We can't just We can and we should before this gets messier." Ethan stared at her. "Is that what this is to you? A mess?" "That's not what I meant." "Then what did you mean?" Lena's composure cracked just a little. "I don't know, Ethan.
I don't know what I mean. I'm tired. I'm overwhelmed and I feel like I'm doing this alone even though you're here." "You're not alone." "It feels like I am." Ethan took a step closer. "Then tell me what you need." "I need you to be consistent," Lena said.
"I need to know when you're going to be here and when you're not. I need to know if I can count on you." "You can count on me." "Can I?" The question hung in the air between them. Ethan wanted to argue, to tell her she was wrong, that he'd been there every step of the way. But he could see it in her eyes, the doubt, the fear.
She didn't believe him. "I'm not going anywhere," he said quietly. "I've told you that from the beginning." "Saying it and proving it are two different things." "Then let me prove it." Lena looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. "Okay, prove it." The next few weeks were a test Ethan hadn't studied for.
He showed up every time Lena called. He took Elena for overnights even when he was exhausted. He rearranged his work schedule, turned down projects, and missed a company happy hour because Lena needed help with a midnight feeding. And slowly, something shifted.
Lena started trusting him. Not all the way, not completely, but enough to let him in. One night, he arrived at her apartment to find her crying in the kitchen. Elena was screaming in the bedroom.
Rosa was off for the night, and Lena looked like she was about to break. "I can't do this," she said when she saw him. "Yes, you can." "No, I can't. I don't know what I'm doing.
I don't know how to be a This response didn't load. Try again by chatting to Claude." Ethan walked past Lena into the bedroom where Elena was red-faced and screaming. He picked her up, checking her diaper, feeling her forehead, running through the mental checklist he'd memorized over the past month. She wasn't wet.
She wasn't hot. She'd been fed an hour ago according to the app on his phone. "She's been like this for 2 hours," Lena said from the doorway, her voice shaking. "I've tried everything.
Feeding her, changing her, walking her around. Nothing works." Ethan held Elena against his chest and started swaying gently, humming under his breath. It was something he used to do with Mia. Sometimes it worked.
Sometimes it didn't. "When did you last sleep?" he asked. "I don't know. Yesterday?
The day before?" "Lena don't." "I know I look like hell. I know I'm falling apart. You don't have to tell me." Elena's crying softened to a whimper. Ethan kept swaying, kept humming.
After a minute, she quieted completely, her body going slack against him. Lena stared. "How did you do that?" "I didn't do anything. She just wore herself out." "That's not You did something?
What did you do?" Ethan looked at her. Really looked at her. Her hair was unwashed, pulled back in a messy knot. She had dark circles under her eyes and a stain on her shirt that might have been spit up or coffee or both.
She looked nothing like the CEO who commanded boardrooms and made million-dollar decisions before lunch. She looked human and terrified. "Go take a shower," he said. "What?" "Take a shower.
Sleep. I've got her." "Ethan, I can't just Yes, you can. I'm here. Elena's fine.
Go." Lena hesitated, looking between him and the baby. Then she nodded and walked out of the room without another word. Ethan heard the bathroom door close, heard the water start. He sat down in the rocking chair by the window, Elena still sleeping against his chest.
The apartment was quiet except for the faint sound of running water and the city noise filtering in from outside. His phone buzzed, a text from Mia. "You coming home tonight?" He typed back one-handed. "Probably not." "Lena needs help." "Okay." "Love you." "Love you, too." He set the phone down and closed his eyes.
Elena's breathing was warm against his neck. She smelled like baby lotion and something sweet he couldn't name. He'd forgotten this part. How small they were at the beginning, how fragile, how much they needed you even when they couldn't tell you what was wrong.
The shower shut off. 20 minutes later, Lena emerged wearing clean clothes, her hair still damp. She looked marginally more human. "Thank you," she said quietly.
"Don't thank me. This is what we do." "We?" "Yeah, we." Lena sat down on the edge of the bed, watching him with Elena. "I keep waiting for you to get tired of this. Of us.
Of all the chaos." "I'm not going anywhere." "You keep saying that." "Because it's true." She looked away. "My mother said you'd leave. She said men always do. That you'd stick around until it got hard and then disappear." "Your mother doesn't know me." "No.
But she knows men." Ethan shifted Elena slightly, careful not to wake her. "I'm not your father." Lena's head snapped up. "What?" "Your dad. He left, right?
When you were a kid?" Her jaw tightened. "How did you You mentioned it once, at the gala. You were talking about your mom and you said something about her raising you alone." Lena was quiet for a long moment. "He left when I was seven.
Came home one day and his stuff was gone. No note, no explanation, just gone. That's why she doesn't trust me. That's why I don't trust you.
The words hung between them, sharp and honest. Fair enough, Ethan said. But I'm still here. Lena stood up and walked to the window, her arms crossed.
The city lights reflected in the glass, making her look small and far away. I don't know how to do this, she said. The mom thing, the partnership thing, any of it. I'm used to being in control.
I'm used to having answers. And now I don't have any and it's it's terrifying. Yeah, it is. She turned to look at him.