Chapter 21 – The Space Between Them
Morning arrived with golden sunlight spilling through the windowpanes, but Aria stayed curled in bed, eyes open, staring at nothing. The baby had kicked her awake around 5 a.m., and she hadn't fallen back asleep since. Her hand rested gently on her belly, rising and falling with every breath.
Kade hadn't stayed the night.
He never did unless she asked him to—and she hadn't. She wasn't ready for that kind of closeness, not when her feelings still swung between simmering frustration and tentative forgiveness.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. She reached for it lazily.
Kade: Morning. Have a meeting in Midtown. Call me if anything feels off. Or if you just want to hear a boring recap of numbers.
She smiled faintly and locked the screen without replying. Not because she was upset, but because she didn't know how to respond yet. It was like trying to speak a new language—one where she wasn't in love, wasn't angry, but wasn't indifferent either.
After a quick shower, she pulled on a pair of stretchy black leggings and a soft long-sleeve top. The bump was more noticeable now. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, fingers tracing the outline of her belly.
"I don't know how to do this," she whispered to her baby. "But I promise I'll try."
Downstairs, she made tea and sat at the table with her journal. Writing had become her only form of therapy. She didn't like talking to people—not about real things, not about herself. Writing gave her space to breathe.
She was halfway through a paragraph when there was a knock at the door.
Her stomach tightened. No one ever knocked.
She opened the door cautiously, and to her surprise, it was Zola—Kade's driver. He held a plain white bag and gave her a polite smile.
"Good morning, Miss Lode. Mr. Val asked me to drop this off for you."
"Oh. Uh, thank you." She hesitated before taking it. "Did he say what it was?"
"No, ma'am. Just that it was from the bakery in Mayfair you mentioned."
She blinked, remembering a random comment she made days ago about loving raspberry-filled croissants from a tiny bakery on the other side of the city. She didn't even think Kade had been listening.
"Tell him… thanks," she said softly.
Back inside, she opened the bag—and sure enough, the croissant was there, still warm, wrapped in soft parchment paper.
She didn't cry. But she felt something unravel inside her. Something small and stubborn.
Kade hadn't always been this thoughtful. But lately… he was trying.
And that was the hard part. He wasn't the same man who broke her. He wasn't begging or manipulating. He was just… there. Steady. Quiet. Present.
But could she ever let her guard down again?
Later that afternoon, she met Hope at a quiet bookstore café near the river. Her only real friend these days, Hope had been one of the few people who treated her like a person and not "Kade Val's mystery girl."
Aria slipped into the booth, immediately wrapping her hands around the hot mug of herbal tea the waitress placed before her.
"You look tired," Hope said, her eyes scanning her gently.
"I'm always tired."
"Pregnancy is no joke, huh?"
Aria nodded. "It's… everything at once. Joy and fear. Anger and hope. It's like I'm living in two worlds."
Hope leaned back, stirring her iced coffee. "And where does Kade fit into those worlds?"
Aria didn't answer right away. She looked out the window at the street below, the world going on like normal.
"He's trying," she finally said. "In a way I didn't expect. But I haven't decided if that's enough."
"You're allowed to take your time. He broke something in you, Aria. That kind of damage doesn't get fixed with croissants and car rides."
A small laugh slipped out of Aria's throat. "You heard about the croissants?"
Hope grinned. "Zola tells my cousin everything."
Of course he did.
"But seriously," Hope said more gently, "don't feel guilty if your heart isn't ready to meet him halfway. Healing isn't a transaction."
They stayed at the café for another hour, talking about books, baby names, and the weird smells Aria couldn't stand anymore. By the time she got back to the penthouse, the weight in her chest had lightened just a little.
Kade didn't come by that evening. Instead, he texted:
Kade: Did Zola deliver your breakfast weapon of choice?
Aria: He did. It was perfect. Thank you.
Kade: Glad you liked it. Sleep well tonight.
She stared at the screen for a moment, then typed:
Aria: You too.
She hit send, placed the phone down, and walked to the window. The lights of the city shimmered in the distance, loud and alive, but up here, it felt quiet. Safe.
And for the first time in a long time, Aria didn't feel entirely alone.
Not because of Kade. But because she was slowly reclaiming herself—on her terms, at her pace.
And that mattered more than anything.