I stepped closer. “Thank you. Really.”
He met my eyes briefly and nodded. “Anytime.”
After the photos, people started heading their own ways. Some returned to the food tents, others wandered back to the games, and some began leaving.
I turned to Jessica. “Jess, I’m heading out. Haille’s asleep.”
“Okay, drive safe,” Jessica said. “I’m still going to hang around. Lucy and Leo want to keep playing.”
Haille was still sleeping in Harley’s arms, her head resting against his chest, one small hand gripping his shirt unconsciously, like she was afraid of losing something even in her sleep.
I reached for my daughter. “Harley, give her to me. I need to grab my things too.”
He shook his head immediately. “No need. I’ll walk you to the car,” he said lightly. “She’s sleeping so well.”
“It’s okay, Harley,” I said quickly.
“I’ve got her,” he said, unmoved. “Let her sleep.”
I looked down at Haille’s face. She was sleeping peacefully. Lips slightly parted, breathing even, completely undisturbed by the noise around us.
I exhaled softly.
“...Okay,” I said finally.
We walked back toward the mats where I had left my things. As I bent down to grab my bag, one of our friends glanced between us and grinned.
“If I didn’t know better,” he said casually, “I’d think you two were a couple.”
I shot him a look. “Not funny.”
He raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’m joking.”
Harley only laughed under his breath.
After packing up, we walked side by side toward the parking lot. Our steps slow, matched to the steady rhythm of a sleeping child in his arms.
The silence between us wasn’t awkward. Somehow, it felt calm. Maybe too calm. Harley didn’t say anything. He simply gave me the space I hadn’t realized I needed. For now, all I wanted was to get to the car, buckle my daughter into her seat, and go home.
The rest could wait.
CHAPTER 19
Elena
I looked down at Haille’s sleeping face before stepping out of her room and gently pulling the door closed behind me. Then I walked back to my bedroom, just down the hall from hers.
When I pushed the door open, it felt emptier than usual. There was no trace of Adrian anywhere. I went into the bathroom and turned on the water, deciding to soak for a while—just to enjoy the quiet, the rare luxury of being alone.
I slid into the bathtub with my phone in hand, scrolling through the photos from my company event that a coworker had sent. There were so many snapshots of me and Haille. I smiled at her bright little grin, even though she’d been exhausted, she looked so happy.
Then I swiped through the rest—pictures of Haille in Harley’s arms, group photos, moments I hadn’t noticed before. I saved every picture that had her in it—whether it was of just the two of us, or others too.
After that, I set my phone aside and let myself sink beneath the water. For a moment, everything was quiet. The world muted. My heartbeat loud in my ears. I held my breath just long enough to feel that familiar burn in my lungs—sharp, brief, and punishing—before breaking the surface again and gasping for air.
The pain faded quickly, but the echo of it stayed. It wasn’t about drowning. It was about how strange it felt that this ache, this tightening, breathless kind of hurt, was so familiar, so much like the wounds Adrian left behind. The kind of pain I could still live with.
I wouldn’t lie if love was the only thing keeping me here. It wasn’t forgiveness, not peace, or hope. Just love, the very thing that also made the resentment sharper and the wounds deeper.
