CEO Dante; The one for me のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 41 - チャプター 50

Days went by and the stillness in the apartment still lingered. The kind that stretches time into something unfamiliar. Abigail was asleep in her crib, wrapped in a pink blanket with tiny clouds stitched into it. The soft rise and fall of her tiny chest, the sweet little sighs she makes in her dreams—they calmed me. But only for a moment, because beyond that door, Dante exists. And with him, all the tension we’ve both refused to speak of. It was like being on the edge of a cliff, knowing if either of us leaned in just a little more, we’d fall.We’d been dancing around each other like the sharp edges of broken glass—always too close, always too dangerous. Since we brought Abigail home, we’ve both busied ourselves with the newborn chaos: feedings, late-night cries, bottle warmers, burp cloths, diapers. But under it all, that thing between us—it hadn’t gone away. If anything, it’s deepened, quietly.This evening, I found a single mug in the sink—his. Still warm from the coffee he probabl

I’d finally gathered myself after the emotional chaos of the previous morning. Dante had kissed my forehead and left for work, quieter than usual but still soft around the edges. I knew the tension between him and Marcus was still simmering under his skin—and truthfully, it was still burning inside me too.As soon as the front door clicked shut behind him, I heard the subtle vibration of my phone from where it sat on the nightstand.I picked it up, expecting a check-in message from Dante.But no.Marcus: I shouldn’t have shown up like that. I’m sorry.I stared at the screen, my fingers tightening around the phone until my knuckles ached. I locked the screen, dropped it back down, and walked away.But five minutes later, another buzz.Marcus: Please, Sienna. Just one conversation. That’s all I’m asking.I ignored it again.Marcus: You look different. Happier. I noticed that right away. I’m glad for you... but I need to say some things.My chest tightened. I sank onto the edge of the be

I sat at the edge of the bed, staring at the sliver of moonlight bleeding through the curtains. The house was quiet—too quiet. Abigail had fallen asleep hours ago, clutching her new stuffed bunny, and Dante… Dante hadn’t said a word since dinner.Not even a glance, not a sigh, just silence. That heavy, choking kind that sits in your chest like lead.I turned slightly, hoping he might be watching from the doorway, or pretending not to, but the hall was empty. No footsteps, no tension in the air. Just this strange stillness that felt worse than any fight.I wasn’t sure when exactly he had stopped talking to me. Maybe it was when I walked through the front door after taking Abigail to see Marcus. Maybe it was the exact moment I told him the truth. Or maybe it was even before that—when I chose not to tell him about Marcus texting again.I thought honesty would help. That confessing everything would somehow soften the blow. But I guess some truths were still betrayals in disguise.Earlier

The kitchen was quiet, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional patter of Abigail’s tiny feet as she shuffled around with her toy bunny. Morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting warm streaks across the marble island, but it did little to thaw the chill between Dante and I.We hadn’t spoken much since that night. The one where he found out I’d taken Abigail to see Marcus again. The one that shattered the fragile understanding we had built after everything. Since then, Dante had been civil—cordial, even—but I knew the difference. He was keeping me at arm’s length, and I hated how familiar that felt.The doorbell rang just as I was wiping down Abigail’s highchair. She was still gnawing lazily on a soft silicone spoon, cheeks plump and sticky with the remnants of mashed bananas. Her tiny legs swung from the seat, totally unaware of the storm brewing in the air around her.I opened the door and was met by a delivery man holding a small brown box. He barely

The silence in the penthouse was deafening, a stark contrast to the chaos inside me. Days had gone by since our last real conversation. And by conversation, I meant the grumpy confrontation after I overheard Dante's conversation with his friend that left us both wounded in ways words couldn’t dress.I stood by the window, watching the city stretch beneath me like it didn’t know my world was crumbling. The skyline blinked and shimmered, unaware that in this very apartment, a family built on paper was unraveling for good. My fingers clutched the edge of the curtain tightly. It had become a sort of nervous habit—holding onto something, anything, so I wouldn’t fall apart completely.I was leaving.And this time, it wasn’t a threat or an emotional outburst. It was final. My decision. My choice. Not like it really mattered or changed anything, because whether I did or not, I would have to in two weeks. It had taken everything in me to even get to this point. For days I’d been packing up in