Chapter 33
Hadley
The doorbell rang at dusk, sharp and unexpected, like a gunshot in the quiet house.
I was on the couch, one hand on my belly where the baby had been unusually still all day, the other clutching my phone like it might suddenly light up with Cal’s name.
Zariah was in the kitchen making tea she swore would calm my nerves.
Eli was upstairs with headphones on, lost in some Lego build tutorial.
When the bell rang again, insistent, I pushed myself up slowly, hips protesting, and waddled to the foyer.
Through the peephole: Cal.
My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I gasped.
I opened the door before I could second-guess it.
He stood there in the same hoodie from two days ago, hair messy, eyes shadowed and bloodshot. He smelled faintly of smoke and something sharper, chemical, synthetic. No roses this time. No apology flowers. Just him, hollowed out.
“Cal…” My voice cracked. “You’re home.”
He didn’t step inside. Just looked at me like I was a stranger who’d stolen something from him.
“I’m here,” he said flatly. “What do you want?”
Relief crashed through me so violently my knees almost buckled. He came back. He came back. Maybe we could fix this.
“To talk,” I said quickly. “Please. Just… five minutes. Listen to me.”
His jaw worked. Arms crossed tight across his chest. “Fine.”
Zariah appeared in the hallway behind me, took one look at his face, and immediately pivoted. “I’m gonna check on Eli,” she said, voice neutral but eyes screaming be careful. She disappeared upstairs.
I stepped back so he could come in. He did, slowly, like the house might bite him.
We ended up in the living room. He didn’t sit. Neither did I. The silence stretched until it hurt.
“I didn’t kiss him,” I started, words tumbling out. “Kei....he kissed me. I shoved him away the second it happened. I swear on the baby, Cal. I swear.”
His laugh was short, bitter. “You swear on the baby. Cute.”
“I’m telling the truth.”
“You kept him around for months.” His voice was low, dangerous. “Late-night talks. Inside jokes. The way you lit up when he texted. You think I didn’t see it?”
“I talked to him because you shut down every time I tried to reach you!” My own voice rose despite myself. “You’d disappear into the studio, into bottles, into silence. Kei was the only one who actually answered when I asked how you were.”
“So that makes it okay?” He stepped closer. “That makes it okay for him to put his fucking mouth on you in our kitchen?”
“No!” Tears burned my eyes. “It doesn’t. It was wrong. He crossed a line. But I didn’t cross it with him. I love you, Cal. I’ve never lied about that. I want us. I want this family.”
“Love?” He spat the word like it tasted bad. “You think that fixes anything? You think saying ‘I love you’ erases the fact that I walked in and saw my best friend’s tongue down my wife’s throat?”
“I pushed him away!” I shouted, voice breaking. “I told him to get out! I chose you.... every single day I’ve chosen you even when you made it impossible!”
“You chose the easy one,” he snarled. “The one who doesn’t come with baggage. The one who doesn’t make you work for it.”
“That’s not fair...”
“Isn’t it?” He laughed again, ugly, jagged. “You auditioned for me every damn day. And the second I started failing the test, you had a backup waiting.”
“I never...”
“You did.” His eyes were glassy, pupils blown. “And now you stand here pregnant with my kid telling me you love me like that’s supposed to make the knife twist less.”
My hands shook. The baby kicked hard...once, twice. Like it could feel the fight vibrating through me. I pressed a palm to my side, trying to breathe through it.
“I’m terrified,” I whispered. “Of losing you. Of raising this baby alone. Of you waking up one day and realizing I was never enough. But I’m still here. Fighting. Because I believe we can fix this.”
He stared at me for a long beat. Something flickered in his expression, pain, maybe regret. Then it hardened again.
“You can’t fix what’s already broken,” he said quietly. “And I’m too fucked up to pretend otherwise.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Why not? It’s true.” He dragged a hand down his face. “I went to therapy. I tried. And the second I let myself feel something real, it all exploded. Because that’s what happens when I care. People leave. Or they cheat. Or they lie.”
“I’m not leaving,” I said desperately. “I’m right here.”
“For now.” His voice cracked on the last word. “Until the baby comes. Until you don’t need me anymore. Then you’ll take half my money and run back to Vegas with your real best friend.”
“That’s not...”
“Isn’t it?” He stepped even closer, voice dropping to a raw whisper. “You told Zariah you were planning to leave after the birth. Don’t lie to me. I know.”
My stomach dropped. “I said that when I was hurting. When you chose Sydney over me at the shower. When you walked away every time I needed you. But I’m still here. I haven’t packed a bag. I haven’t called a lawyer. I’m fighting for us.”
“Fighting,” he echoed mockingly. “By letting Kei kiss you.”
“I didn’t let him!”
“You didn’t stop him fast enough!” he roared suddenly, face inches from mine. “You let it happen in our house! While I was out trying to buy fucking roses to apologize!”
Tears spilled down my cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But I love you. I love you so much it hurts. Please, just give us a chance.”
He stared at me, chest heaving. For one heartbeat I thought he might reach for me. Might pull me close. Might say he loved me too.
Instead he stepped back.
“I can’t,” he said hoarsely. “Not tonight. Not like this.”
And then he turned.
“Cal... wait!”
He didn’t. He walked straight to the door, yanked it open, and slammed it behind him so hard the pictures on the wall rattled.
I stood frozen for two seconds.
Then my legs gave out.
I sank to the floor right there in the entryway, knees hitting the hardwood, sobs ripping out of me in ugly, gasping waves. My hands cradled my belly like I could protect the baby from how badly we were breaking.
Zariah’s footsteps thundered down the stairs.
“Hadley? Oh God,” She dropped beside me, arms around my shoulders. “Breathe. Just breathe.”
“He left,” I choked. “Again. He left.”
“I know, baby. I know.”
“I have to fix this,” I whispered, wiping my face with shaking hands. “Before the concert. If I don’t… if he goes on stage like this…”
Zariah searched my eyes. “You’re thirty-seven weeks. You’re exhausted. You’re in pain.”
“I don’t care.” My voice cracked but stayed firm. “I have to make him see me. Really see me. Before he destroys himself on that stage. Please, Z. Drive me.”
She exhaled slowly. “If we go, and something happens,”
“Then we deal with it. But I can’t sit here and wait for him to overdose or crash or… whatever he’s doing to himself. I can’t.”
She studied me another long second.
Then nodded. “Okay. Get your shoes. I’ll grab your hospital bag, just in case.”
The drive to the venue was forty-five minutes of hell.
Contractions started small, tightening bands across my lower belly every ten minutes or so. I told myself they were Braxton Hicks. Stress. Nothing real.
Zariah kept one hand on the wheel, the other reaching over to squeeze mine every time I winced.
“Talk to me,” she said. “Keep talking.”
“I keep seeing his face,” I whispered. “When he looked at me like I was nothing. Like everything we built was a lie.”
“It wasn’t a lie,” she said firmly. “You fought. You’re still fighting.”
“But what if it’s too late?”
“Then you’ll know you tried everything.” She glanced at me. “And if he can’t meet you halfway… then you protect yourself and that baby. Okay?”
I nodded, but tears kept coming.
Another contraction hit, sharper this time. I gripped the door handle, breathing through it.
“Hadley?”
“I’m okay,” I lied. “Just… keep going.”
We pulled into the artist lot behind the arena. The show was already over, fans spilling out the front, security lights sweeping the back entrance. Zariah parked as close as she could.
I got out slowly, one hand under my belly. The pressure was constant now, low and heavy.
We approached the backstage door. A burly security guy blocked it.
“Name?”
“Hadley Jackson,” I said. “I’m Cal Parker’s wife.”
He looked skeptical. “ID?”
Zariah stepped forward. “She’s nine months pregnant and in labor, dude. Let her through or I swear to God I’ll make a scene you won’t forget.”
The guard hesitated, then radioed someone.
Holland appeared a minute later, face pale, avoiding Zariah's eyes. “Hadley, what the hell are you doing here?”
“I need to see him.”
“He’s… not in a good place.” Holland glanced behind him. “Maybe tomorrow...”
“No.” I pushed past him, ignoring the twinge in my back. “Now.”
Zariah stayed close, hand on my elbow.
We navigated the chaos, crew breaking down gear, roadies shouting, the lingering smell of sweat and fog juice. I followed the hallway toward the dressing rooms on instinct.
And then I saw them.
Through the half-open door of the green room: Cal on the couch.
Sydney straddling his lap.
Her skirt hiked up. His hands on her hips. Her head thrown back, laughing low and throaty while she rolled against him. His face, blissed-out, eyes half-closed, mouth slack with pleasure, was the single most devastating thing I’d ever seen.
Time slowed.
My heartbeat roared in my ears.
Everything, the fight, the apologies, the hope, collapsed into ash.
I stood frozen in the doorway.
Sydney noticed me first. Her eyes flicked over, lips curving into a slow, victorious smile.
Cal’s head turned lazily.
Our eyes met.
For one endless second, he just stared, like he didn’t recognize me. Like I was a ghost.
Then horror flashed across his face.
“Hadley...”
But the word never finished.
Because that was the moment my water broke.
A warm gush down my legs, soaking my leggings, pooling on the concrete floor.
I gasped, hands flying to my belly.
Another contraction, hard, vise-like, stealing my breath.
Zariah grabbed me as my knees buckled.
“Hadley!”
Cal shoved Sydney off him so fast she stumbled.
He lurched to his feet, eyes wide with panic. “Hadley...fuck...”
But I couldn’t answer.
The pain was blinding.
And the only thing I could think, as chaos erupted around me, was that I’d come here to save us.
Instead, I’d just watched everything die.