wasn’t the fairest thing to say, nor was it the wisest, but she didn’t know how to be vulnerable around him. She didn’t know if she wanted to learn.

”I left because I wanted time alone. Time away from here, from everything,” she told him simply. It was as close to the truth as he would get, at least for now. She held her chin with the same defiance she always did, daring him to challenge her right to do as she pleased. ”I don’t know why this is surprising to you.” She shrugged her shoulders – a dismissive action mirrored by the bland expression on her face. ”It’s all on my terms, remember? Your words, not mine.”

TAG // BARRY CHAUCER

WEARING // ★

DATE // SUMMER 2040

NOTES // RUSTY AS HECK BUT HERE YOU GO ♥

Cheska almost smiled when Barry declared he hadn’t been expecting an apology. There was something so natural, so comfortable, about his tone that it felt like a homecoming. In her time away, she had longed for this. For something familiar that rang of home. On her longer and more dispiriting nights, when her resolve had wavered, for Barry himself. And now he was here, right in front of her, looking at her with that steadfast gaze, one Cheska knew could see into the heart of her no matter how cleverly she tried to hide it.

It might have been a happy moment were it not for the fact that she was trying very hard to keep secrets from him.

She blinked slowly, a noncommittal gesture, when he decided he wanted answers. she could do that. After all, answers and the truth could be very different things. But he didn’t seem to care for the answers she gave, pinning her as a liar. Something inside Cheska shifted. She had known it wouldn’t be easy to keep up this charade, to keep him at bay until she was ready to let him in, but she hadn't believed it would crumble so quickly. To hide her growing discomfort, Cheska shrugged. She was a liar, they both knew it. She’d never claimed otherwise. The only difference was she didn’t often lie to him.

As she listened to Barry pick apart her word choices, it became harder to feign disinterest, growing more aware of the speed at which her heart was beating with every passing second. It was curious, she decided, watching someone put together the pieces of a lie right before her eyes. And she had lied to him – lying by omission was still lying. Cheska had the strange feeling of time slowing. Not in the dramatic way that appeared in muggle movies, but just enough that everything felt off and out of place.

She didn’t like it at all. Nor did she like the sharpness in Barry’s eyes as he studied her, no doubt searching for chinks in her armour. Icy fingers gripped her insides when saw something in him shift. Her lips parted, but before she could utter a word, he was moving, rummaging around the room, searching for what, she didn’t know, but she could guess.

”What are you doing?” she asked as he startled the people in the pictures lining her mantle. She could hear the tremor in her voice, the tell-tale sign that the control she so loved was slipping out of her grasp. She took a step closer, then another and another, her hands held out, palms facing him, the universal sign of calm. ”Barry . . . Barry, stop” Her voice was firm but she wasn’t sure he could hear her. He was too consumed by his search.

Cheska’s mouth fell open, aghast, as he emptied a waste bin onto her antique rug and incense flashed inside her, but it was so buried beneath the panic steadily building that she barely felt it. He yelled at her, demanding she tell her she didn’t, and he didn’t need to clarify to make her understand. She knew what he was saying, but the only response she gave was, ”Please . . . please keep your voice down.” Imploring eyes bore into him, but it was too late. Cheska sighed, eyes closing, a rapid sinking in her chest as she heard the cry.

Without another word, Cheska turned and marched through the entrance hall, up the stairs, and to the room at the end of the hallway. The door was already open a crack and she didn’t bother to turn on the overhead lights as she walked in. An easy smile tugged at her lips as she reached down to lift the baby from her crib, holding her close, stroking the dark hair atop her head. ”Alright, sweet girl,” Cheska cooed in a sing-song voice that was nothing like her own. ”Alright. Mummy’s here.”

She gently bounced the crying baby in her arms, looking over her face in the soft golden light of the nursery, and waited – for the sound of footsteps rushing to meet her, for the shock and horror, for a fight. There was no sense in hiding it now. It was over. This was going to change, too.

TAG // BARRY CHAUCER

WEARING // ★

DATE // SUMMER 2040

NOTES // NUDGE FOR CHANGES ♥

She felt rather than saw him standing in the doorway. Part of her wanted to stay exactly where she was – her back to him, shielding herself from what she might see when she turned around. Was he shocked? Surely he had to be. It was one thing to have suspicions and quite another to have them confirmed. Was he angry? Angry because she’d lied, because she’d kept secrets. Huge secrets. Life-changing secrets.

Did he hate her now? For what she’d put him through, for not telling him the truth from the start? Cheska’s heart sank at the thought. They’d bickered and fought for as long as they’d known each other. Battled each other for power and control. Made a game out of caring the least. He’d been angry at her before, she knew. He’d been exasperated and resentful and sullen and disappointed. But he’d never hated her. She’d never wanted him to hate her.

Bracing herself, Cheska slowly turned to face him. Her heart thudded heavily against her ribs which did little to help the whimpering baby in her arms. Yet, she held her head high, defiant as ever. She watched with wary eyes as Barry slowly crossed the room, and as he did, she tried to decipher his expression. She’d always been good at reading him, understanding the set of his jaw or the look in his eyes, but she could see nothing. Maybe she was too on edge to read him properly, the anxious drumming in her chest drowning out everything else. Maybe there was nothing to see but surprise. Maybe she didn’t want to see anything, choosing to protect herself instead.

Barry drew closer, stopping a mere arm’s length away, and as he looked between her and the baby, Cheska realised she was shaking. She’d imagined this, a thousand times. What would happen when Barry learnt the truth. Some outcomes had been pleasant, others not. In the moment, she struggled to remember any of the good ones, her fearful mind conjuring only the conflict, only the anger. He lifted a hand, slowly reaching out to them, and though she knew he posed no threat, Cheska’s grip on the baby tightened anyway, holding her close to her chest. Barry looked at her and a silent question passed between them. Cheska answered with the barest nod.

In all the scenarios she’d played out, in none of them had the sound of Barry’s voice made her feel so much. And yet, as he whispered about their beautiful daughter, Cheska felt a rush of emotions that she couldn’t untangle. Part of her wanted to deny it, tell him the child wasn’t his. It wasn’t like they’d ever been exclusive. She’d taken other lovers, as had he. She could claim the baby in her arms was the result of some other tryst, some thoughtless fling. The child of some other bachelor or someone unknown. Someone whose name she’d never bothered to ask. A mystery. Insist that any resemblance to him was merely a coincidence. Maybe she just had a type.

She could, but she wouldn’t.

”Ivy,” Cheska said, her voice soft as a whisper. ”Her name’s Ivy.” She felt a stinging behind her eyes and blinked in an effort to hold back the tears threatening to fall. She had never cried in front of Barry – at least, not a conscious Barry. She wasn’t about to start now. Looking down at Ivy, Cheska smiled. It was hard not to smile when holding her whole world in her arms. She had calmed, curious about the stranger looming over her. Only he wasn’t a stranger. He was her father and there was no sense in denying it. Not anymore.

Cheska looked back to Barry and felt her stomach flip. ”Would you like to hold her?”

TAG // BARRY CHAUCER

WEARING // ★

DATE // SUMMER 2040

NOTES // NUDGE FOR CHANGES ♥

There was a painful moment after Cheska offered Barry to hold their daughter where she thought he might refuse. He stared at her, wide-eyed, and she couldn’t tell whether it was shock or fear or something else entirely swimming in his eyes. She braced herself for him to shake his head, show his anger and walk away, and told herself she’d be okay with that. She’d prepared for it, playing endless scenarios where Barry denied any connection to the baby wriggling in her arms. Where he told her he wanted nothing to do with either of them. Cheska told herself she didn’t mind. She’d known from the start that she’d do this alone if she had to.

But it wasn’t until this moment, looking into eyes so much like her daughter’s, that Cheska realised she didn’t want to. She wanted Barry to be part of Ivy’s life. Not for the wealth or the prestige the Chaucer name brought, though when the news got out she was sure that would be a popular rumour. Just because she wanted her little girl to have everything, and that included a father. One who loved her and doted on her, who’d do anything for her, just like Cheska did. Just like Cheska would. She didn’t say any of this though, just held Barry’s gaze. This was his choice. She wouldn’t make it for him.

Relief trickled through Cheska as Barry nodded his head and she felt the corners of her lips curl into a soft smile. Carefully, she placed Ivy into his waiting arms, resting her head in the crook of his elbow, and made herself take a step back. There she watched him – how he held Ivy so gently, so lovingly, like she was a precious thing he was terrified of breaking. The warm way he whispered her name. The awe etched onto his face. Cheska recognised that look. She saw it in the mirror every day. It was the understanding that her life wasn’t her own anymore, that it belonged to someone else. Someone she’d give her own life to protect. She wanted Barry to feel that, too. Every wonderful and terrifying bit of it.

The stinging behind her eyes renewed as Barry spoke to the girl lying happily in his arms. Cheska didn’t speak Spanish, but she had picked up bits and pieces over the years. Enough that she could piece together what Barry was saying. It made her heart ache with some emotion she couldn’t name. Happiness, maybe, or a sense of belonging. Like puzzle pieces snapping together to make a picture she’d never seen before. She allowed herself to smile, though she blinked away the tears threatening to break free.

But as Barry continued, that warm feeling was replaced by cold. It settled in the pit of her stomach and stole her smile. Cheska hadn't told her own parents about Ivy yet, she wasn’t sure she wanted to tell his. Not yet. Not because they didn’t deserve the truth, only because she wasn’t ready for all the questions. How could she face their questions when she had so few answers?

”Not yet,” Cheska said, the softness of her voice at odds with the resolute look in her eyes. ”Let’s just keep her to her to ourselves for now. Figure things out.” Whether they liked it or not, they had a lot to talk about. A lot to decide. She’d rather do that without outside influence. This had to be up to them, not their families. On this Cheska was certain. ”Let’s wait to tell everyone else.”

TAG // BARRY CHAUCER

WEARING // ★

DATE // SUMMER 2040

NOTES // NUDGE FOR CHANGES ♥

Cheska could hardly believe the scene unfolding before her eyes. After months and months of worrying, of anxiety-induced nightmares, of turning scenarios over and over in her mind where everything went badly, it felt strange to witness the opposite. Not strange in the sense that it didn’t feel right, but rather in the sense that everything was finally clicking into place. She found herself smiling as she watched them together, father and daughter, both enamoured with each other from the start. For the first time in a long time, Cheska felt, rather than convinced herself, that everything would be okay.

She should have known it wouldn’t last. Perfect moments never did.

As she stated the plan to keep Ivy secret for a while longer, she watched confusion move across Barry’s face. She knew before his lips had even parted that he would argue with her. He didn’t seem to understand it wasn’t a request. She wasn’t asking for his opinion. She’d had months to plan this all out. She wouldn’t let Barry’s fervour upend everything she’d worked hard to set in place. Her lips pursed as she battled to hold back a sigh. Thirty seconds, a few words, and they were back where they’d always been, fighting for the upper hand.

”I haven’t told my family yet,” she explained, struggling to keep the edge of frustration from her voice. She didn't mention that Parker already knew, and knew far more than Barry. She didn't want to throw her brother under the bus - a sentiment that never stopped feeling odd. ”And I won’t be telling yours before I tell them.” The look in her eyes said this was not open for negotiation.

”And besides, it’s my decision. I carried her, I birthed her. It’ll be my name dragged through the mud when everyone finds out, not yours. We do this on my terms. But you knew that already, didn’t you?” Her lips twisted into a sarcastic smile. ”Your words, not mine.”

TAG // BARRY CHAUCER

WEARING // ★

DATE // SUMMER 2040

NOTES // NUDGE FOR CHANGES ♥