Not in the Script

7

It was a lazy Saturday, the kind where neither Brylee nor Colin had any intention of leaving the couch. She was curled up against him, drowning in his old Harvard sweatshirt, while he lazily scrolled through his phone. Their new house still had that fresh smell—wood floors, new paint, and the lingering scent of the coffee they had brewed that morning.

Then, there was a knock at the door.

Brylee frowned. They weren't expecting anyone.

"I got it," Colin mumbled, shifting to get up, but Brylee placed a hand on his chest, stopping him.

"No, I got it," she said, swinging her legs off the couch. She padded to the door, pulling the sweatshirt's sleeves over her hands as she opened it.

And there, standing on the porch, was Ella.

The 13-year-old stood small but defiant, her expression carefully blank. A duffel bag was slung over her shoulder, and in her hands, she clutched a thick stack of papers.

But what hit Brylee the hardest wasn't any of that.

It was the hoodie Ella was wearing.

Brylee recognized it instantly—it was hers. One she had given Ella on set months ago when the girl had been freezing between takes. She had told her to keep it, that it wasn't a big deal.

But it was a big deal.

Because Ella had kept it. And now, she was here.

Brylee's stomach twisted. "Sweetheart," she breathed, stepping back. "Come inside."

Ella didn't hesitate. She stepped over the threshold, the duffel bag bouncing against her side.

Colin had sat up when he heard the door open, his brows pulling together in confusion. "Ella?"

She nodded, but didn't speak.

Brylee guided her to the couch, sitting beside her while Colin scooted closer.

"What's going on?" Brylee asked gently.

Ella's grip tightened around the papers in her lap. And then, wordlessly, she handed them over.

Brylee hesitated before taking them, her fingers trembling slightly as she flipped through the pages. And then she saw it.

TRANSFER OF GUARDIANSHIP

Her breath caught.

Colin leaned over, scanning the document, and when he saw the words, his entire body stiffened. "Are you kidding me?" he muttered.

Brylee's heart was breaking. "Did you know they were doing this?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Ella swallowed hard and shook her head.

Brylee felt her chest ache. The sheer weight of it crushed her—this kid, this sweet, wonderful girl, had been discarded. Signed away. Without warning. Without care.

Her hands clenched around the papers as she forced down the lump in her throat.

She turned to Colin, who still hadn't said anything else, but she knew what he was feeling. His jaw was locked tight, his hands curled into fists. Furious. Protective.

They exchanged a look.

And then Colin, voice steady but soft, asked, "Ella... what do you want?"

Ella hesitated, as if she wasn't sure she was allowed to answer.

Brylee reached out, gripping her hand tightly. "This is your choice, sweetheart," she murmured. "Not theirs. Yours."