Chapter 17
Gray stood frozen, his mind struggling to keep up, his body moving on autopilot as he watched Cadi finish packing.
It was chaotic—clothes shoved in without folding, shoes thrown in haphazardly, toiletries carelessly dumped into a side pocket. Everything about it screamed disorder, a stark contrast to the eerie calm she projected on the outside. It was as if her body was betraying the emotions she refused to express.
Gray didn't realize he was following her until he found himself standing in Tomos' bedroom doorway.
Cadi was already there, her movements just as frantic, just as unthinking.
She pulled open drawers, stuffing in shirts—his favourite bright red T-rex hoodie, mismatched socks, pyjamas that barely fit anymore. His toy train, the one Gray had bought him for his third birthday, was tossed in next, followed by a half-read bedtime storybook. Then she reached for the blanket.
Gray's chest tightened the moment he saw it.
The faded red fabric with a border of tiny foxes and rabbits, worn thin from years of use. It was ragged, frayed at the edges, but loved beyond measure.
Tomos never slept without it.
Cadi stilled, her fingers tightening around it. She brought it to her face, inhaling deeply.
The moment suspended, stretching into something fragile, something sacred.
Then, silent tears fell, soaking into the already well-worn fabric.
A memory
Gray's mother had been frail, her body brittle with sickness, her skin pale against the soft lilac scarf she had tied over her bald head.
The cancer had taken so much—her strength, her hair, her independence.
She had always been a worrier—a woman who fretted over everything, from minor illnesses to whether Gray was eating enough, to whether the world outside their small home was safe enough for him.
That worry had followed her all her life, only growing sharper when she was diagnosed with cervical cancer.
But now, in these final weeks, something had shifted.
The worry had drained out of her.
It hadn't been replaced with peace—not exactly. But there was something close to relief in its place. A final letting go after the trauma of chemotherapy, after the fight she had waged and lost.
Cadi, six months pregnant at the time, had been sitting beside her as she laboriously moved to the edge of her bed, her breath shallow but her eyes warm.
"Come here, love," she had whispered, extending a thin, trembling hand toward the cupboard beside her. "I have something for ya."
Cadi had rushed to help, watching as Gray's mother reached for something tucked away on the highest shelf.
She had pulled it down with care, pressing the folded fabric against her chest for a moment before handing it over.
"This was Gray's."
Cadi had looked down at the red blanket with the tiny fox and rabbit border, her fingers tracing the delicate knitted patterns that had been stitched with such love.
"For the child," his mother had continued, her voice soft, but steady. "I hope he—" she faltered, then smiled, "I hope he loves it as much as Gray did."
Cadi had swallowed thickly, overwhelmed.
"Thank you," she had whispered, and Gray's mother had squeezed her hand, her touch weak but full of conviction.
"Ya are a gift to Gray, after all that he suffered," she had said. "Take care of him, will ya?"
Cadi had nodded, not knowing that three weeks later, the woman who had once been strong against all odds would be gone.
Cadi blinked rapidly, coming back to herself, the blanket still clutched tightly in her hands.
She wasn't aware of how long she had stood there until she turned her head slightly—and saw Gray watching her.
He was standing completely still, his face unreadable, but his eyes held something unfamiliar—not anger, not resentment, but... wariness.
Like she was a wild animal he wasn't sure how to approach.
Without a word, she dragged the suitcase back to the landing before heading toward the master bedroom to retrieve her own.
Her gaze caught on a photograph resting on the bedside table.
A frozen moment in time—an unguarded snapshot of their family after one of Gray's rugby matches. The friendly matches turned a tad competitive more often than not. They were all laughing, drenched in rain, Tomos sitting on Gray's shoulders, giggling at something ridiculous Cadi had said.
The rage hit suddenly.
Before she could stop herself, she snatched the frame and hurled it against the wall.
Glass shattered.
The sound should have been deafening, but somehow, the room felt deathly silent.
She wanted to scream—to rage—but the only thing that came were silent tears that trickled down her face, unchecked. She made no move to dry them.
Gray stood motionless at the doorway, his expression unreadable, having trailed her from Tomos' room.
Cadi exhaled shakily, blinking back the moisture in her eyes. Then, she spoke.
"You know, when I woke up this morning, you and Tomos were the most important people in my life."
Gray's jaw ticked, but he didn't say a word.
"I loved you both more than life." She let out a breath, her voice dangerously steady. "But now I realize, I only ever had Tomos."
She turned fully to face him, her chin lifting. "And it is my duty to protect him."
Gray flinched. A flicker of something—pain?—crossed his face, but it was gone too quickly to be certain.
Cadi continued, her voice quiet but relentless.
"That should have been our duty—something you and I did together. But you failed at that. I would like nothing better than to never see your evil face again."
She took a deep breath and picked up her suitcase. "There is no sense in prolonging things. We will do the test tomorrow. I will bring him over at ten. Be here."
Gray didn't move as she dragged both suitcases toward the stairs. He followed her silently, his thoughts a tangled mess, his world fracturing faster than he could hold it together.
When she reached the door, she paused, one hand on the handle.
Then, without turning around, she said, "Though we are over, Tomos still deserves to have a father. He is young enough to forget what you have done."
Gray's breath hitched.
"And I hope you will do what is right when the test comes back."
Her voice was softer now, but no less certain.
"He doesn't deserve to be hurt more than he already has been."
Then, with deliberate finality, she gently closed the door behind her.
And just like that, she was gone.