“Why didn’t you put her in the stroller?” I asked, voice tightening.
“I didn’t bring one. It’s not a big deal. He held her for like a minute. And we went home right after the photos,” she replied, her tone rising defensively.
I forced myself to keep it together, because if I exploded, she’d explode right back. “I don’t like it,” I said flatly.
“Well, if you don’t like it, then come home. Do you think I wasn’t exhausted?” she snapped.
“If I could’ve been there, I would’ve,” I bit out, frustration bleeding through despite how hard I tried to keep my tone level.
“Then don’t complain when someone else helps me,” she shot back, chin lifting slightly, eyes sharp with exhaustion and irritation, like she was daring me to argue.
The words hit me like a slap. Surprise flashed across my face before hardening into something much darker. My posture straightened, shoulders tensing as heat curled tight in my chest. The shock burned off quickly, replaced by a slow, simmering anger that sharpened my gaze.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked, my voice dropping, lower and colder than before.
Elena hesitated, realizing she’d chosen the wrong words.
“No—”
“No, say it,” I cut her off. “What did you mean by that? If I’m not there, you’ll just replace me with someone else?”
“No. That’s not what I meant,” she said quickly, tension in her voice easing just a little.
“You said it,” I pushed. “Don’t backtrack now.”
“No.” Her voice softened this time. “I just meant that someone offered to help, so I let him. That’s it.” Her shoulders eased a little, and she blinked slowly.
“I’m trying, Elena. If I could’ve been with you yesterday, I would have. But I can’t watch another man hold my daughter and act like it doesn’t affect me.”
Her eyes flickered. And in that split second, I hated myself for how honest that sounded.
I exhaled through my nose, fighting the urge to slam something. “Next time, bring the stroller,” I said, tone controlled but loaded. “Please. You were alone.”
“...okay,” she whispered, voice smaller now.
I heard it immediately, the way she retreated instead of arguing back, and something in my chest tightened at the familiar shift.
“Get some rest. I’ll try to catch a little sleep before I head back to the site,” I said, keeping my tone even before ending the call.
And the moment the screen went dark, the anger drained and guilt settled in—quiet, heavy, and impossible to ignore—because beneath all of it was fear: fear of being replaced, fear that my absence was giving someone else room to stand where I once did, and the bitter clarity that I had no one to blame but myself, because I’d created it and handed it to myself the night I broke her.
Now I had to live with it.
—?—
Elena
After he ended the call, I stared at the screen for a moment.
Was Adrian actually jealous of Harley?
He’d never had an issue with any of my male coworkers before, so why did his reaction seem so excessive this time? Did he really think I would so easily lower myself and turn to another man the way he once had with Phoebe?
Anger flared in my chest. What right did he have to accuse me of something I hadn’t even done? Did he think that just because he cheated, I would eventually do the same?
I pushed myself off the bed and walked to the bathroom, splashing cold water onto my face just to clear my head. The cold stung against my palms, sharp enough to ground me.
He had no right.
