Running Into My Ex While Black Friday Shopping

The mall was a riot of noise and color that Friday afternoon, the kind of chaos that usually made me smile.

Black Friday.

The corridors overflowed with families clutching shopping bags, children squealing over toy displays, and speakers blaring cheerful holiday music that bounced off the high ceilings. John tugged at my hand, his small fingers sticky from the candy cane he'd convinced me to buy at the entrance.

"Mommy, can we get Daddy that watch?" He pointed at a store window as we passed, his eyes wide with the kind of innocent excitement only a child could muster. "The one with the silver band. He'd like it, right?"

I crouched down to his level, pushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "That's very thoughtful of you, sweetheart. But maybe we should look for something else. That one's a bit expensive."

"But Daddy works so hard," John insisted, his bottom lip jutting out in that way that always made my heart melt. "He deserves something nice."

I kissed his forehead, warmth flooding through me despite the press of strangers around us. This was my life now. Simple moments. Safe moments. Edmund and John. Our little family. "Okay, we'll think about it. Come on, let's check the next store."

I straightened and pushed our shopping trolley forward, navigating through the crowd with practiced ease. The weight of our purchases—a new winter coat for John, some kitchen supplies, a few Christmas decorations—made the cart slightly unwieldy, but I didn't mind. There was something comforting about the mundane task of holiday shopping, about being just another mother in a sea of families preparing for Christmas.

Then I turned the corner.

The trolley's wheel caught on something, jerking to a sudden stop. I looked up, an apology already forming on my lips.

The words died in my throat.

Benedict Flood stood three feet away, surrounded by a group of men I vaguely recognized as his friends.

Time seemed to slow, the noise of the mall fading to a distant hum as my brain struggled to process what I was seeing.

Six years.

Six years since I'd last seen that face—those sharp cheekbones, that confident smirk, those eyes that once made me feel like I was drowning.

His expression shifted from mild annoyance at the collision to something else. Recognition. Then something darker. Triumph.

"Fiona." My name came out like a possession claim, not a greeting.

I couldn't move. My hands gripped the trolley handle so tightly my knuckles went white. The fluorescent lights overhead suddenly felt too bright, the air too thin. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice screamed at me to run, to grab John and disappear into the crowd, but my legs wouldn't obey.

"Where have you been?" Benedict's voice rose, cutting through the ambient noise. Shoppers near us began to slow, their curiosity piqued by his aggressive tone.

I opened my mouth but no sound came out. The word 'Flood' echoed in my skull like a death