CHAPTER 20
Adrian
I barely slept last night. I must’ve stared at those pictures Elena sent for hours until exhaustion finally knocked me out. And the moment I woke up—six in the damn morning—I didn’t waste time. I needed answers. Right then. Not later.
I tried video calling her. Twice, she didn’t pick up. On the third try, she finally answered.
“Adrian? What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice still rough with sleep.
“Can I talk to you?” I shot back immediately. No small talk. No preamble.
Her brows furrowed, confusion written across her face, but she nodded slowly.
“I saw the photos from your company event last night,” I said, jaw clenched. “Explain to me why our daughter was asleep in your junior’s arms.”
Elena blinked, clearly thrown off. She inhaled deeply before responding.
“Oh... I was tired yesterday. And Harley offered to carry her for a bit.”
But that answer didn’t sit right with me. Not even close.
“Why didn’t you put her in the stroller?” I asked, voice tightening.
“I didn’t bring one. It’s not a big deal. He held her for like a minute. And we went home right after the photos,” she replied, her tone rising defensively.
I forced myself to keep it together, because if I exploded, she’d explode right back. “I don’t like it,” I said flatly.
“Well, if you don’t like it, then come home. Do you think I wasn’t exhausted?” she snapped.
“If I could’ve been there, I would’ve,” I bit out, frustration bleeding through despite how hard I tried to keep my tone level.
“Then don’t complain when someone else helps me,” she shot back, chin lifting slightly, eyes sharp with exhaustion and irritation, like she was daring me to argue.
The words hit me like a slap. Surprise flashed across my face before hardening into something much darker. My posture straightened, shoulders tensing as heat curled tight in my chest. The shock burned off quickly, replaced by a slow, simmering anger that sharpened my gaze.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked, my voice dropping, lower and colder than before.
Elena hesitated, realizing she’d chosen the wrong words.
“No—”
“No, say it,” I cut her off. “What did you mean by that? If I’m not there, you’ll just replace me with someone else?”
“No. That’s not what I meant,” she said quickly, tension in her voice easing just a little.
“You said it,” I pushed. “Don’t backtrack now.”
“No.” Her voice softened this time. “I just meant that someone offered to help, so I let him. That’s it.” Her shoulders eased a little, and she blinked slowly.
“I’m trying, Elena. If I could’ve been with you yesterday, I would have. But I can’t watch another man hold my daughter and act like it doesn’t affect me.”
Her eyes flickered. And in that split second, I hated myself for how honest that sounded.
I exhaled through my nose, fighting the urge to slam something. “Next time, bring the stroller,” I said, tone controlled but loaded. “Please. You were alone.”
“...okay,” she whispered, voice smaller now.
I heard it immediately, the way she retreated instead of arguing back, and something in my chest tightened at the familiar shift.
“Get some rest. I’ll try to catch a little sleep before I head back to the site,” I said, keeping my tone even before ending the call.
And the moment the screen went dark, the anger drained and guilt settled in—quiet, heavy, and impossible to ignore—because beneath all of it was fear: fear of being replaced, fear that my absence was giving someone else room to stand where I once did, and the bitter clarity that I had no one to blame but myself, because I’d created it and handed it to myself the night I broke her.
Now I had to live with it.
— ? —
Elena
After he ended the call, I stared at the screen for a moment.
Was Adrian actually jealous of Harley?
He’d never had an issue with any of my male coworkers before, so why did his reaction seem so excessive this time? Did he really think I would so easily lower myself and turn to another man the way he once had with Phoebe?
Anger flared in my chest. What right did he have to accuse me of something I hadn’t even done? Did he think that just because he cheated, I would eventually do the same?
I pushed myself off the bed and walked to the bathroom, splashing cold water onto my face just to clear my head. The cold stung against my palms, sharp enough to ground me.
He had no right.
Not after everything.
Not after what he had done.
I wasn’t the one who crossed a line. I wasn’t the one who betrayed vows, trust, and safety. And yet somehow, I was the one being questioned. Managed. Told what to do next time, like I was careless. Like I couldn’t be trusted with my own boundaries.
A few moments passed, enough time for the familiar quiet of the morning to shift, the kind that always came right before Haille woke up. I checked the baby monitor and saw that she was already stirring.
By the time I reached her room, she was sitting up in her crib, curls messy, eyes still heavy with sleep. The moment she saw me, her face lit up.
“Mommy,” she said again, reaching for me.
I lifted her into my arms, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”
She tucked her face into my shoulder for a moment, then pulled back, alert now. “Hungry.”
“I figured,” I smiled.
I changed her, dressed her in leggings and a soft T-shirt, and carried her to the kitchen. Morning light filtered through the windows, warm and quiet.
Breakfast was simple. Scrambled eggs. Toast cut into uneven squares. Strawberries sliced small enough for little hands. A small cup of milk beside her plate.
Haille sat in her chair, humming softly to herself as she ate, one strawberry at a time, milk dripping onto her fingers. I wiped her hands between bites, watching her with a tenderness that grounded me more than anything else ever could.
When I opened the fridge to put the milk back, I noticed how empty it was. The milk carton was nearly finished. The produce drawer was bare. There was no protein left except for a sad pack of chicken I’d forgotten to freeze.
I looked down at Haille. “Do you want to go grocery shopping with Mommy?” I asked.
Her head snapped up immediately. “Yes, Mommy!”
I smiled, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. “Alright, sweetheart. We’ll buy your favorite snacks too, okay?”
“Yay! Thank you, Mommy,” Haille said happily.
— ? —
The store was busy but calm, that late-morning lull where parents with kids and retirees shared the aisles. I navigated slowly, tossing familiar items into the cart. Yogurt. Eggs. Chicken breasts. Vegetables. Snacks for Haille.
I was reaching for a carton of milk when a familiar voice spoke behind me.
“Elena?”
I turned.
Astrid stood there with a reusable bag slung over her shoulder, William beside her, one hand on the shopping cart, already half-full.
“Oh,” I blinked. “Hey.”
Astrid smiled warmly. “I didn’t expect to run into you here.”
“Same,” I said lightly. “Just doing groceries.”
William nodded once. “It’s been a while. Adrian’s out of town, right?”
“Yes,” I replied. “He’ll probably be back this Friday.”
Astrid’s gaze dropped to Haille, her expression softening instantly. She crouched slightly to Haille’s level and smiled.
“Look at you,” she said gently. “You’re getting so big.”
Haille blinked at her, then smiled shyly.
“Hi,” Astrid said gently.
“Hi,” Haille echoed.
Astrid straightened and looked back at me. “How are you holding up?” she asked quietly.
“I’m okay,” I said. “Busy with work and this little beauty.” I smiled, glancing down at Haille.
Astrid nodded. “If you ever need anything,” she said gently, “just let us know. We’re friends.”
“Yeah, thank you,” I replied.
William shifted his grip on the cart. “We’re hosting lunch this weekend since Jeremy’s in town,” he added. “No pressure. Just thought I’d mention it.”
I smiled faintly. “Thanks. I’ll see how it goes once Adrian’s back.”
After a few more polite exchanges, we parted ways. As I walked toward the checkout, Haille started humming softly again, her small hand gripping the edge of the cart.
Truthfully, over the past two years, I hadn’t reached out to Astrid much. It wasn’t deliberate at first. It just... happened.
After everything fell apart, I turned inward. Because every time I saw Astrid after that, I felt exposed. Seen too clearly. Like she remembered me at my weakest, clutching betrayal in both hands.
And every time I was around them, it felt like I carried his betrayal on my back, as if they knew exactly where the cracks were, even when they never mentioned them.
Seeing Astrid just now reminded me of that distance. Of how small my world had become without me fully realizing it.
I was just tired of being the woman everyone tiptoed around.
And maybe, without meaning to, I chose isolation because it felt like the only thing I could still control.