The Baseball Bat
Ashley stormed into the master bedroom without knocking, the door banging against the wall. Christian was already there, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, standing by the window with a glass of whiskey in his hand. He didn’t turn at the sound. He just stared out at the dark lawn, shoulders tense.
Ashley slammed the door shut behind her.
“You called her,” she said, voice low and shaking with fury. “You called Melody to your office. To see Symphony.”
Christian took a slow sip of whiskey.
He didn’t deny it.
Ashley stepped closer, heels clicking sharply on the hardwood.
“I had to hear it from Sally. Sally. Not you. Not my fiancé. You snuck her in like some dirty secret. While I was out shopping for wedding details, you let that woman hold our daughter.”
Christian finally turned. His eyes were tired, shadowed.
“Symphony was sick. Fever. Refusing food. Nothing else was working.”
Ashley laughed, sharp and bitter.
“And you thought Melody was the cure? The woman you divorced? The woman you threw out? You think she’s better for her than me?”
“She calmed her,” Christian said quietly. “The second she held her, Symphony stopped crying. She ate. She slept. I saw it with my own eyes.”
Ashley’s face twisted.
“Of course she did! Because she’s playing you. She’s manipulating you through the baby. Making you doubt everything. Making you think she’s the only one who can ‘fix’ her.”
Christian set the glass down on the dresser with a deliberate clink.
“She’s her mother.”
Ashley’s eyes flashed.
“I’m going to be her mother. You asked me to marry you. You chose me. And now you’re running back to her the second the baby sniffles? What does that say about us?”
Christian looked at her and his voice dropped, almost gentle.
“It says I’m trying to do what’s best for my daughter. Even if it hurts.”
Ashley stepped closer, voice rising.
“It hurts me, Christian. Every time you let her near Symphony, every time you look at her like she still matters, it hurts me. I’ve waited years for you.
I’ve played the perfect fiancée, the perfect stepmother.
I’ve put up with your brooding, your distance, your obsession with that bitch, and now you’re throwing it in my face? ”
Christian’s jaw clenched.
“I didn’t throw anything in your face. I called her because Symphony needed her. That’s all.”
Ashley’s laugh was brittle.
“That’s all? You think I don’t see it? The way you watch her with Symphony. The way your eyes soften when she’s holding her. You’re in love with her. Admit it.”
Christian looked away, fingers curling into fists at his sides.
“I’m not in love with her,” he said, voice rough. “I hate what she did. I hate what she represents. But Symphony… she’s half her. And when she’s with Melody, she’s calm. She’s happy. I can’t ignore that.”
Ashley’s eyes filled with angry tears.
“Then what am I? Your consolation prize? The woman you settled for because Melody’s too ‘dangerous’? You proposed to me, Christian. You put this ring on my finger. And now you’re letting her back in, sneaking her into your office like I don’t exist.”
Christian exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face.
“I’m not sneaking anyone. I’m doing what’s best for my daughter. That’s it.”
Ashley stepped right up to him, voice dropping to a venomous whisper.
“You think this is best? Letting the woman who killed your brother hold your child? Letting her whisper in her ear, plant ideas, make her cry for her every time she leaves? You’re blind, Christian. She’s poisoning her. And you’re letting her.”
Christian’s eyes flashed.
“She’s not poisoning anyone. She’s her mother.”
Ashley’s hand flew up, almost hitting him, but she caught herself at the last second.
“You’re unbelievable,” she hissed. “I’ve given you everything. Loyalty. Patience. I’ve played the perfect role. And you still choose her. Every single time.”
Christian looked at her and his voice was quiet, almost sad.
“I didn’t choose her. I chose Symphony.”
Ashley stared at him, chest heaving.
Then she laughed, cold and empty.
“You’re going to regret this,” she said softly. “You think you can keep letting her in without consequences? You think I’ll just stand by while she ruins everything we’ve built?”
Christian didn’t answer.
Ashley turned on her heel and walked out, door slamming behind her.
Christian stood alone in the bedroom, staring at the empty space where she’d been.
He walked to the window and looked out at the dark lawn.
And somewhere deep inside, the doubt he’d tried to bury rose again... quiet, persistent, undeniable.
Symphony needed her mother.
And he was starting to wonder if punishing Melody was worth the cost to his daughter.
×××××××
Melody smoothed the front of her only clean blouse.
.. white, slightly wrinkled from being folded in a drawer for months, and pushed open the door of Brew Bean.
The place was smaller than Haven Brew, cozier, with exposed brick walls, mismatched wooden chairs, and the constant hiss of the espresso machine.
A chalkboard menu advertised oat milk lattes and matcha, and the air smelled like fresh grounds and vanilla syrup.
She had applied online three days ago after losing her job at Haven Brew. The manager had emailed back quickly: “Come in for an interview tomorrow at 2 p.m. Bring your resume.”
She’d spent the night practicing answers in the cracked mirror of her bathroom.
“I’m reliable. Hard-working. Quick learner.”
“I have experience in customer service.”
“I’m good under pressure.”
She repeated them like a mantra on the bus ride over.
The manager, Lisa, mid-thirties, apron tied tight, ponytail high, met her at the counter.
“You’re Melody?” Lisa asked, glancing at the printed resume in her hand.
Melody nodded, offering a small smile.
“Yes. Thank you for seeing me.”
Lisa gestured toward a small table in the corner, away from customers.
“Let’s sit.”
They sat.
Lisa skimmed the resume again... sparse, gaps glaring.
“So… you worked at Haven Brew for a few weeks,” Lisa said. “Why’d you leave?”
Melody’s stomach twisted.
“They let me go. Budget reasons.”
Lisa’s eyes flicked up, sharp but not unkind.
“Budget reasons. Okay.” She flipped the page. “Before that… nothing recent. Big gap here.”
Melody swallowed.
“I had… personal circumstances. Family issues. I’m back now. Ready to work.”
Lisa nodded slowly.
“Any experience with high-volume service? We get busy... executives, tourists, rush hours.”
“I handled the morning rush at Haven Brew. I can multitask, stay calm—”
Lisa cut in gently.
“Any issues with customers? Complaints? Background stuff I should know?”
Melody’s heart sank.
She knew where this was going.
“I… had legal trouble a while back,” she said quietly. “Charges were dropped. No conviction. I’ve never had any customer complaints.”
Lisa leaned back, studying her. “Legal trouble?”
Melody nodded, eyes on the table. “Manslaughter accusation. It was false. Dismissed. But… it follows me.”
Lisa exhaled slowly.
“Look, Melody… you seem nice. Polite. I believe the charges were dropped. But this is a small business. We’re in a high-profile area... law firms, corporate offices. One customer Googles you, sees the old headlines, posts about it… we’re done. I can’t risk it. I’m sorry.”
Melody’s throat closed. “I understand,” she whispered.
Lisa stood. “I wish I could help. Truly. But I can’t.”
Melody rose too, legs unsteady. “Thank you for your time.”
She walked out without looking back.
The bell chimed behind her, soft and mocking.
Outside, the cold air hit her face.
She stood on the sidewalk, hands in her pockets, staring at nothing.
No job.
Again.
She had nothing left... no savings, no references, no fallback.
The stack of cash from Margaret was almost gone... rent, groceries, bus fare.
She couldn’t even afford to eat properly most days.
And Symphony…
Melody pressed a hand to her chest, where the ache lived.
“I’m trying, baby,” she whispered to the empty street. “I’m trying so hard.”
A tear slipped down her cheek.
She wiped it away quickly.
Then she started walking.
Back to the apartment.
Back to the silence.
Because even with nothing left,
she wasn’t giving up.
×××××××
Melody climbed the last flight of stairs with slow, heavy steps, grocery bag in one hand. The hallway light buzzed overhead, flickering like it was tired of living. She reached her door, keys jingling softly, and froze.
The door was ajar.
Her heart slammed into her ribs.
She pushed it open with trembling fingers.
The apartment was destroyed.
Again.
Wallpaper she had painstakingly re-pasted peeled in fresh, angry strips.
The small table she’d righted days ago lay overturned, legs cracked.
Her few books, torn, pages scattered like dead leaves.
The cracked photo frame of her old self shattered completely now, glass glittering on the floor.
The couch cushions slashed open, stuffing spilling out.
And on every wall, spray-painted in dripping red letters:
In the center of the chaos stood Ashley.
She held a baseball bat loosely in one hand, the other on her hip. Her cream coat was still on, diamond ring catching the dim light from the single working bulb. She looked calm. Almost bored.
Melody’s grocery bag slipped from her fingers. Apples rolled across the floor, one bumping against Ashley’s boot.
Tears blurred Melody’s vision instantly.
She stared at the wreckage, the hours she’d spent scrubbing, taping, folding, trying to rebuild something small and safe, and felt her heart crack open all over again.
“You…” Her voice broke. “You did this.”
Ashley tilted her head, smile slow and cruel.
“Welcome home, Melody.”
Melody took a shaky step forward, eyes sweeping the ruined walls, the torn books, the shattered frame.
“I worked so hard,” she whispered. “I cleaned. I fixed it. I made it… livable. And you just—”
Ashley laughed... short, sharp, delighted.
“You think this is your home? This rat hole? You don’t belong anywhere nice. You don’t belong near Christian. You don’t belong near Symphony.”
Melody’s hands clenched at her sides.
“She’s my daughter.”
Ashley stepped closer, bat tapping lightly against her leg.
“Not anymore. You signed the papers. You walked away. You lost.”
“I didn’t walk away,” Melody choked. “You took her. You and Victoria. You threatened me. You hurt me. You made me sign.”
Ashley rolled her eyes.
“Poor little victim. Always the victim. You killed Ashton. You destroyed his family. And now you think you deserve to play mommy? You deserve nothing.”
Melody’s tears fell freely now.
“I’ll never stop fighting for her. Never.”
Ashley’s smile vanished. She stepped right up to Melody, voice dropping to a venomous whisper.
“Then you’ll lose everything else. Your job? Gone. Your apartment? Gone. Your safety? Gone. I’ll make sure you never survive this, Melody. I’ve waited too long for Christian. For this life. For this family. And you’re not ruining it again.”
Melody wiped her face, voice shaking but steady.
“You already made that pretty clear when you tipped off Carla at the coffee shop. You got me fired. You took that from me too.”
Ashley shook her head slowly, almost pitying.
“That wasn’t me, Melody.”
Melody blinked.
“What?”
Ashley leaned in, eyes glittering.
“Christian did that. He called your boss himself. Told them exactly who you were. He wants to see you destroyed as much as I do.”
Melody’s breath stopped.
The room tilted.
“No,” she whispered. “No… he wouldn’t—”
Ashley laughed softly.
“He already did. You’re nothing to him now. Just a mistake he’s erasing. One piece at a time.”
Melody’s knees buckled.
She sank to the floor amid the wreckage.
Ashley towered over her for a moment longer.
“Stay away,” she said quietly. “Or next time, it won’t be your apartment I wreck.”
She turned on her heel and walked out, door slamming behind her.
Melody stayed on the floor, surrounded by destruction.
She didn’t cry out.
She didn’t scream.
She just whispered to the empty room.
“I’m still here,” she said, voice raw and trembling. “I’m still fighting.”
But the words felt smaller than ever.
And the silence that followed felt like the end.
×××××××