Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
“I love her so much,” I tell him, my voice cracking. My face floods with heat because I’m standing in my best friend’s driveway, crying in front of her father, the same father she went years avoiding, telling him how much I love my daughter.
I’m a complete and utter mess right now.
“Come here.” Mr. Warner—I mean, Will, which he insists I call him, pulls me into a hug. His strong arms wrap around me, and for a few heartbeats, I allow myself the comfort before pulling back, wiping at my cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
“None of that. Come on.” He takes my hand in his, walks me around to the driver’s side door, and pulls it open for me. I plop down in the seat and smile up at him. “Thank you again.”
He nods. “Buckle up.”
I do as he says, and he nods, closing the door. He taps twice on the hood, and I slowly back out.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m pulling into the driveway of the small two-bedroom condo rental I’ve been living in since Ethan and I separated. He wanted the house, and I was happy to pack my things and leave. I didn’t want the memories. Most of them were lonely and depressing anyway. At least the most recent ones. I didn’t want to remember the nights spent alone, while he was cheating on me… when he claimed he was working on a big case, trying to make partner. Instead, he was replacing me.
Yeah, good riddance to the house and the memories that go with it.
I don’t know where we veered off course, but slowly, we drifted apart. I was hanging on to the love we had with both hands, blinded by my feelings for him, a love that he tarnished with his cheating and lies.
I stay in the car longer than necessary, hands resting on the steering wheel like it might steady me. This place still doesn’t feel like mine. It smells like cardboard and unfamiliar detergent, like something temporary, like I could disappear from it without leaving a mark.
Maybe that’s fitting. I feel temporary, too—like the life I planned slipped ahead without me, and I’m standing in the aftermath, blinking.
We were kids when we fell in love. Barefoot summers, whispered promises, the kind of certainty you only have before life teaches you how many ways things can break. Ethan was my constant, my always. I thought that was enough. I thought that history could carry us through anything.
I tell myself I should have let go sooner. That loving someone shouldn’t feel like begging them to stay. But love doesn’t leave politely. It clings. It hopes. It waits far too long.
Pulling my keys from the ignition, I grab everything I need before lifting Mia in her seat and making my way to the front door.
Inside, the house is quiet, and the loneliness presses against my chest. I drop my keys on the counter, and my eyes drift to the second bedroom, Mia’s room. The one I painted a soft pink, with my landlord’s approval, all on my own. The one with the crib I assembled alone, sitting cross-legged on the floor with the instructions spread out and tears blurring the words.
We were supposed to do that together. We were supposed to become parents together. Instead, I signed papers by myself, my name the only one on the line, my heart splitting open with joy and grief all at once.
Adopting alone wasn’t the plan, but neither was losing him.
I love my child with a fierceness that sometimes scares me. It’s the kind of love that sinks into your bones and rewrites you completely. Still, there are nights I ache for the version of my life where I wasn’t doing this solo. Where someone is next to me to share the fears and the joys of parenting. There’s pride in surviving this, yes, but there’s heartbreak, too, and it demands attention.
Placing Mia’s car seat on the living room floor, I smile as I watch her sleeping peacefully. My heart swells for this tiny human. This isn’t the life I imagined, but it’s the one I’m living. I’m learning how to carry both loss and love at the same time. Learning that some endings don’t mean failure. They just mean the story changed without asking permission.
My story is my daughter.
I don’t know what the future holds for us, but I know that I’ll love this little girl unconditionally. Together, we’ll be a family. We’ll write our own ending, a happy one for both of us.
Three
Will
* * *
I glance at the clock just as the dryer finishes its cycle. I’m babysitting my granddaughter tonight, and I washed all of her bedding. Yes, she has her own room here at my place, and I want her favorite blanket to be nice and fresh.
I can’t help but smile, and I’m sure I look like a fool, but I couldn’t give a single fuck about that. My daughter is back in my life, and with that comes my granddaughter. I know it’s not making up for the times I missed with Bellamy as she got older, but I’m doing things right this time. I’m not holding back, and I’m taking every opportunity that comes my way to be with my family.