Chapter Four
The soft chime of the café door rings as I step inside, holding Ethan’s small hand in mine. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries fills the air, and for a moment, the peaceful atmosphere calms the lingering tension in my chest from Olivia’s call yesterday.
“Mommy, can I have a chocolate croissant?” Ethan tugs on my sleeve, his bright eyes gleaming with excitement.
I smile, brushing a hand over his dark curls. “Of course, sweetheart. Go find us a table, and I’ll get it for you.”
He grins before rushing off to the corner booth, his favorite spot by the window. Sunlight streams through the glass, highlighting the softness of his features, so innocent and unaware of the storm quietly brewing in my mind. I turn toward the counter, reaching into my purse for my wallet, when suddenly—I feel it.
A presence.
It’s an odd sensation, one I haven’t experienced in years. My stomach twists into tight knots before I even lift my gaze. Somehow, I already know.
And when I do look up, the air leaves my lungs.
Ryan.
He’s standing a few feet away, frozen mid-step. His tall, powerful frame is clad in an expensive charcoal suit, the fabric tailored perfectly to his broad shoulders and lean physique. His sharp jaw tenses, and his striking hazel eyes—ones I used to drown in—widen in disbelief.
My pulse races, each heartbeat a loud echo in my ears. For a moment, neither of us moves. The noise of the café fades into the background, replaced by the deafening silence stretching between us.
His gaze flickers over me, taking in every detail, as if trying to convince himself that I’m real. But then—his eyes shift.
To Ethan.
The shock already etched into his features turns into something else entirely.
Confusion. Realization. And something deeper—something raw.
I see it in the way his throat works as he swallows hard, the way his fingers clench at his sides like he’s holding himself back from charging forward. His breathing becomes shallow, as if the sight of the little boy who shares his eyes has knocked the wind out of him.
No. No, no, no.
I can’t do this.
Panic grips me, my fingers curling tightly around my purse. Without another thought, I turn on my heel and rush toward Ethan.
“Come on, sweetheart,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “We’re leaving.”
“But, Mommy—” he protests, looking up with a confused pout.
“Now,” I whisper urgently, forcing a small smile to mask the urgency in my tone.
Ethan’s bottom lip trembles slightly, but he obeys, sliding out of the booth. I scoop him into my arms, pressing his small body close to mine as I make a beeline for the exit, my heart hammering violently.
Behind me, I hear movement. A sharp intake of breath.
And then—
“Emma.”
Ryan’s voice.
Deep. Rough. Laced with something unreadable.
The sound is both a painful reminder and a sharp knife twisting in my chest. I squeeze my eyes shut for half a second before pushing forward, stepping out into the open street. The fresh air stings my lungs as I inhale sharply, willing myself to keep moving, to block out the voice that haunted my dreams for years.
“Mommy?” Ethan’s voice is soft, confused. “Who was that man?”
I can’t answer. Not now. Not when my hands are trembling and my vision is blurred by unshed tears. I tighten my hold on him and start walking faster, the clicking of my boots on the pavement matching the frantic rhythm of my heartbeat.
But then I hear it again.
“Emma! Wait!”
His voice is louder this time, closer.
No, no, no.
I don’t look back.
I can’t.
Because if I do, I might see the truth written all over his face.
And I’m not ready for that.
Not now.
Not ever.
—
Later that night, after tucking Ethan into bed and reading him his favorite bedtime story twice just to keep my mind occupied, I finally collapse onto the worn couch in the living room. My body is still tense, my heart still fragile from the unexpected encounter.
I run a hand through my hair, exhaling shakily. I left the city for a reason. I built a life here, away from the memories, away from him.
But now, Ryan is back.
And worse—he’s seen Ethan.
My eyes flutter shut as the past comes rushing back like a relentless tide. The love we shared, the promises we made, and the devastation that followed. The humiliation of being discarded so easily. The pain of raising a child alone, always wondering why I wasn’t enough for him to stay.
I thought I had buried those memories. But today proved how easily they could resurface.
The soft buzz of my phone startles me from my thoughts. I reach for it, expecting Olivia’s name, but instead—
Unknown Number.
My heart stutters.
I hesitate for a moment before swiping to open the message.
Emma. Please. We need to talk.
I stare at the screen, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. A thousand things swirl in my mind, none of them coherent. Finally, I take a deep breath and type a single word.
No.
I hit send before I can second-guess myself and immediately block the number.
It’s better this way.
It has to be.
