The Boy With His Eyes.

~ Sophia ~

Eight months had passed since I left the Laurent Estate. The clock on the nightstand read 3:14 a.m. I sat in the rocking chair by the window, holding Ethan against my chest. His tiny fingers curled around my thumb. His breathing was soft and steady, the way it always was when he slept.

It had been three weeks since he was born. Three weeks since I held him for the first time. Three weeks since my whole world shifted into something I didn't recognize but couldn't imagine living without. The night he arrived was the hardest night of my life. I still remembered every second of it.

The pain started at two in the morning. I was alone in the apartment. I had called Julian, but he lived forty minutes away. The contractions came so fast, so hard, that I couldn't stand up. I crawled to the phone on the floor. My hand was shaking so badly I dropped it twice before I could dial the emergency number.

"I need an ambulance," I said into the receiver. "The baby is coming. Please hurry."

The ride to the hospital was a blur of white lights and sirens. The paramedic held my hand. She had kind eyes and kept telling me to breathe. I tried. I really tried. But the pain was like nothing I had ever felt before. It was deep and huge and it seemed to swallow everything else.

When we got to the hospital, everything moved fast. The doctors and nurses spoke in short, sharp sentences. I heard words like "complicated" and "emergency." I heard them say something about the baby's heart rate dropping.

"You need to push," the doctor said. "Sophia, look at me. You need to push now."

I pushed. It hurt so badly I couldn't even scream. My voice was stuck in my throat. All I could do was grip the sides of the bed and push harder and harder until my whole body felt like it was going to tear apart.

Then I heard it. A tiny, sharp cry. The most beautiful sound I had ever heard in my life.

The doctor lifted him up. He was small and red and covered in something white. His little arms flailed. His mouth was wide open as he cried.

"It's a boy," the doctor said. "A healthy, beautiful boy."

I reached for him. The nurse placed him on my chest. His skin was so warm against mine. He stopped crying the second he felt my heartbeat. His tiny fingers pressed against my collarbone. He opened his eyes for just a second. They were grey. Pale grey. The same grey as the man who had signed away our marriage without looking at me.

But I didn't think about that man when I looked at my son. I only saw Ethan. My Ethan. The boy who had come into the world fighting.

Now, in the quiet dark of the apartment, I held him closer. His hair was dark brown, just like mine. But his eyes were grey. Laurent eyes. I couldn't change that. I didn't want to change that. He was perfect exactly the way he was.

The apartment was small. Just one bedroom, a tiny kitchen, and a living room with a second-hand couch. But it was clean. It was safe. And it was ours.

I looked at the stack of documents on the kitchen table. Business registration papers. Bank statements. The final divorce decree that came through the past months. Sophia Reed. Sole director of Reed Capital. Single mother.

No father listed on the birth certificate. That choice had felt like a knife in my chest when I made it. But I had made it anyway. Because I needed to protect him. From the Laurent name. From Vivian's cold eyes. From Adrian's reaching hands.

I looked down at Ethan. His tiny chest rose and fell. His lips made little sucking motions in his sleep. He was so small. So completely dependent on me.

"I will never let them touch you," I whispered. "I promise."

The sun started to rise at six. Grey light crept through the thin curtains. I stood up slowly, careful not to wake Ethan, and carried him to the small crib I had set up beside my bed. I laid him down and tucked the blanket around his tiny body.

My phone buzzed on the counter. Julian. He had been texting every day since Ethan was born. Bringing food. Asking if I needed anything. Never pushing. Just waiting.

"Coffee?" his text read.

"Yes," I typed back. "Please."

He arrived an hour later with a paper bag of bagels and a large cup of coffee with milk and sugar. He set them on the counter and looked at the crib.

"He's sleeping?" Julian asked.

"For now," I said. "He was up every two hours last night. I think he's having a growth spurt."

Julian smiled. It was a warm smile. Not the kind of smile that made me feel like I owed him something. Just a smile.

"You look tired," he said.

"I am tired," I said. "But I'm also happy. Is that strange?"

"No," Julian said. "That's not strange at all. You have every right to be happy, Sophia."

We ate the bagels at the kitchen table. Julian didn't ask about Damien. He never did. He just talked about the business. Reed Capital had its first three clients. Small ones. But they were paying. We were actually making money.

"Your instincts are incredible," Julian said. "The Sutter brothers called again. They want to increase their investment."

"That's good," I said. "We need more capital if we want to expand."

"Take it slow," Julian said gently. "You just had a baby. You don't need to conquer the world tomorrow. Your body needs rest."

I looked at him. He was sitting across from me with his coffee cup in his hands. His face was calm, patient. He had never once made me feel like I was a burden.

"Julian," I said. "Why do you do this? Why do you help me so much?"

He didn't answer right away. He looked down at his coffee. Then he looked back up at me.

"Because I believe in you," he said. "Because you're the strongest person I've ever met. And because..." He paused. "Because you deserve to have someone in your corner. That's all."

I knew what he wasn't saying. I could see it in his eyes. But I didn't have the strength to think about that right now. I didn't have the room.

Ethan started crying from the crib. The cry was sharp and demanding. He was hungry again.

"Let me get him," I said.

I picked him up and sat down on the couch. I unbuttoned my shirt and let him nurse. It was strange how natural it felt now. Three weeks ago, I had been terrified of everything. Holding him. Feeding him. Bathing him. But now his small weight in my arms just felt right.

Julian watched for a moment. Then he looked away. He stood up and gathered the empty bagels. "I'll leave you to it," he said. "Call me if you need anything."

"Julian," I said. He turned at the door. "Thank you," I said. "For everything." He nodded once. "Always, Sophia."

He left. The door clicked shut. I was alone again with Ethan. I looked down at him. His small hand pressed against my skin. His eyes were still closed. He made a soft sucking sound.

"You have no idea what we survived," I whispered. "You were inside me when I walked out of that house. You felt my heart racing. You felt my fear. But we made it. We made it."

The morning light grew brighter. The apartment felt warmer. I sat there on the couch holding my son, and for the first time in years, I didn't feel invisible.

One week later, Julian came by with a new phone for me. My old one was cracked, he said. I should upgrade.

"Your contacts are all transferred," he said. "Everything is set up."

I turned on the new phone. A news app opened automatically. The top story was a quarterly earnings report for Laurent Technologies. Damien's photo was on the cover. He looked the same. Cold. Controlled. Untouchable.

I stared at his face for exactly five seconds. His grey eyes looked straight into the camera. The same eyes Ethan had.

My chest tightened. I remembered the night he had held me. The one night. The night that made Ethan possible. He had said he missed me. He had held me like I mattered. And then the next morning, he had called me a manipulative woman who planned to trap him with a baby. I turned the phone face-down on the table.

"Let's not worry about him tonight," I said to Ethan. He was on the blanket on the floor, kicking his tiny legs. "He doesn't know you exist. And for now, that's okay. You have me. You have Julian. You have everything you need."

I picked him up and held him close. His head rested against my shoulder. His small hand grabbed a fistful of my hair.

"I have you," I whispered. "And that's enough. That will always be enough."