Grace Carter's POV
Once I believed that peace was an extraordinary thing.
A perfect vacation.
A life without problems.
A love story without misunderstandings.
However, I had been getting the sense that peace was a lot easier than that lately.
Ethan was humming to himself as he made coffee.
It seemed like he was asking me if I had gotten a good sleep before checking his phone.
It was as though the way he instinctively grabbed my hand when we crossed a street as if that was what he had always done.
Small things.
Ordinary things.
It was the kind Harper told him that was most important.
And somehow...
I couldn't tell you but the common things were healing my heart.
---
After the aquarium date we had a calms days following.
Every morning, Ethan would go to work.
The board insisted on impossibles, though.
Even his Inbox didn't empty out overnight.
However, there was a change.
He did not now slip behind at those duties.
He made his way home as early as possible.
I answered, not because there was any emergency in particular, but because he called during lunch asking me how I was doing.
At times, it took less than 2 minutes to complete the dialogue.
"Have you eaten?"
"Yes."
"Are you resting?"
"I'm trying."
"Good."
See you tonight.
Simple.
Almost ordinary.
But, each call was a reminder of something important.
His decision was to return.
Again.
And again.
And again.
---
On one Wednesday afternoon, I chose to stroll down to the little café a couple of blocks away from the penthouse.
It was one of those warm, quiet days and my doctor had said to me, "Get moving!One of those warm, quiet days and my doctor told me, "Get moving!
Maria never let me go without her.
I can take a step forward by myself.
"I know."
She smiled kindly.
But if Mr. Blackwood is not available, he asked me to come with you, he said.
My eyes rolled around in my head in fondness.
"He's becoming overprotective."
"He worries."
"I've noticed."
Truthfully...
I didn't mind.
Not anymore.
---
When we departed from the café, an hour later, with our paper bag of pastries, and our takeout cups, I had a strange sensation.
It wasn't fear.
Not exactly.
More like...
Awareness.
As if someone had quietly spoken my name in a crowded room.
I briefly looked over my shoulder.
The sidewalk was bustling with people rushing by.
A mother and her child in a stroller.
An old married man gave his wife directions.
A businessman was scurrying over the road as he spoke into his headset.
Nothing looked unusual.
Still...
The feeling lingered.
"You all right?" Maria asked.
"I think so."
I smiled awkwardly.
"It was weird, I felt like someone was looking at me."
Carefully Maria scanned the area.
I do not see anybody.
"Neither do I."
I brushed it off.
I was more emotional now that I was pregnant.
Perhaps I was seeing things through my imagination.
---
Across the city...
The woman, Victoria Blackwood, was standing in her private office that overlooked the Blackwood Foundation gardens.
The room exuded control in every aspect.
Perfectly arranged books.
Perfectly polished furniture.
Perfect silence.
Suddenly, a knock came upon her ears.
"Come in."
Then a man in his late 40s entered.
In his gray suit there was nothing special.
Especially his face.
The type of disappearer that left no trace except at events where everyone they knew had been there.
Mrs. Blackwood, you requested to see me.
Victoria pointed to the chair across from her desk.
"Sit."
He obeyed.
Quickly, she pushed a folder over the smooth wood.
Inside were photographs.
Grace leaving prenatal appointments.
Grace holding shopping bags.
Grace and Ethan outside the aquarium, laughing.
Grace placing her hand over her expanding tummy.
The man looked up.
"You want information?"
"I want certainty."
He nodded once.
What do I need to keep an eye on?
"Her routine."
"Her visitors."
"Her business plans."
Anyone who she spends any time with.
He hesitated.
Do you think she's dangerous?
Victoria peered out the window.
"No."
Her voice was calm.
I think love makes people crazy, I think that.
She folded her hands in the correct way.
"And the element of the unpredictable has taken its toll on this family.
---
The investigator looked again at the pictures.
If only I was to approach her?
Victoria responded instantly.
"No."
I don't want her to be scared.
No, I don't want headlines," said the speaker.
"Just want to know . . . . .
"...where she goes."
"...who she trusts."
"…will she stay in this family or not?
He put the folder away.
"Understood."
But as he was about to depart, Victoria spoke again.
"And one more thing."
He turned back.
"Is my son working for you, then?"
She held his gaze.
He said that he had never met her before.
---
After he departed there was silence in the office.
Victoria stood at the window.
An old frame picture was on her desk.
A very young Ethan.
No older than ten.
By his father's side.
Both smiling.
It had been seized before the changes took place.
Before grief.
Before ambition.
Before she had come to understand that it was more important to protect the name of the Blackwoods than the people who used it.
She stretched her hand towards the picture.
Her fingers rested on her son's face.
Then she quietly turned the frame facedown.
As if it were too painful to view.
---
That evening...
Ethan came home with white lilies in his hands.
Their resemblance brought me back to memories of you.
I blinked.
"They're flowers."
"They're elegant."
I laughed.
Well, that's a bad comparison," was his reply.
I'll do my best.
I received them from him.
I brought dessert, too.
I looked inside the small bakery box.
"Lemon tarts?"
Ethan smiled, looking oddly pleased with himself.
"The lady at the bakery said pregnant women either love lemon or hate it."
"And you trusted a stranger with my cravings?"
"I trusted a woman who looked like she'd seen a lot of pregnant husbands panic."
I burst into laughter.
"I think that was a wise decision."
"I thought so too."
He leaned down and kissed my forehead.
It was quick.
Natural.
As though he no longer had to remind himself to do it.
Little moments.
Harper had been right.
Love wasn't changing in dramatic leaps.
It was changing in habits.
After dinner, we settled into the nursery.
The room had quietly become our favorite place in the penthouse.
Ethan lowered himself into the rocking chair while I sat cross-legged on the soft rug, sorting through tiny baby clothes we'd been gifted.
He picked up the smallest pair of socks I'd ever seen.
"These can't possibly fit a real person."
"They will."
"They're smaller than my thumb."
I laughed.
"Babies are tiny, Ethan."
"I understand that in theory."
He held one sock between two fingers.
"I just wasn't emotionally prepared for footwear this small."
I laughed so hard my eyes watered.
"You are absolutely ridiculous."
"And yet..."
He looked at me with a smile that reached his eyes.
"...you keep laughing."
"I do."
"I like that."
"So do I."
The room fell into a comfortable silence.
The kind that no longer felt empty.
After a while, Ethan spoke.
"I've been thinking."
"Oh?"
"I've missed a lot."
I looked up.
"What do you mean?"
"I spent months treating this pregnancy like something I had to manage."
His eyes drifted toward the crib.
"I kept asking whether appointments were scheduled."
"Whether the doctors were the best."
"Whether the nursery was ready."
He smiled sadly.
"I forgot to ask how you were."
My heart softened.
"You ask now."
"I know."
"But I can't get those months back."
I set aside the tiny onesie I was folding and walked over to him.
"You don't have to."
He looked at me.
"You can't rewrite the beginning."
I rested my hand against his cheek.
"But you can change the ending."
For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he covered my hand with his.
"I intend to."
Outside the penthouse, across the street, a black sedan sat quietly beneath the shade of a line of trees.
Its engine was off.
Its windows were tinted.
From inside, a camera lens rested just above the dashboard.
The investigator Victoria had hired watched the illuminated windows of the Blackwood penthouse.
He wasn't looking through a telephoto lens anymore.
He didn't need to.
From where he sat, he could see enough.
Grace laughing.
Ethan helping her stand.
The two of them disappearing into the nursery together.
There was no shouting.
No visible tension.
No signs of a marriage held together by obligation.
He frowned.
That wasn't what he'd expected.
His phone vibrated.
Victoria Blackwood
He answered immediately.
"Mrs. Blackwood."
"What have you learned?"
He glanced back toward the apartment.
"They seem... comfortable together."
Silence.
"I didn't ask if they looked comfortable."
"I asked for facts."
"Yes, ma'am."
He opened his notebook.
"Mr. Blackwood cancelled a business trip earlier this week."
Victoria's expression hardened on the other end of the line.
"He spent the afternoon with Mrs. Blackwood."
Another pause.
"They visited the aquarium."
He continued reading.
"He has been returning home earlier than usual."
"He calls her during the day."
"They've attended medical appointments together."
"And tonight..."
He looked up toward the nursery window.
"...they appear to be preparing for the baby."
The silence stretched longer this time.
Finally, Victoria asked the question she had been avoiding.
"Do they appear... happy?"
The investigator hesitated.
He'd spent years observing people.
Liars.
Cheaters.
Corporate spies.
He had learned to recognize performance.
What he'd seen tonight wasn't performance.
"It appears genuine."
Victoria said nothing.
He continued carefully.
"Mrs. Blackwood smiles often when he's around."
"And Mr. Blackwood..."
He paused.
"...looks at her differently than he does everyone else."
Another long silence.
Then—
"Keep watching."
The line went dead.
Victoria remained seated in her office long after the call ended.
The room was dark except for the desk lamp casting a pool of light over the investigator's report.
She read one sentence again.
Mr. Blackwood cancelled a business trip to spend time with his wife.
She closed the folder slowly.
Her son had once postponed attending his own birthday dinner because of an international conference.
He had missed holidays.
Anniversaries.
Family gatherings.
Work had always come first.
Always.
Until Grace.
Victoria leaned back in her chair.
For the first time, a question slipped into her mind that she had stubbornly refused to ask.
What if this isn't a distraction?
What if she's becoming the reason he's finally learning to live?
The thought unsettled her.
Because if it was true...
Then everything she had spent years teaching Ethan had been wrong.
She wasn't ready to accept that.
Not yet.
Instead, she reached for the report and closed it with deliberate precision.
"Love," she whispered to the empty room, "has always been a dangerous investment."
But somewhere deep inside her, beneath decades of pride and control...
A mother quietly wondered if she had mistaken strength for loneliness all along.
And for the first time in years...
Victoria Blackwood wasn't watching Grace.
She was beginning to confront the woman staring back at her in the mirror.