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Sarah POVWeekend EveningThe apartment smelled like lavender baby lotion and cardamom tea, the comfortable mix of motherhood and my stolen moments of peace.It was Saturday. Soft, Unhurried.Gabriel had finally gone down for his late nap, and I had the rare luxury of curling up on the couch with a worn novel and ten blessed minutes of stillness.Until the doorbell rang.I blinked, frowning. I wasn’t expecting anyone.I tiptoed to the door, my robe hanging loosely over my tank top and leggings. I automatically tightened my hold as soon as I realized who was on the other side.Adrian.Wearing slacks and a white button-down shirt, he stood there with a box of what appeared to be dubious pastries. His hair was a bit too groomed and blown about for someone who was just stopping over.“Hi,” he said smoothly. “I was in the area. Thought I’d stop by. Brought something sweet for Gabriel.”I hesitated for a beat. “He’s asleep.”Adrian’s smile didn’t falter. “Then it can wait till he wakes up.

Sarah’s POVTuesday | Around 6:30 PMThe city had started softening into dusk, the skyline fading into that familiar lavender haze as I guided Gabriel’s stroller through the park. Autumn had painted everything in gold and fire, leaves crunching under my sneakers, air cool and sharp with the promise of evening. Around me, life pulsed with ease: couples huddled on benches, teenagers passed earbuds between them, and fathers pushed swings or chased behind their wobbling toddlers.I slowed by a fountain where a little boy, maybe Gabriel’s age, was lifted into the air by his father, his laughter spilling out like music.Something inside me clenched. That used to be a dream of mine. Not the fantasy version of family, but the quiet kind. The reliable kind. A man who stayed. Who didn’t disappear the moment things became inconvenient or uncertain?Gabriel cooed softly beneath his blanket, chewing the edge of his stuffed lion, his small face sleepy and sunlit. I bent to kiss his forehead, brushi

Sarah’s POVFriday Evening | 7:45 PMThe skyline glittered like cut glass, sharp and indulgent, as I pulled into the private driveway of Alessandro’s penthouse. The security guards at the entry recognised me, of course they did, and waved me through without speaking. My driver, James, parked the sleek black car at the door and stared at me in the rearview mirror, interested but professional.“I won’t be long,” I said quietly, gathering the bag beside me.He nodded. “Text if you need anything, ma’am.”Ma’am.God, I hated how that word suddenly made me feel old tonight. Like I was decades beyond the hopeful girl who once believed love was enough.I emerged, heels tapping on the shiny marble entrance, and rearranged the cream wool coat over my shoulders. The air was sharp and metropolitan, yet I felt warm from the burden of what I held, both emotionally and physicallyInside the sleek elevator, silence wrapped around me again. I glanced at the bag in my hand, a sleek matte-black tote fro

Sarah's POVSaturday Afternoon | 4:10 PMBy the time I pulled into the underground parking of Alessandro’s building, the sky was a gentle grey. One of those overcast afternoons that felt quiet and oddly intimate. The kind of day that made you want to curl under a blanket, sip something warm, and allow tenderness in.Gabriel was at home with Ester, who had promised to keep him entertained and away from teething misery. I had left behind a little note, just in case I didn’t have the nerve to say the truth out loud later.I told myself I was here for something simple: to check on Alessandro. To bring soup, an elegant chicken velouté I made this morning with tarragon and white pepper. A quiet way to ask, “Are you okay?” without using the words.But I would be lying if I said I wasn’t also here for myself. Because something inside me had shifted since yesterday. Something that whispered, maybe I was ready to lower the walls. At least a little. I got out of the elevator and entered the cor

Sarah’s POVThe week had passed in a blur of deadlines, meetings, and the kind of focused, mechanical energy that only came from deliberately drowning emotions under work. Every morning, I got up before the sun rose, fed Gabriel, dressed him in his onesie with the tiny stars, and passed him off to the nanny with the kind of smile that said, “We’re doing fine.”By Friday afternoon, I was back in the boardroom, defending a marketing pivot against a room full of tired, under-caffeinated executives. The previous day, I had met Alessandro for a project review at the firm’s downtown office. He was doing better now.We were professional. We were polite. It wasn't very comforting how well we danced around the unspoken truth.Not a word about that night. Or the breakfast. Or anything about the past.Ester had caught me staring into my coffee one morning like it held all the answers. “You’re not talking about him, but you’re not over him either,” she said.I didn’t answer.Because she was right