Liam
As the gates swung open, he spotted Sunny in the front yard with Maddie and Hailey, clearly trying to usher them inside. When she heard the sound of his car, relief washed over her face, but it was quickly replaced by something guarded.
Sunny hung back, her arms wrapped protectively around her midsection. There was something off about her posture, a tension that hadn’t been there before. Her face seemed paler than usual, dark circles smudged beneath her eyes like bruises.
“Everything all right?” he asked her quietly as he reached the porch.
She nodded too quickly. “Fine. Just… there’s been a photographer out there all morning. I’ve been trying to keep the girls away.”
Her voice sounded strained, and she wouldn’t quite meet his eyes. Liam felt a stab of guilt; she was clearly suffering from the fallout of their relationship.
“I’ll call security about it,” he promised. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m okay,” she replied, her words sounding hollow. “Just a little off. Probably stress.”
Before he could press further, Hailey tugged at his sleeve. “Can we have hot chocolate? Sunny said we had to wait for you to get home.”
“Sure thing, kiddo. Why don’t you two go wash up while we get it ready?”
As the girls thundered inside, Liam turned back to Sunny, who had already retreated to the kitchen. He followed her, finding her mechanically preparing the hot chocolate, her movements stiff.
“Did the meeting go as badly as you expected?” she asked without turning around.
Liam leaned against the counter. “Worse.”
“They want you to fire me,” she said, her tone flat, not a question.
“They want me to end our relationship,” he corrected. “For the sake of their reputation and ‘optics.’ I’m sick of that damn word.”
Sunny paused her stirring of the milk on the stove, her hands stilling momentarily. “Maybe they’re right.”
The quiet resignation in her voice pierced him. “What?”
“Look at what this is doing to all of us,” she said, still avoiding his gaze. “The girls are confused and upset. Your career is at risk. I can’t even check my email without finding hateful messages from strangers.”
“Is that why you’re acting so strange? The press attention?”
Finally, she glanced at him, a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes before she masked it. “I’m okay, but it’s a lot Liam, a lot to handle all at once.”
But she wasn’t okay. Liam noticed the tremor in her hands, the way she kept her distance, the shadows in her expression. Before he could ask, the girls returned, and the moment was lost in the chaos of spilled cocoa and sticky fingers.
Dinner was strained. Beth had prepared lasagna before leaving for the day, but the comfort food did little to ease the tension at the table.
Liam watched Sunny as she picked at her meal, moving small pieces of pasta around her plate without actually eating.
She had positioned herself as far from him as the table allowed, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was deliberately creating distance.
“Daddy, why was that man taking pictures of our house?” Maddie asked suddenly, her fork paused halfway to her mouth.
Liam exchanged a glance with Sunny, whose already pale face seemed to drain of color.
“Some people are interested in what hockey players do when they’re not playing,” he explained carefully. “But they shouldn’t be bothering us at home. I’ve called someone to make sure they leave us alone.”
Maddie considered this, her small brow furrowed. “But why now? You’ve been a hockey player forever.”
Kids and their incisive questions. Liam took a sip of water, buying time.
“Jamie from school said you and Sunny did something bad,” Hailey chimed in, her innocent tone making the words cut deeper. “She said her mom saw it on the computer.”
Sunny’s fork clattered against her plate as her hand trembled noticeably. She pressed her lips together, looking as if she might be sick.
“That’s not true, Hailey,” Liam said firmly, even as his chest tightened. “Sometimes adults talk about things they don’t understand.”
“Then why are people mad?” Maddie persisted, her perceptiveness almost too sharp for her age.
Liam struggled to find the right words, the weight of their innocent gazes heavy upon him. How could he explain public judgment to a six-year-old?
“Sometimes,” he began carefully, “people think they have the right to voice opinions about others’ lives — about who they should care for. But those opinions don’t matter as much as what we know in our hearts.”
He glanced at Sunny for support, but she abruptly pushed her chair back, her napkin falling to the floor as she stood.
“Excuse me,” she whispered, her voice strained. “I’m not feeling well.”
She practically ran from the room, leaving Liam staring after her in confusion. The girls watched too, their small faces mirroring his concern.
“Is Sunny sick?” Hailey asked, her lower lip trembling.
“I think she’s just tired, sweetie,” Liam reassured her, though doubt gnawed at him.
Bedtime presented yet another challenge. Both girls were clingy and anxious, needing extra stories and reassurances before they could settle down.
“Will Sunny be okay?” Maddie whispered as Liam tucked the comforter around her shoulders.
“Of course she will,” he replied, though uncertainty clouded his own thoughts. “Why do you ask?”
Maddie’s eyes, so reminiscent of Kate’s, looked up at him solemnly. “She was crying in the bathroom before you came home. I heard her.”
The revelation hit Liam like a punch to the gut. Sunny had been crying alone, hiding her distress from him and the girls.
“I’ll talk to her,” he promised, kissing Maddie’s forehead. “Now, get some sleep, okay?”
After both girls finally drifted off, Liam set out to find Sunny. The house felt unnaturally quiet, the tick of the grandfather clock in the hallway marking time with a relentless rhythm. He checked the kitchen, the den, and the living room — each room empty.
Finally, he climbed the stairs to her bedroom, hesitating before knocking softly on the door. When no answer came, he knocked again, a bit louder this time.
“Sunny? Can we talk?”
Silence, then a shuffle of movement from within. The door opened to reveal Sunny, her eyes red-rimmed despite her obvious attempts to conceal it. Behind her, Liam caught a glimpse of an open duffle bag on the bed, clothes strewn beside it.
“What are you doing?” he asked, a cold dread settling in his stomach.
Sunny stepped back, allowing him to enter. The normally tidy room was in disarray, drawers half-open, personal items gathered in small piles. On the nightstand, he noticed a small pharmacy bag partially tucked under a sweater.
“I think it’s best if I leave for a while,” she said quietly, avoiding his gaze. “Just until things calm down.”
The words hit him hard. “Leave? Sunny, you can’t be serious.”
“I’ve been thinking about it all day,” she continued, her voice strained. “The press won’t stop as long as I’m here. The girls are being affected at school. Your career is at risk.”
“So you’re just going to run away?” Liam couldn’t hide the hurt in his voice. “After everything?”
Sunny finally met his gaze, and the raw emotion in her eyes piercing him. “I’m trying to do what’s right for everyone.”
“What about what’s right for us?” he countered, stepping closer. “What about the girls? They need you.”
“They need stability,” she whispered. “Not… this chaos. Not having their father’s face splashed across tabloids because of me.”
“This isn’t your fault,” Liam insisted. “Leaving won’t solve anything. It will only confirm what those vultures are saying — that what we had was tawdry, something to be ashamed of.”
Sunny’s hand drifted unconsciously to her stomach again. “It’s not that simple, Liam.”
“Then explain it to me,” he pressed, frustration mounting.
She turned away, busying herself with folding a shirt that didn’t need folding. “I’m just overwhelmed. I need space to think.”
Liam reached for her arm, gently turning her to face him. “Sunny, please. Whatever it is, we can face it together. Like we’ve faced everything else.”
For a moment, he thought she might break, might finally share the burden she was carrying. Her lips parted, her eyes filling with tears as she looked up at him. But then, like a door slamming shut, her expression closed off.
“I’m sorry, Liam. I’ve made up my mind.”
The finality in her tone left him reeling. He stared at her, this woman who had brought light back into his darkened world, who had loved his children with such genuine care, who had made him believe in second chances. Now she was slipping away, and he couldn’t understand why.
“The girls will be devastated,” he said quietly. “Is that what you want? To add another loss to their lives?”
It was a low blow, and he regretted it immediately when he saw her flinch.
“That’s not fair.”
“None of this is fair,” he countered. “The press harassment, the team’s ultimatum, your sudden decision to walk away — none of it.”
Sunny’s shoulders slumped, the fight seeming to drain out of her. “I just need some time, Liam. To figure things out.”
“Figure what out?” he pressed, desperation edging into his voice. “What aren’t you telling me, Sunny?”
She looked away, her gaze falling on the partially hidden pharmacy bag. Something flashed across her face — fear, uncertainty, a silent plea he couldn’t interpret.
“Please,” she whispered. “Just give me tonight. We can talk more tomorrow.”
Liam stood frozen, torn between the urge to demand answers and the understanding that pressing harder might only push her further away. The siege mentality that had built throughout the day — a sense of being attacked from all sides — intensified into a crushing pressure.
His career hung by a thread. His daughters were confused and upset. And now Sunny, his unexpected salvation, was preparing to disappear, leaving secrets unspoken between them.
“Fine,” he finally said, his voice hollow. “Tomorrow.”
As he turned to leave, he caught one last glimpse of her — small and vulnerable in the center of the room, arms wrapped protectively around her torso, her face a mask of conflict. He sensed that whatever storm was brewing within her would change everything. Again.