جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 170

EVE'S POV I stood in Jessica’s kitchen at 7:15 in the morning, one hand pressed to the side of my belly while the other stirred a pot of oatmeal that I didn’t even want. Twenty-seven weeks. The doctor had said it at my last appointment, and the number still felt unreal. My belly was round and heavy now, stretching every shirt I owned, making my lower back ache by the end of the day. The baby kicked hard and often, little feet or elbows jabbing like he or she was trying to remind me I wasn’t alone in this mess. But some days I felt more alone than ever. It had been nine days since Damon asked me to leave our apartment. Nine days of sleeping in Jessica’s guest room, nine days of waking up reaching for him only to remember he wasn’t there. Nine days of radio silence. He hadn’t returned a single call. Not one text. Not even a “are you okay?” At first I was sad, heartbroken. I cried in the shower every morning so Jessica wouldn’t hear. I replayed his broken voice asking me to go, te

DAMON'S POV I sat in the therapist’s office feeling like a damn fraud. The room was nice... soft beige walls, big comfortable chairs, one of those fake plants in the corner that looked too perfect to be real. Dr. Lang was a middle-aged guy with a calm voice and kind eyes that made me want to spill my guts and run at the same time. I’d been coming for three sessions now, ever since Marcus basically dragged me here after I sent Eve away. Today felt different, heavier. “So,” Dr. Lang said, leaning back in his chair, “you told Sophia to stay out of your life for good. How did that feel?” I rubbed my hands on my jeans. They were still a little shaky. “Felt good in the moment. Like I finally slammed the door on all her bullshit. But then I went back to that empty penthouse and it hit me again... I’m the one who let her in in the first place. I’m the reason any of this happened.” Dr. Lang nodded slowly. “Tell me more about that guilt. You’ve mentioned feeling like two different men. W

EVE'S POV The coffee shop Marcus chose was quiet, tucked away in a corner of the city with soft lighting and private booths. I arrived first, heart hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat. Twenty-eight weeks pregnant now, my belly made it impossible to hide how far along I was. I kept one hand on it protectively as I slid into the booth, nerves twisting tighter with every minute that passed. I was still angry, the kind of deep, simmering anger that had replaced the sadness after days of silence. But I had agreed to this one meeting. One conversation. After that, I would decide what came next. When Damon walked in, my breath caught. He looked… wrecked. His eyes were tired, shadowed with dark circles, shoulders tense like he was carrying the weight of the world. He spotted me immediately and for a second, something raw and painful flashed across his face. He approached slowly, like he was afraid I might disappear if he moved too fast. “Eve,” he said softly as he sat do

EVE'S POV I sat on Jessica’s balcony with a cup of herbal tea that had gone cold ages ago, staring out at the city lights while my hand rested on my belly. Twenty-seven weeks. The baby was getting stronger every day, pushing and rolling like he or she was trying to remind me that life was still moving forward whether I was ready or not. But my heart? My heart felt stuck between two worlds.. one where I still loved Damon with everything in me, and another where the fear of being hurt again was almost paralyzing. The nursery he had created kept playing in my mind, the timeline of his mistakes written out so honestly. The letter, the way his voice had cracked when he told me he understood exactly how deeply he had broken me. It was beautiful, painful. and real. For the first time since he asked me to leave, I felt like he truly saw what he had done. And yet… I was terrified. What if it was just another grand gesture? What if the guilt wore off and the old patterns came back? What

EVE'S POV I woke up at 3:17 a.m. with a sharp, tightening pain low in my belly that didn’t feel like the usual Braxton Hicks. At twenty-eight weeks, I’d gotten used to the little aches and the baby’s strong kicks, but this was different. It wrapped around my middle like a band and made me suck in a sharp breath. I lay still for a minute, hand on my belly, waiting for it to pass. It did… but then another one came five minutes later. Stronger. “Shit,” I whispered into the dark room at Jessica’s place. My heart started racing. I reached for my phone on the nightstand, breathing through the next contraction. By the time the third one hit, I was scared, really scared. I called Jessica first. She was in my room in under a minute, still half-asleep but instantly alert when she saw my face. “How far apart?” she asked, already grabbing my hospital bag from the closet. “Four or five minutes,” I said, voice shaking. “This doesn’t feel right, Jess. It’s too early.” She helped me up, kept