Chapter 14
Corine
The glare of my phone screen illuminated the dark room, casting eerie shadows on the walls as I scrolled through headline after headline. Each one was worse than the last.
CORINNE WOODS SUFFERS ANOTHER PSYCHOTIC EPISODE AT LAUNCH PARTY.
IS CORINNE WOODS FIT TO RUN A BEAUTY EMPIRE?
MODEL TURNED ENTREPRENEUR LOSING HER GRIP ON REALITY?
My chest tightened, and I felt the all-too-familiar sensation of suffocation creep up on me.
I tossed the phone onto the bed, burying my face in my hands.
The accusations, the whispers, the scrutiny—they were all too much.
I had worked tirelessly to build a career, to prove I was more than my mental illness, and yet, here I was, reduced to nothing more than a headline meant to entertain the masses.
At least my business hadn’t suffered.
My stocks hadn’t plummeted, and my loyal customers were still buying my products.
And, surprisingly, Allen had managed to have some of the most damning allegations scrubbed from the internet.
I should have been grateful, but the damage was already done. I could feel it—the slipping.
The psychosis had always been lurking in the background, a shadow waiting for the perfect moment to consume me.
Lately, I’d been locking myself in my room when the episodes felt near, allowing them to pass before facing the world again.
Allen was always absent anyway, and when he was home, his silence was unbearable.
Instead of confronting him, I poured myself into my son.
Kyle was my escape.
Every time I held him, I felt grounded, tethered to reality by his tiny arms wrapped around my neck.
“Mommy! Up!” Kyle squealed, tugging on my sleeve. His golden curls bounced as he attempted to climb onto the bed, his small hands gripping the sheets.
I let out a soft laugh and scooped him into my arms, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You’re getting so big,” I murmured against his soft skin.
He giggled, his bright blue eyes sparkling. “Mommy, play!”
I smiled, placing him on the floor as he ran to grab his favorite stuffed lion. He shoved it toward me with a determined look. “Roar, Mommy!”
I took the plush toy and made the most dramatic roar I could muster. Kyle shrieked in delight, clapping his tiny hands. In these moments, everything felt normal. No accusations. No coldness from Allen. Just me and my son, wrapped in the safety of our little world.
---
Months passed, and the growing weight in my stomach made it difficult to move with the same ease I once had. The distance between Allen and me had only widened. His touches were rare, and when they came, they lacked warmth. They weren’t for me. He sought his own pleasure, his own release, leaving me feeling emptier than before.
I stopped trying to reach him. I stopped asking him to sit with me at night, stopped trying to pull him into conversations. Instead, I focused on preparing for the arrival of my baby girl.
And then, one cold evening, as I sat curled up on the couch with Kyle nestled against my belly, the first sharp pain tore through me.
I gasped, gripping the couch cushion. Kyle looked up at me, his little face scrunched in confusion. “Mommy?”
Another wave of pain hit me, stronger this time. My breath hitched as I struggled to push myself up. “Baby, go get Nana,” I whispered, trying to keep my voice steady.
Kyle’s eyes widened before he scampered off down the hallway. Moments later, my mother rushed in, her face filled with concern. “Corinne?”
“The baby,” I managed between breaths. “She’s coming.”
---
The hospital room was a blur of movement, bright lights, and voices urging me to push. My body trembled, sweat clinging to my skin as I gritted my teeth. The pain was unbearable, but I held onto one thought—I had to bring her into this world.
Allen was there, standing stiffly beside me, his fingers gripping mine. At first, his touch felt hesitant, uncertain, but as my cries of pain grew louder, his grip tightened. He whispered encouragements, his voice raw, filled with an emotion I hadn't heard in a long time.
“One more push, Corinne! You’re almost there!” the doctor urged.
With one final, agonizing cry, I bore down, and then—silence. A second later, a sharp wail filled the air, and tears spilled down my cheeks.
“She’s here,” someone announced.
My chest heaved as I watched them place my baby girl on my chest. She was so tiny, her delicate features scrunched in protest at the cold air. I traced a trembling finger down her cheek, my heart swelling. “Astrid Raya Woods,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “My beautiful girl.”
A sob broke the silence beside me. I turned, startled, to see Allen wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. His shoulders shook as he exhaled a ragged breath, his gaze locked onto our daughter.
“She’s perfect,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “God, Corinne, she’s perfect.”
I had never seen Allen cry before. Not at our wedding, not even when Kyle was born. But here he was, completely undone, his walls shattering in the presence of his daughter. For the first time in a long time, he looked at me—not with indifference, not with exhaustion, but with something real. Something raw.
He reached out, his large hand trembling as he cupped Astrid’s tiny head. She let out a soft coo, and Allen let out a breathless laugh, as if he couldn’t believe she was real. He pressed his lips against her forehead, his tears falling freely now.
In that moment, everything was forgotten. The silence, the distance, the cold nights spent apart. For just a fleeting second, we were a family again.
But reality had a way of creeping back in. And as I watched Allen cradle our daughter like she was the most precious thing in the world, a part of me wondered—was this a new beginning, or just a beautiful moment before the inevitable fall?