All Chapters of WORSHIPPED BY MY DAD'S BESTFRIEND : Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

SAESHA POV It took forever. Elian screamed like we’d abandoned him to the wolves. He kicked, twisted, and finally — finally — fell asleep after yanking half my hair out and pulling at my robe until it almost ripped. My head throbbed, my chest was damp from his tears, and my whole body ached. I shut the nursery door as quietly as possible, my eyes burning, muttering under my breath. “Little monster. Sweet, adorable monster, but still a monster.” When I walked into our bedroom, Alex was exactly where I’d left him. Laptop open. Papers scattered. Shirtless, glasses sliding down his nose, his attention locked on work. Not on me. I froze in the doorway, my irritation boiling over. “Glad you enjoyed your break,” I snapped. He didn’t look up. “I had things to finish.” I gawked. “Things to finish? Alex, your son just screamed for an hour straight, and all I got was silence from you!” His jaw flexed, but his eyes stayed on the screen. “You handle him better when he’s like that. He

SAESHA POV My hands were shaking so hard I nearly dropped him. Elian clung to me, his tiny fists knotted in my hair, his cries breaking against my chest. I pressed kisses to his damp cheeks, whispering again and again. “It’s okay, baby. Mama’s here. Mama’s always here.” But my own voice cracked, the tears hot and endless. Alex sat at his desk, head bent back over the laptop, as if nothing had happened. As if his son hadn’t just screamed himself raw. As if his wife wasn’t standing there shattered. Something in me snapped. “Fine,” I choked, clutching Elian tighter. “If your work is more important, then keep it. We’re not staying here to be ignored.” No answer. My stomach twisted. My breath hitched. I waited for the familiar sound — his chair scraping back, his footsteps pounding after me, his hand catching my wrist like always. But nothing came. So I moved. I stomped out, Elian pressed against me, his sobs muffled in my robe. My bare feet slapped the hallway, m

SAESHA POV The house was too quiet. Clara had left an hour ago for an emergency call at her clinic. She’d kissed my cheek, stroked Elian’s hair, and told me she’d be back soon. I’d smiled weakly, lying that we’d be fine. We weren’t fine. I carried Elian into the kitchen, balancing him on my hip while fumbling for his teething toys. He squirmed, whining, reaching for the counter. “Patience, little bean,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to his curls. “Mama’s here.” I turned for just a second — to grab a cold teether from the fridge, to wipe my tears on the sleeve of my robe. And when I turned back, he was gone. “Elian?” The sound came then — the soft scrape of crawling. The thud of tiny hands on wood. My stomach dropped. “No. No, no, no.” He had crawled straight to the stairs. “Baby, wait!” I screamed, lunging forward. Too late. The slip was small, but it felt like the world shattered in that single second. His little body tumbled forward, his head colliding with the sharp

SAESHA POV The doctor’s words should’ve been relief. “He’s stable now. You can go in to see him soon.” My knees nearly gave out. Relief burst like a sob in my throat — my baby, my Elian, was alive. But before I could breathe, before I could cling to that mercy, I heard his footsteps. Heavy. Fast. Alex stormed down the corridor, his shirt still half-open, the scent of another woman still clinging to him. His eyes were dark, storming, his fists clenched. And everything inside me snapped. “You don’t get to come in here,” I spat, stepping forward, blocking his path. “You don’t get to look at him now after you ignored him when he needed you!” His jaw flexed. “Move, Saesha.” “No!” My voice cracked into a scream. “You don’t deserve to see him!” He shoved past, his shoulder colliding into mine hard enough to sting. My palm shot out, slamming into his chest, pushing him back. “Don’t you dare—” He grabbed my wrist, yanking me forward, his breath hot against my face. “Do you want me

SAESHA POV The little room Clara decorated was warm with light and balloons. A single cake sat on the table, frosted in soft blue, a candle glowing in the middle. And there he was. My baby. My Elian. One year old. He clapped his chubby hands, giggling as the flame flickered. “Mama! Dada!” My chest ached. Four little teeth peeked out when he grinned, proud and excited to show them off. Alex sat beside him, a spoon in his hand. For once, his eyes weren’t bloodshot, his shirt wasn’t rumpled, his expression wasn’t cold. He looked like… Alex. My Alex. His lips curved in a smile as he scooped a tiny piece of cake, holding it out. “Open, buddy. Show Da-da those new teeth.” Elian leaned forward, his little mouth wide. “Aaah!” He bit down, his teeth sinking clumsily into the spoon. Drool dribbled down his chin as he chewed with exaggerated effort. Alex laughed — a real laugh, cracked but genuine. “Look at you. One-year-old and already showing off those sharp teeth. Gonna be trouble,