I walked away.
I didn't look back.
I heard nothing—no footsteps, no breath, no voice. Just the echo of my own heels on polished marble as I walked out of that building and away from him.
Let him stand there.
Let him stay dazed.
I hailed the first taxi I could find and leaned my head back as the city blurred past. My phone buzzed once, but I didn't check it. My chest felt tight, not just from exhaustion—but from the storm of memories and emotions that wouldn't leave me alone.
As the hotel room door opened, everything melted the moment I saw him.
"Noah!" I bent down just as he ran toward me, tiny arms flung around my waist.
"Mom! Why were you late? Dane and I were waiting!" He pouted, cheeks puffed up adorably.
God, how could I ever explain this to him?
That his father had cornered me?
Mocked me?
Blocked me with silence and bloodshot eyes?
I couldn't.
So, I did what I always did—I smiled through it. Kneeling down, I kissed his forehead. "I'm sorry, dear. Mom was busy with work. But my brave boy waited all by himself like a champ. I'm so proud of you, sweetheart."
He giggled, wrapping his arms around me tighter. That sound—his joy—was the only peace I had these days.
Then Dane appeared, arms crossed, smirking like usual. "So, why were you late, Miss Badass CEO?"
I glared.
He raised both hands, surrendering. "Alright, alright, I was just kidding. But seriously, you look pale. What happened?"
Before I could answer, Noah turned to me. "Mom! Are you sick?!"
I shook my head quickly, brushing his hair. "No, dear. Just tired. That's all."
Dane caught the signal.
He nodded slightly.
He knew.
Knew it must have been Ethan.
And maybe he also knew how close I'd come to unraveling.
"Okay, Noah. I'm leaving now," Dane said, stretching. "Dane is tired."
Noah giggled and gave him a wave before turning to me. I scooped him up, heart aching, and walked Dane to the door.
"Put me down, mom," Noah pouted again. "I'm a grown-up. And you're tired, too."
I laughed softly and nodded. "Alright, alright. Grown-up Noah it is."
We curled up together that night. I thought I'd fall asleep from pure exhaustion, but my mind wouldn't rest.
Not even a little.
And the next morning…
I wasn't prepared.
At all.
Because when I walked out, still in my robe, yawning and wondering if I should even attempt coffee…
There he was.
Noah.
Dressed, packed, bag slung over his shoulder like he was going to summer camp.
I blinked. "Noah… where are you going?"
He turned, beaming. "I'm going to see my dad, mom."
I froze.
Breath caught midair.
"What?" I managed. "Why, suddenly? Did… did I upset you?"
Panic started bubbling in my chest.
Noah tilted his head. "No, I just suddenly want to see him. I want to know about Dad's side of the family."
That was it.
Simple. Honest.
And yet it felt like someone had ripped the ground out from beneath me.
I walked toward him, slow and careful, like my body was moving without permission.
"Alright," I said, reaching for my phone. "I have his number. Here. You can call him. Do whatever you want. Mom will never interfere with your choices."
My voice was steady.
But inside?
I was breaking.
Fear. Pain. A twisted knot of everything I couldn't name. I couldn't even breathe as I watched him search my contacts and hold the phone up.
His little fingers. His tiny, serious expression.
My heart stopped.
And then…
He burst out laughing.
I blinked. "Noah?"
He held up the phone and grinned. "Who's going to take a call when I didn't even dial it?"
"You… didn't?" I whispered.
"Nope!" he said proudly. "Why would I call him? I was just joking with you."
He walked toward me, still smiling. "So tell me, mom… what if I was that kind of son?"
My knees almost gave out.
He was teasing me.
And yet I couldn't even be mad. I was still lost in the wave of what could've been. What almost was.
And that memory—
Six years ago.
Me, sitting on the edge of his couch, legs swinging like a child, smiling brightly.
"Why have we never fought, Ethan?" I'd asked.
"What?" he muttered, not even looking up from his laptop.
"Come on," I said, nudging his arm. "Let's fight. Just once. Let's try."
"Are you a kid?" he'd scoffed. "Why are you being so childish?"
I remember how that stung. But I didn't let it show.
"If you don't want to, then stop mocking me," I muttered.
He looked up then, eyes sparkling with amusement. "So tell me, Maya… what if I was that kind of boyfriend?"