جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 200

Over the next two weeks, the penthouse became two completely separate worlds.During the day, Henry went to the office to finalize the Crestview contracts. Andrea stayed home with Sophie. In the evenings, when Henry came back, he would check on the baby, gently kiss Andrea if she let him, and then retreat to his study to give her space. Andrea would disappear into the nursery or the bedroom. They were living under the same roof, but they were miles apart.Tonight was no different. It was almost eleven o'clock, and the apartment was dead silent. Sophie had been asleep for hours. Henry sat at his desk, the light from his laptop screen the only illumination in the dark study as he cleared out a stack of unread emails.He didn’t hear Andrea approach until a soft, hesitant knock sounded against the door.Henry looked up, surprised. Andrea hadn't come to his study in months."Come in," he said quickly, closing his laptop.The door opened slowly. Andrea stood in the doorway, wearing an old s

The apartment was quiet after dinner. In the kitchen, Henry was drying the last of the dishes while Andrea sat at the island, staring at the small business card Dr. Foster had given her. Dr. James Chen, Psychiatrist.Henry noticed her silent fixate on the paper. He set the dish towel down and walked over, leaning against the counter beside her."Do you want me to call his office tomorrow morning?" Henry asked softly. "Or I can leave the room if you want to make the call yourself."Andrea traced the raised lettering on the card. "I'll call," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "I need to do it."She looked up at Henry and he looked tired. The dark circles under his eyes had been there for days or weeks now, a silent reminder of the stress he had been carrying on his own. He had been working full days, managing the Crestview expansion, and coming home every night to walk on eggshells, sleeping alone in the guest room and sometimes the study just to give her space."Henry," Andrea called

Henry shifted beside her, turning his body toward her. "Andrea…""Let her voice it, Henry," Dr. Chen said gently, holding up a hand. He turned back to Andrea, resting his elbows on the arms of his chair. "Andrea, if a woman came into this office with Type 1 diabetes because her pancreas stopped producing insulin, would you tell her she was weak for taking insulin shots?""No," Andrea said immediately. "That's a medical condition. It's biological.""And what do you think is happening in your body right now?" Dr. Chen asked, leaning forward. "During pregnancy, your body produces massive amounts of estrogen and progesterone. Within forty-eight hours of delivering Sophie, those hormone levels crashed to virtually zero. At the same time, your brain was flooded with prolactin and oxytocin to drive maternal bonding and vigilance. Add chronic sleep deprivation on top of that, and your amygdala—the part of your brain responsible for processing fear and threat detection—got locked into high gea

The air in Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport smelled like stale coffee, jet fuel, and late-night panic.It was 4:00 PM on Thursday. Mindy rolled her sleek, matte-black carry-on suitbag through Terminal 5, her heels clicking rhythmically against the polished floor. Over her shoulder hung her structured leather tote bag, inside of which rested her passport, a fresh tube of red lipstick, and the printed boarding pass for British Airways Flight 294.I pulled out my phone and checked my texts one last time before stepping into the gate queue.She stepped to the side of the gate queue and pulled out her phone to check her messages one last time before switching to airplane mode.Andrea: Go get your man, girl. I’m rooting for you. Safe flight! ❤️Mindy smiled, a soft, genuine warmth settling in her chest. No jokes, no playful insults—just her best friend cheering her on. She typed back a quick reply.Mindy: Thanks, Drea. Take care of yourself while I'm gone. See you in a week!Boarding

It was Tuesday afternoon, and outside the windows of Suite 402, a thick, persistent London fog had completely swallowed the city skyline.Inside, the room was a haven of soft lamplight, tossed blankets, and warm air.Mindy lay sprawled across the plush king-sized bed, wearing one of Marcus’s oversized grey t-shirts that hung off her shoulder. Her sketchbook was open in her lap, but she hadn't drawn a single line in twenty minutes. Instead, her fingers were absently playing with the soft cotton of Marcus’s sleeve.Marcus was stretched out beside her, his long frame angled so his head rested comfortably on her thigh. He had one arm thrown over his eyes, looking more relaxed than he had in months.On the nightstand, Marcus’s work phone buzzed.It wasn't a gentle notification. It was the sharp, demanding triple-vibration of an urgent email. Marcus didn't move a muscle. He just let out a low, dramatic groan into the mattress.Mindy giggled, leaning down to poke his shoulder. "Isn't that yo