CHAPTER 26
Adrian
I stayed at the office long after everyone else had left.
Not because the work demanded it, most of it didn’t. The reports could wait. The emails could be answered tomorrow. But the building was quiet, and quiet felt easier than home, easier than walking into a house where I’d spent the last two days pretending distance was something I could control.
By the time I shut my laptop, it was past ten.
I drove home slowly. Too slowly.
When I pulled into the driveway, I didn’t turn off the engine right away, the headlights cutting across the garage door, bright and unforgiving, as I stayed there with my hands on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead.
Two days. That was how long I’d been avoiding her, not yelling, not fighting, just… stepping out of the room before words could turn into damage. Sleeping in the guest room. Coming home late.
I told myself it was restraint. The truth was simpler.
I was scared.
Scared that if I stayed too close, I’d keep gripping her out of fear. Scared that if I loosened my hold, she’d finally slip away.
I turned off the engine and stepped inside.
The house was quiet. Too quiet. No TV. No light spilling from the living room as I kicked off my shoes and moved through the hallway, keeping my steps controlled and deliberate.
The plan was simple. Grab clothes from the bedroom, take them to the guest room, and sleep there, keep the space, keep the distance.
I pushed the bedroom door open and saw Elena sitting on the bed, not lying down, not scrolling on her phone, just sitting there with her back straight, her hands resting loosely in her lap, the lamp on her side casting a soft light over her face as if she had been waiting.
Something tightened in my chest as our eyes met, and for a moment, neither of us spoke.
For a second, I considered backing out, pretending I hadn’t seen her, but I didn’t. I stepped inside anyway, my movements steady and unreadable, as if I hadn’t just been caught in the one place I’d been trying to avoid.
I walked toward the closet, her gaze heavy and quiet on my back, and reached for a T-shirt, then a pair of sweatpants, folding them with unnecessary precision before grabbing a clean work shirt for the morning. I told myself to keep it simple. In and out. No conversation.
Behind me, the mattress shifted.
Then I heard her stand. Her footsteps were soft but deliberate, closing the distance until I felt her presence just behind my shoulder.
“I need to talk.”
The words hit harder than any accusation ever could.
I closed the closet door slowly, took a breath through my nose, and turned to face her.
Up close, she looked tired. Not messy. Not broken. Just… worn thin in that controlled way she’d perfected over the years. The kind of exhaustion that didn’t beg for comfort. That scared me more than anger ever could.
“Yeah,” I said, setting the clothes on the nightstand.
She held my gaze. “About us.”
There it was.
I nodded once, jaw tightening. “Alright.” My voice came out calm. Low. Steady. It took effort to keep it that way.
Silence stretched between us again, thick with everything I hadn’t said and everything I was afraid she would.
“I’ve been avoiding you,” I said before she could speak again. I didn’t sugarcoat it. “That wasn’t an accident.”
Her lips parted slightly, but she didn’t interrupt.
“I needed space,” I continued. “Not because I don’t care. But because every time I open my mouth lately, I hear myself crossing lines I swore I wouldn’t cross again.”
Her eyes flickered at that.
“Are you even happy with me now, Elena?” I asked.
The words settled between us, heavy and unforgiving.
“I don’t want to cage you,” I said, firmer now.
My hands curled into fists at my sides. I unclenched them deliberately.
“But I’m not going to lie to you either,” I went on. “Letting you go terrifies the hell out of me.”
I took a step closer. Not crowding her, just closing the emotional distance enough that she’d know I wasn’t running.
“I’m trying to figure out how to release you without losing you,” I said quietly. “And I don’t have an answer yet.”
There was no break in my tone. Just truth.
“So if you’re about to tell me you’re done,” I added, meeting her eyes fully now, “say it. I won’t stop you.”
It took everything in me to stand there and mean it.
“I won’t chase you out of fear,” I finished. “But don’t mistake that for indifference.”
I fell silent, the room holding the weight of it. And for once, I didn’t move to fill the space.
She stayed silent for a moment, just staring at me.
Then she finally spoke. “Can I talk now?”
I nodded.
She took a slow breath before continuing.
“I know you’re trying for us,” she said quietly. “But I need time. Real time. And not the kind where you’re gone for weeks at a time.”
Her fingers tightened at her sides.
“I need to figure things out. About everything.”
She inhaled again, her breathing steadier now.
“You made a mistake back then,” she said, holding my gaze. “But what I’m doing now is hurting both of us as well.”
Her gaze didn’t waver.
“To be honest, at first I wanted to hurt you too,” she continued. “I wanted you to feel the same pain I felt.”
The words hit me harder than anything she could’ve shouted.
Did she hate me enough to want that?
And yet, if she did, it would’ve been easier for her to walk away completely. To let go of us without hesitation, without looking back.
Her voice softened. “But I’m exhausted. I don’t want to live like this forever.”
She took a slow breath. “I just need some time,” she said. “I want to take a few weeks off and stay with my parents. I’ll bring Haille with me.”
My chest tightened.
“And after that,” she continued calmly, “I’ll decide whether we can still be together… or not.”
I didn’t respond right away. It felt like something inside my chest was collapsing, not all at once but piece by piece, like an old structure finally giving in to its own weight.
Time.
It was the most reasonable request she could’ve made. And the most painful one. Because time meant I couldn’t do anything except wait. I couldn’t fix this with effort. I couldn’t make up for it with presence. I couldn’t control the outcome.
I nodded once, small. Even that single movement felt like it cost me more than I wanted to admit.
“Alright,” I said quietly. My voice didn’t shake, but my chest felt tight. “You have every right to ask for that.”
She was leaving. Taking our daughter. Putting distance between us.
And I knew I had no right to stop her.
“I won’t stop you,” I said. “And I won’t turn this into a punishment.”
There was a brief pause before I continued, more honest than I’d ever allowed myself to be. “This is the consequence of what I did. And I’ll carry it.”
My eyes burned, but I didn’t let the tears fall. Not because I wanted to look strong, but because this wasn’t about me. This was about acceptance.
“If you decide to leave in the end,” I said, holding her gaze, “I won’t blame you. I’ll only regret that I understood too late.”
My hands clenched briefly at my sides, then slowly relaxed, as if letting go of something I’d been holding onto for far too long.
“I love you, Elena,” I said quietly. “And this time… I want to love you right.”