CHAPTER 28
Adrian
The house was too quiet.
There were no small footsteps running down the hallway. No sound of Haille’s laughter echoing through the house even before the door fully closed. No Elena in the kitchen, no half-finished glass left on the table, no light jacket draped over the back of a chair.
Just empty space.
I came home later than usual. Not because work truly demanded it, but because I didn’t know what to do in a house that no longer felt like home. At the office, at least there were lights on, computer screens, the hum of the air conditioner, and a legitimate excuse not to think about anything.
The first day, I stayed until nearly midnight.
On the second day, my mother called. “Adrian, have you had dinner?” she asked. “If not, come by.”
I agreed without thinking.
The drive to my mother’s house felt short. Roads I’d known since my teenage years now felt unfamiliar, as if I were driving on autopilot. When I arrived, the smell of food greeted me immediately, warm, familiar, and somehow painful.
We ate at the dining table like we always did.
My mother looked at me a few times before finally speaking. “I was a bit surprised,” she said quietly, “when Elena told me she and Haille were going to Florida on their own.”
I nodded, keeping my focus on the plate in front of me. “Yeah.”
“You shouldn’t keep yourself so busy, Adrian,” she continued, her tone not accusatory, just worried. “Can’t you take any time off? A family vacation?”
I took a short breath. “There’s a lot of work right now. The workload’s heavy. And... Elena’s leave was sudden.”
My mother nodded slowly. Too slowly. Her gaze didn’t quiet believe me, but she didn’t ask any more questions.
Two hours later, the front door opened and Avery stepped in, dropping her bag by the door.
“Hey,” she greeted casually when she saw me sitting on the couch, the TV on.
“Where were you?” I asked.
“Training,” she replied. “I’m working on a new rating.”
I nodded. I didn’t ask anything else.
Avery sat down beside me. We watched without really watching. The screen was on, the sound filling the room, but our minds were clearly somewhere else.
“I need to tell Mom,” I said eventually. “She’s already suspicious… but—”
Avery turned toward me, then without warning pulled me into a hug. Her grip was firm, without hesitation.
She patted my back gently. “I’m here,” she said simply. “If you need me, I’m here.”
My chest tightened.
I stood and walked toward the kitchen. My mother was clearing the dishes. I stopped in the doorway.
“Mom... can we talk?” My voice sounded heavier than I expected.
She turned, furrowed her brow, then wiped her hands on her apron before taking it off.
“Okay,” she said. “What’s going on?”
“In the living room.”
I walked ahead and sat back down on the couch beside Avery.
My mother took the armchair across from us. She looked at both of us.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, confused. “Why do you both look so tense?”
I steadied myself before speaking. “I cheated on Elena.”
My mother froze. “What?”
“Elena isn’t gone for a vacation,” I continued, my voice flat even as my chest burned. “She needs time to think about our marriage.”
She stood up. “Oh my God…” She paced briefly, her voice trembling, then sat back down. “I don’t believe this. You’re not joking, are you?”
I stayed silent.
“My son?” Her voice rose. “The one I raised properly? Doing something like that?”
Her hand trembled in her lap, as if her body needed time to process what her mind had just heard. “I... don’t understand,” she said quietly, almost to herself. “I truly don’t.”
She looked at me again, this time holding my gaze longer. There was no anger in her eyes yet, only disappointment. And somehow, that hurt far more.
“We didn’t raise you to be perfect,” she continued, her voice calm but cutting. “But we raised you to be honest. To be accountable. To know where the line is.”
She shook her head slowly. “What you did wasn’t just a mistake, Adrian. It was a choice. One you made knowingly.”
I didn’t defend myself. I couldn’t.
“With who?” she demanded. “Someone from your office? Someone you met on a project?”
I hesitated for a moment. “Someone from college.”
Her eyes widened in disbelief. “What? Did William and Astrid know about this?”
“They found out after it happened,” I said.
Her voice rose. “Who is she, Adrian?”
“Phoebe,” I answered, the name sitting heavy on my tongue.
My mother went still. “Phoebe…” she repeated, searching her memory. “Who is this Phoebe? I’ve never heard you mention her.”
I exhaled quietly. “We weren’t close. Just someone I knew back then.”
“The past,” she said quietly. “You went back to the past when you should have been building a future.”
Her breath hitched. “God, Adrian… what were you thinking? Why would you do that?”
She shook her head slowly, disbelief and pain mixing in her voice. “You chose Elena. You made her your wife. That should have anchored you. That should have been enough.”
Then she turned toward Avery, who had remained silent. “You knew about this, Avery?” she asked, her voice breaking.
Avery nodded slowly.
My mother closed her eyes, tears finally spilling over. “How long?” she asked, opening them again, now looking at me. “And since when?”
“When Elena was pregnant,” I said quietly. “It didn’t last long. Less than a year.”
Her face broke.
“While she was pregnant?” she repeated slowly, as if testing whether the words were real “Adrian... as your mother, and as a woman... I don’t even know how to respond to that.”
She covered her face briefly, then lowered her hands, her eyes red but sharp.
“Elena carried this alone,” she said, her voice barely holding. “At the most vulnerable time of her life.”
She shook her head again. “I treat patients every day. I know exactly what stress and betrayal can do to a pregnant woman’s body.”
Her voice cracked for the first time. “And you let her go through that alone.”
She drew in a deep breath, forcing herself to steady. “If I had known back then...” her voice trailed off. “If I had known...” She didn’t finish the sentence, but in my mother’s eyes, I saw more than anger. I saw guilt.
I remained silent. I didn’t defend myself. I didn’t deny it. There was nothing I could say to justify it. Nothing that would soften it. Because everything she felt—disappointment, anger, grief—was something I should have faced from the beginning.
It showed me just how deep the wound I’d left behind really was.
— ? —
Elena
Florida felt different when I woke up.
Not like a destination. Not like a temporary escape. But like something familiar I had once left behind and quietly grown into without me noticing.
I slipped out of bed before the house fully stirred, changed into my running clothes, and stepped outside while the sky was still pale—soft shades of blue melting slowly into gold. The air was warm, salty, and alive in a way that felt gentle instead of demanding.
I ran along the shoreline with no pace to beat, no numbers to track, no voice in my head telling me to hurry. Just the rhythm of my feet against the sand, the sound of waves rolling in and retreating again, and my own breathing finally settling into something steady.
When I stopped, I didn’t check the time.
I walked closer to the water and sat down, knees pulled in slightly, letting the breeze brush against my skin while the sun climbed higher. The ocean stretched endlessly in front of me, calm and unbothered, like it had no memory of what I had been carrying for years.
Here, I wasn’t someone’s wife trying to hold a marriage together. I wasn’t a mother balancing schedules, guilt, and responsibility. I wasn’t even a woman trying to survive something. I was just... Elena.
When I finally returned home, the house was already alive.
Haille’s laughter echoed from the living room, bright and unrestrained, the kind that came from pure excitement rather than polite joy.
She was clean, fed, and completely absorbed in whatever game she was playing with my father who was crouched on the floor with her, dramatically pretending to lose every round.
I leaned against the doorway for a moment, watching them.
Haille spotted me first. “Mommy!” she called, waving enthusiastically before immediately turning back to my father, demanding, “Again!”
My father laughed, already surrendering. “Okay, okay—again.”
I smiled, warmth spreading quietly through my chest.
My mother sat nearby, knitting needles moving with calm precision, her posture relaxed, her expression peaceful. I walked over and sat beside her, watching her hands for a moment before signing.
“What are you making?”
She looked up, her eyes soft, and signed back with a small smile.
“Scarves. One for you, one for Haille. I hope I can finish them before you go back.”
Something tightened gently in my throat. I smiled and signed, “Thank you, Mom.”
Then I gestured upward. “I’m going to shower.”
She nodded.
Before heading upstairs, I bent down and kissed Haille’s cheek quickly. She barely noticed, too busy laughing as my father lifted her dramatically into the air like she was flying.
I walked up to my old bedroom, the one I hadn’t slept in for years.
When I stepped inside, it felt like opening a time capsule.
The walls were still decorated with posters of bands I no longer listened to, their edges slightly curled with age.
Photos were pinned haphazardly beside an old cork-board—snapshots of me and my friends, grinning wildly, arms slung around each other like the world hadn’t yet taught us how heavy things could become.
I walked closer and looked at them one by one.
In every photo, I was smiling.
Not a careful smile. Not a polite one. A real one.
After showering, wrapped in a towel, I stood there for a moment longer, letting the steam fade, letting myself remember who that girl had been—before roles, before expectations, before pain learned how to live quietly inside me.
Later, while Haille bounced around the living room again, I asked her if she wanted to go to the mall. Her eyes lit up instantly.
“Mall!”
My father glanced up at me. “You’re meeting Lizzie later, right?”
Lizzie had been my closest friend back in school. Running into her at the airport when I arrived had been pure coincidence, one of those unexpected moments that felt like a quiet gift.
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“I’ll take Haille out,” he said easily. “You should go. Spend some time with your friend.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Of course. I don’t get to see her like this often. I’m not wasting the chance.” He crouched down in front of Haille, “do you want to go to the park with Papa?”
Her entire face brightened. “Slideee!”
He laughed. “Okay. Slides and swings.”
I kissed Haille again, longer this time, then grabbed the car keys.
Driving to the mall felt strange. The roads were familiar, but the buildings had changed. Stores I used to love were gone, replaced by names I didn’t recognize. The place felt slightly foreign, like a memory that had continued without me.
Then my phone rang.
“I’m here!” Lizzie said cheerfully.
We met at a coffee shop near the center of the mall, and I froze when I saw her.
And Alicia.
“What—” I laughed, disbelief slipping out before anything else.
They both grinned and pulled me into a tight hug, the three of us collapsing together like no time had passed at all.
We talked. God, we talked. About how long it had been. About how rare it was for me to come back. About life.
Then we drifted back into memories—debate competitions, academic Olympiads, the ridiculous pressure we put on ourselves to be perfect students, and the boys we used to have crushes on back then. The popular ones. The quarterback. The one teacher who terrified all of us.
I laughed until my cheeks hurt.
When we finally parted, Lizzie squeezed my hand. “We’re meeting again, okay? While you’re here.”
“I’d like that,” I said, meaning it.
Driving home, something felt lighter.
Not fixed. Not healed.
But lighter.
Coming back here wasn’t a mistake. It was a reminder. That somewhere beneath everything I had survived, I was still here, waiting patiently to be found again.