All I could do was hope she would already be home tonight.
—?—
Elena
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay over tonight?” Avery asked again, her worry painfully genuine.
I shook my head softly. “It’s okay, Avery. I’m fine.”
“Promise? If anything happens, call me. Right away.”
“I will. Thank you, Ave. And please say hi to Judy for me.”
Her expression wavered, clearly reluctant to leave, but her taxi was already waiting outside. I had to reassure her again before she finally stepped out of the house.
When the door closed behind her, silence filled the living room. I cleaned up just to keep my hands busy, hoping that if I stayed occupied long enough, maybe my mind wouldn’t drift back to Adrian’s betrayal. But it did. Over and over again.
Then I heard it, the familiar sound of a car pulling into the driveway.
Adrian.
Panic shot through me, irrational but sharp. I wasn’t ready to see him. I wasn’t ready to look at the man who broke me... because some part of me still loved him too much, and I was terrified that seeing his face would make me forgive him easily.
I hurried upstairs, almost stumbling as I made my way into our bedroom. I sat on the edge of the bed, back against the headboard, trying to steady my breathing.
Then I heard the front door open. Every sound felt amplified—footsteps, keys, the soft click of lights. My chest tightened, a sharp, aching squeeze.
The doorknob turned.
Adrian stepped inside, stopping when he saw me sitting on the bed. A flicker of relief crossed his face, so quick it almost went unnoticed—followed by something tighter, more uncertain.
“You’re home...” he said quietly.
“Were you expecting me to be gone?” I asked.
Adrian didn’t answer right away. His jaw tightened, his eyes flickering with something raw before he finally said, “No. I was afraid you wouldn’t be home.”
Then he stepped closer, only to stop abruptly.
“Elena...” His voice sharpened. “You’re pale. Have you eaten anything today?”
I didn’t answer. Honestly, I didn’t feel hungry at all. All I felt was emptiness, a quiet kind of despair, wishing this was all just a bad dream.
He exhaled. “Let me order something for you,” he said quietly. “Please... don’t skip dinner.” He stepped toward the door, pausing briefly. “I’ll be back.”
He didn’t wait for my reply. He slipped out of the room quietly, closing the door with a soft click.
Silence washed over the room again. I stared at the empty doorway, trying to hold back the tears that suddenly threatened to spill.
Why was he still like this?
Why was he still gentle, still worried, still here?
If he cared this much, why did he ever let things get this far?
A fresh wave of pain hit me so sharply it stole my breath. I pressed a hand to my chest, then slowly lowered it to my belly.My child—our child—rested there, innocent and unaware of the mess around her.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, voice breaking. “I should’ve taken better care of you today.”
