Page 31

SOPHIE

The apartment is too quiet.

Not peaceful, hollow. Like someone carved the heart out of the place and left the shell behind.

I lie on the bed, staring at the ceiling, Alessio’s absence pressing on me like an invisible weight. Heavy. Suffocating.

The city buzzes outside the window, sirens, drunken laughter, engines ripping down the avenue. All of it feels cruelly normal. Like the world kept spinning without asking if I was ready.

My hand slides instinctively over my stomach, the motion tender, protective already.

I’m not ready.

I thought I was strong enough to survive anything, career setbacks, heartbreak, betrayal.

But this?

Carrying a life inside me while the man who helped create it runs from the wreckage?

It’s a different kind of heavy. One that’s anchoring itself deep into my bones.

I squeeze my eyes shut, the ache in my chest growing sharper by the second.

He said he loved me.

He said he wanted this. Us.

But love doesn’t vanish when things get hard.

Love stays. Fights. Builds.

Alessio walked away.

And for the first time in a long time, I wonder if believing in him was my biggest mistake of all.

I replay the argument again and again, like a song stuck on the worst verse.

His face. His words. The fear hiding behind his eyes.

I don’t want to ruin your life.

Was that love? Or cowardice? The line between the two feels dangerously thin now.

I think of my mother, strong, grounded, full of quiet fire. The way she carried everything on her back while my father drifted further away, lost to his own selfishness.

"I won’t let that be my story," I whisper to the empty room, the promise curling into the air like smoke.

I grab my phone off the nightstand, my fingers hovering for a second before opening a message thread with Halie.

You up? I need you. Bad .

Halie:

Always up for you. What’s wrong?

I pause as tears prick my eyes again. I start texting back, fingers blurring, until my phone buzzes almost immediately

Halie’s name flashes across the screen just as my thumbs are still hovering mid-text.

I swipe to answer, barely managing a broken, "Hey."

"Hey, yourself," she says, voice sharp but softening. "What’s going on? You’re scaring me."

I press the heel of my hand against my forehead, trying to stay steady.

"I’m pregnant."

Silence. One beat. Two.

"Holy shit."

A weak laugh escapes me, brittle and painful. "Yeah. Holy shit."

"And Alessio...?"

I close my eyes.

It hurts more to say it out loud. "I told him. And he... he left."

"Holy shit. Want me to come over and punch him? I’ve got real boots on."

A shaky laugh escapes me. It feels foreign, jagged in my throat.

"Maybe. But also, maybe just talk me down from setting his clothes on fire."

"Tempting. Very tempting." She laughs. "But, Soph, that dumbass really loves you. Anyone with eyes can see it. The way he looks at you like you’re his entire damn gravity."

I press my hand against my heart like that might somehow soften the ache.

"Then why isn’t he here?" My voice cracks and breaks on the last word.

"Men are idiots under pressure. Especially the ones who never thought they'd get something good enough to lose. Besides, love’s not the problem. Fear is.”

I sniff, wiping at my face. "He told me he’s not built for this."

"Bullshit," Halie barks. "You’re both different now. You’re not the hard ass who pushed everyone away. And he’s not the careless asshole who couldn’t commit to a weekend plan, let alone a life. He just needs a bit of time to get his shit together.

And when he does, if he’s half the man you believe he is, he’ll come back stronger. For you. For the baby."

I hug my knees to my chest, curling into the smallest version of myself. "And if he doesn’t?"

"If he doesn’t? If he really is that stupid? We’ll get matching bat tattoos and raise your little badass together. Deal?”

Another broken laugh breaks free, this one warmer, healing in a way I didn’t expect.

"Deal."

"And for the record," she adds dryly, "if he doesn't come crawling back, I am still fully prepared to help you set his car on fire."

I smile through the tears. "Thanks, Hails."

"Anytime, Soph. Always."

We hang up, but her words linger like a hand holding mine in the dark.

The next morning, I jolt awake, heart racing.

For a second, in that half-dream haze, I think I hear the door open.

That maybe, maybe, he came back.

I sit up, listening hard.

Nothing. Just the empty, aching quiet.

The spot beside me in bed is still cold.

I almost reach for my phone to text him. To ask where he is. If he’s okay.

But my fingers freeze halfway there.

If he wanted to be here, he would be.

The thought slices clean through the hope still clinging to my chest.

Before I can spiral any further, my phone buzzes sharply against the nightstand.

E.

I swipe to answer, dragging the comforter tighter around me like armor.

"Hey."

"Hey, Sophie," E says, voice brisk but kind. "Just wanted to say the offer’s still on the table. Once this merger wraps up, there’s a senior partner seat with your name on it."

My throat tightens. I swallow hard.

"Thanks. That means a lot."

"It should. You’ve handled this mess better than anyone could. Honestly? You’re one of the best we’ve ever had. No one juggles fire like you."

I smile weakly, wishing I felt like the badass she’s describing

We chat for a few minutes, touching on the merger, the endless board meetings, and how "babysitting Alessio" was supposed to be the easy part of the deal.

"You holding up okay?" E asks, tone dipping softer.

"Yeah," I lie. "Just tired. A lot going on."

"Anything to do with Alessio?" she presses lightly, too lightly.

I hesitate, my fingers twisting in the hem of the blanket.

"Maybe," I say carefully. "He’s... complicated."

"Most men are," E says with a short laugh. "Especially the ones worth fighting for."

I blink at the words, thrown off.

It’s strange how much she’s prying. How invested she sounds.

But I brush it off. E is shrewd, motherly in her own way. Maybe she’s just trying to look out for me.

After a few more polite goodbyes, I end the call and set the phone on the nightstand.

And sit there, feeling like I’ve split clean down the middle.

The woman who finally clawed her way back to the career she nearly lost.

And the woman who might have fallen in love with a man who doesn’t know how to stay.

By the time I make it into the office for midmorning, the weight pressing down on me hasn’t lifted. If anything, it’s heavier.

My father is unusually quiet, his usual snark muted to polite nods and tired smiles.

Denver shoots me concerned glances from across the conference table, but I brush them off with tight smiles and vague shrugs.

I’m doing well at work. The merger is almost sealed. Investors are happy.

On paper, I’m winning.

Inside, I’m shattering.

I’ve been doing everything, proving myself, running crisis communications, surviving public scandals. Fighting for my future like it’s a war no one else even sees.

And now a baby.

A baby I’ll have to raise.

Alone.

Around noon, my phone buzzes again.

Alessio:

I’m sorry about last night. I panicked. No excuse. Just... I’ll be home later after my shift.

A second text follows before I can even process the first.

Alessio:

Also, I love you. Even when you’re probably plotting my murder. Especially then.

Despite myself, a tiny, reluctant chuckle escapes me.

Of course, he would text something like that.

Of course, he would know exactly how to punch a hole in my anger just enough to make me feel something other than hurt.

I stare at the screen for a long minute, thumb hovering over the keyboard.

I could forgive him too easily. I know myself.

So instead, I lock my phone and slide it back into my bag.

He’s coming home.

But he’s not getting off easy.

***

That night, after hours of pretending everything was fine, I sit cross-legged on the living room floor, sorting through old client files to keep my hands busy and my mind from unraveling.

The clock ticks steadily. The city hums outside.

Alessio should be home soon.

I tell myself not to look at the door.

Not to check the time again.

I’m halfway through an ancient folder of contracts when I notice it.

An envelope. Thin. Plain. Slid just barely under the door.

My stomach knots instantly.

I crawl toward it on numb knees, snatching it up with fingers that tremble before I even tear it open.

No stamp. No label.

Just one sentence scrawled across the page.

This is your last warning, lover boy

My breath whooshes out of my lungs in a single, sharp exhale. A chill skates down my spine, prickling every inch of my skin.

This isn’t over.

This was never over.

I shove the bolt lock into place, moving through the apartment room by room, checking every window, every door, every shadow.

When I finally sit by the window, clutching my phone in both hands, I type out a message to Alessio.

You need to tell me everything.

But I don’t send it.

Not yet.

Instead, I sit there, watching the streetlights flicker, the shadows shift.

And I wonder which one of them is coming for me next.