Chapter Five: A Life Of My Own

Elisa’s POV

Two days later, I sat at Julian’s dining table with a borrowed laptop open in front of me.

Morning light came through the tall windows. Julian had left for work about an hour earlier, but not before making me another cup of coffee and giving me the password for the guest Wi-Fi. He hadn't asked what I planned to do that day. I think he understood that I needed something to keep me busy.

I started with my old email accounts, then moved on to the cloud storage I hadn't touched in years. Eventually, I found my architecture portfolio. I had barely looked at it since Eli was a toddler and Marcus's work kept taking up more and more of my time.

Some of the files wouldn't open. Others were still there, exactly as I'd left them. I spent a while going through the drawings, remembering the projects I'd worked on and the plans I'd made before I put my career aside.

By midday, I'd sent three messages.

One to the firm that had once offered me a junior partnership.

Another to a former colleague who now ran her own small studio.

The third was to the solicitor who had handled our marriage paperwork. I wanted copies of every document that still had my name on it.

I wasn't expecting anyone to get back to me straightaway. At least I'd made a start.

Julian came home earlier than usual. I was still at the table, my hair tied back, with notes scattered around the laptop. He put his keys down and glanced at the screen.

“You're working.”

“Trying to,” I said. “I've forgotten how much time this takes.”

He pulled out the chair opposite me. “Need any help?”

“Not yet, but thanks.”

That evening, we made dinner together. He took care of the stove while I chopped the vegetables. We didn't talk much about Marcus. By the time we sat down to eat, we'd moved to the coffee table with our plates rather than bother with the dining room.

“I spoke to my lawyer today,” I said. “About the shares and the trust.”

Julian nodded, waiting for me to continue.

“There's more left than I thought. Marcus never completed the paperwork to remove me. He probably assumed I'd never remember enough to check.”

“Then we use that,” Julian said.

I looked at him across the coffee table. We'd fallen into an easy routine over the past few days. I was still getting used to having someone around who didn't question every decision I made or expect me to explain myself.

Marcus called three days later.

I was on the phone with the owner of the studio that had replied to my email when his name appeared on my screen. I let it ring. Less than an hour later, he called again. When I ignored that one too, a message came through.

We need to talk. Properly. About Eli.

I read it twice before showing Julian that evening.

“He's testing the water,” Julian said. “He wants to see if you'll come running because he mentioned Eli.”

“I won't.”

“Good.”

The next morning, I met the studio owner, Lena, at a café near the river. She looked older than I remembered, with a sharper haircut and the same direct way of speaking. There was no awkward small talk once we'd ordered.

“You disappeared for years,” she said, looking at me across the table. “People assumed you'd decided to leave architecture behind for good. Have you really thought this through?”

“I have. I want to work again.”

She studied me for a few seconds before reaching for the folder beside her.

“There's a junior position on a residential project starting next month. Nothing particularly exciting, and the pay isn't great, but it would get you back into the work. The lead architect is good, too. Fair, and not difficult to work with.”

She pushed the folder towards me.

“If you're serious, come in on Monday. We can talk through the details.”

I left the café with the folder tucked under my arm. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt this good about something I'd done for myself.

Marcus was waiting outside Julian's building when I returned.

He stood near the entrance, his coat collar turned up and his expression tense. Eli wasn't with him. Neither was Sophia. As soon as he spotted me, he walked over.

“You've been ignoring my calls.”

“I've been busy.”

“Busy.” He gave a short, humourless laugh. “With Thorne, I assume.”

I didn't answer.

Marcus looked me over, his jaw tightening. “Eli keeps asking when you're coming home. I told him you needed more time to get better. How long do you plan to keep this up?”

“As long as I need to.”

“Elisa…” He lowered his voice. “This isn't you. Running off, moving in with my competitor, acting as if the last seven years meant nothing. You're better than this.”

I stared at him, hardly believing he had the nerve to say that to me.

“You stood in a hospital room and told our son I was a distant relative. You let him call another woman Mum while I was still trying to make sense of my own life. And you have the audacity to tell me what I'm better than?”

He looked as though I'd slapped him. For a second, he had nothing to say. Then his expression hardened again.

“You're making a mistake.”

“Maybe. But it's mine to make.”

I walked past him and went inside. He didn't follow.

That night, Julian found me on the sofa with the project folder open on my lap. He sat beside me, our shoulders touching.

“He was downstairs,” I said.

“I know. Security told me.”

I closed the folder and set it aside. “He's starting to feel it.”

Julian reached for my hand, his fingers slipping between mine.

“Good,” he said. “Let him.”

I rested my head against his shoulder and looked out towards the river. Marcus would probably spend the evening wondering what had changed, why I wasn't answering his calls or doing what he expected.

For once, I wasn't sitting around wondering what he was thinking. I had a job to prepare for, documents to go through and a son I needed to find a way back to.

There was still a lot to sort out, but at least I was no longer waiting for Marcus to decide what happened next.