Chapter 33
I woke with a dull ache. My body felt heavy. Night's tension seeped into my bones. I lay in bed. Sunlight filtered through curtains. Soft beams spilled across the floor. Unease lingered in the air.
Alexander's outburst coiled in my chest. But a fragile hope flickered. I hoped we could mend this. I dragged myself up. The sheets rustled. I swung my legs over the edge.
I dressed quietly. I wore a soft cream sweater. It hugged my shoulders. I put on faded jeans. They felt like a second skin. They grounded me.
I padded to the kitchen. I planned to make Sophia breakfast. I wanted to make the day normal.
But she was already there. She sat at the table. She had a glass of juice. Her small legs swung. Her face lit up when she saw me. It was a burst of sunshine.
Her eyes sparkled. They were like Alexander's. "Good morning, Elena!" she chirped. Her voice was cheerful. It tugged a smile from me.
"Morning, sweetheart," I said. I forced the smile wider. I crossed to the counter. My heart softened. "How are you today?"
She shrugged. Her face turned thoughtful. She twirled her spoon. "I'm okay," she said. Then she tilted her head. Her gaze sharpened. A child's intuition. "Daddy's in a bad mood, though. Did you guys fight again?"
I hesitated. My fingers paused on a cereal box. I weighed how much to share. Her wide eyes urged honesty. I sighed. I leaned against the counter. "A little," I admitted. I kept my tone light. "But it's nothing to worry about, okay? Grown-ups argue sometimes. It happens. We'll sort it out."
Her small brow furrowed. Her hands tightened on the spoon. "I don't like it when you fight," she said. Her voice was small but firm. "It makes me sad."
Guilt twisted in my chest. It was sharp and aching. I crossed to the table. I crouched beside her. I met her gaze. "I'm sorry, Sophia," I said.
I brushed a curl from her forehead. My voice softened. "I don't like it either. I hate seeing you upset. But I promise we'll fix it. No matter what, I'm here for you. Always."
She nodded. Her frown eased. A tentative smile broke through. I squeezed her hand. Her trust was a balm. It soothed the morning's strain.
After breakfast, we had pancakes. Syrup drizzled on them. She giggled over sticky fingers. I decided we needed a break. A breath of fresh air. To shake off the shadows.
"Hey, how about we go to the park?" I suggested. I stacked her plate in the sink. "We could fly your kite. Have a little adventure."
Her eyes widened. A grin split her face. She clapped her hands. "Yes! Can we? Please?" she begged. She bounced in her seat.
I smiled. A flicker of caution stopped me. Alexander's rules loomed large. Last night's clash showed his control. "Let me check with your dad first," I said. I ruffled her hair. "Stay here. I'll be right back."
I found him in his office. The door was open. His voice was a low murmur. He spoke into his phone. His broad frame was a silhouette. It was against the window.
I knocked softly. My knuckles tapped the oak. He glanced up. His gray eyes were sharp. They met mine. "I'll call back," he muttered. He ended the call. He dropped the phone. "What is it?" he asked. His tone was neutral. But it held last night's storm.
I shifted on my feet. My hands twisted together. I met his gaze. I steeled myself against his stare. "I was thinking of taking Sophia to the park," I said. I kept my voice steady. "Just for a few hours. Some fresh air. Kite flying. A picnic. Is that okay with you?"
He studied me. His jaw tightened faintly. He weighed my request. His fingers drummed once. It was a rare sign of his thoughts. "Fine," he said at last. His voice was a low rumble. "But stay where I can reach you. Phone on. No disappearing. Understood?"
I nodded. Relief eased the knot. "Understood," I said. I offered a small smile. "Thanks."
He grunted. He turned back to his papers. A dismissal in silence. I slipped out. I returned to Sophia. I grinned. "We're good to go," I told her. She whooped. She scrambled to grab her pink kite. I packed a bag. Snacks, water, a blanket. My movements were quick.
The park buzzed with life. The air was crisp. It smelled of cut grass. And distant flowers. Children's laughter. It wove through rustling leaves.
Sophia bolted ahead. Her kite clutched tight. Her sneakers scuffed the path. She raced toward an open field. I followed. My tote bag bounced. My heart lifted. I watched her joy unfold. It was a burst of light. Against my shadows.
"Elena, look!" she shouted. She pointed skyward. The kite caught the wind. Its pink tail fluttered. "It's flying!"
I laughed. The sound bubbled up. I jogged to catch up. The morning's tension melted. "You're a pro, Sophia! Keep it going. Run faster!"
We spent the morning playing. Her kite soared high. Dips and swoops. She shrieked with delight. Swings creaked. I pushed her higher. Her giggles echoed.
A picnic on a blanket. Under an oak tree. Its branches made dappled shade. We shared grapes and crackers. The tart fruit was sweet. Peace settled over me. It was warm and steady.
As we lounged, Sophia turned to me. Her small face was serious. She plucked at her dress. "Elena, do you love my daddy?" she asked. Her voice was soft but piercing. Her eyes searched mine.
I blinked. Her question jolted me. It stole my breath. "What makes you ask that, sweetheart?" I said. I bought time. My fingers paused on a grape.
She shrugged. Her hands fidgeted. She glanced away, then back. "I don't know. You seem sad sometimes. Like when you fight. And I don't want you to leave us."
My heart clenched. A tender ache spread.
I reached out. I brushed a curl from her face.
My touch was gentle. "I'm not going anywhere, Sophia," I said.
My voice was firm. "I swear it. As for your dad.
.. it's complicated. Grown-up stuff. But I care about him a lot.
And you? You're my favorite person. Nothing changes that. "
Her eyes brightened. A grin broke through. She flung her arms around me. Her small body was warm. "I love you, Elena," she mumbled. Her voice was muffled but sure.
Tears pricked my eyes. I hugged her back. Tight and unyielding. My voice was a whisper. "I love you too, sweetheart. So much."
We returned to the penthouse. The sky was bruised with twilight. Alexander waited in the living room. His broad frame filled the armchair.
He looked up from papers. His gray eyes flicked to Sophia. She clutched her kite. Her cheeks were flushed. Then to me. His face was neutral. It softened faintly.
"Did you have fun?" he asked. His voice was low and even.
"Yes, daddy," Sophia chirped. She bounced forward. She waved the kite. "Elena taught me to fly it. It went so high!"
His gaze shifted to me. A flicker of warmth showed. The steel faded. Last night's clash lingered. His jaw was set. "That sounds like fun," he said. His tone was measured. But softer than I expected.
I nodded. My heart thumped. I set the tote bag down. I met his eyes. A tentative smile. "It was. We had a great time. Thanks for letting us go."
For a moment, we held each other's gaze. The air was thick with unspoken words. Tension. Apology. A fragile truce. Sophia tugged my hand. Her voice was bright. "Can we have dinner now? I'm starving!"
I laughed. The sound eased my chest. I squeezed her hand. "Of course, sweetheart. Let's get you fed," I said. I glanced at Alexander. A nod. A silent olive branch. We moved toward the kitchen. The day's light carried us forward.
The penthouse was quiet. The city hummed. It was a distant murmur. Sophia was in bed. Her sleepy protests faded. I read her a story. Her lashes fluttered closed. Before the last page.
I lingered in the hallway. My fingers traced the wood grain. I exhaled. The day's weight settled. The park had been a balm. But now, stillness pressed in. The tension between us. It felt alive. Unresolved. Waiting.
I found him on the terrace. His shape against the skyline. He held a glass of whiskey. The amber liquid caught light. He swirled it. His gaze fixed on the horizon. He did not turn.
But I knew he heard me. His shoulders tensed slightly. Then he let out a slow breath. The night air was cool. It was a contrast to the day's warmth.
I hesitated. Then I stood beside him. Close enough to feel his heat. But not touching. We did not speak. The silence stretched. It was taut. But not painful. Then his voice. Rough and low. "Did she have a good time?"
I glanced at him. I studied his profile. His stubborn jaw. The shadow of stubble. "She did," I said softly. "She didn't stop smiling all day."
A muscle in his cheek twitched. "Good."
Another pause. The wind tugged my hair. I tucked a strand back. My pulse quickened. His gaze flicked to my hand. "Alexander," I started. Then I stopped. I searched for words.
He turned fully. His gray eyes were dark. Intense. My breath caught. "You're going to say something about last night," he murmured. His voice was weary. Resigned.
I swallowed. "I just... I hate that we keep doing this. Fighting. Hurting each other."
His fingers tightened on the glass. "You think I like it?"
"No," I admitted. "But I don't know how to stop it."
He exhaled sharply. He set the glass down. A quiet clink. He stepped closer. His hand lifted. It hovered near my face. He brushed his thumb along my cheekbone. The touch was gentle. It made my chest ache.
"You drive me insane," he muttered. There was no bite. Only frustration. Exhaustion. And something warmer. It made my heart stutter.
I leaned into his touch. My voice was a whisper. "You're not easy to deal with either."
A low chuckle escaped him. Rough but real. His hand slid into my hair. He tilted my face up. "Elena," he breathed. My name. A plea. A surrender.
Then his lips were on mine. Slow and deep. A kiss of whiskey and regret. And something sweeter. Forgiveness. Maybe hope. I melted into him. My hands fisted in his shirt. He pulled me closer. His other arm banded my waist.
The city lights blurred. The world narrowed. The heat of his mouth. The press of his body. When we broke apart, his forehead rested on mine. Our breaths mingled.
"We'll figure it out," he murmured. His voice was rough with promise.
For the first time in days, I believed him.
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