Susan moved through the suite like a shadow, quiet but tense, while Leah babbled happily in her crib, the night of the storm ignited something in her, the want and hunger for Chris, the love he showered her with back then but she was still wary, still being careful, so it felt awkward.
Chris was already awake, sitting at the small dining table with his laptop open, a half-finished coffee beside him. He looked like the man she remembered crisp, in control, unreadable. But when his eyes lifted to hers, she saw none of that. Just weariness. Just need. Just like her.
"You are not sleeping," she accused, her voice flat.
"Neither are you," he replied evenly, closing the laptop. "Susan… we can't keep doing this."
"Doing what?"
"This." He gestured helplessly between them. "Circling each other like enemies when all I want is to fix what I broke. When it's hurting us both to stay apart"?
Her chest constricted. "You think words will fix it?"
"No." His voice dropped lower, rougher. "But I can't stay silent anymore."
He stood, each step toward her deliberate. Her pulse raced. She wanted to step back but forced herself still.
"I loved you, Susan," he said, the words steady but breaking something inside him. "I still do. That's the truth I should have fought for before you walked away. trust your feeling for me, that you genuinely weren't holding anything against me for what my family did, but I was a coward and it cost me us. It almost cost me Leah. And I swear to God, I'll never forgive myself if I let that happen again."
Her throat burned, but she forced a bitter laugh. "So now you say it. After months. After letting me believe you didn't want us. I waited Chris, hopefully like a fool"
Chris flinched. "I wanted you every damn day. I just didn't know how to face you after what i did. Letting you walk away that day was the biggest mistake i made."
Susan's eyes brimmed, but her voice cut sharp. "Then maybe you never deserved me in the first place."
Silence. His jaw clenched, but he didn't argue. Instead, he stepped closer, close enough she could feel the heat of him, close enough to remember every night they'd spent tangled together.
"You're right," he said softly. "Maybe I didn't deserve you then. But I'm going to spend the rest of my life proving I deserve you now."
Her breath hitched. For a second just a second she saw the man she had loved, raw and stripped bare.
But fear rushed back in, smothering it.
"Chris," she whispered, her voice breaking, "don't make promises you can't keep. I am tired of trying to heal and getting hurt again"
She turned away before he could see her tears, scooping Leah from the crib as if her daughter could shield her.
The day stretched slow, heavy with unspoken words. Susan did everything to avoid him walks with Leah in the garden, long baths, hiding in her room with books she couldn't even focus on.
But Chris was always there. Quiet. Watching.
He didn't press. He didn't argue. Instead, he moved through the suite as though he belonged cleaning bottles before she asked, rocking Leah when she fussed, making coffee exactly how she liked it and leaving the cup at her elbow without a word.
It unnerved her more than his declarations. Because this wasn't the powerful, cold man she remembered. This was Chris stripped bare, desperate to prove himself not through money or dominance… but through presence like he did before.
By evening, her nerves were frayed. Leah had been restless all day, clinging, crying. Susan paced the suite, bouncing her, murmuring softly, but nothing soothed her.
"Give her to me," Chris said gently, stepping closer.
She hesitated but exhaustion won. She handed Leah over, her arms suddenly feeling too light, too empty.
Chris cradled their daughter with a tenderness that split Susan open. He murmured low, soothing, and Leah quieted almost instantly, her little fists clutching his shirt.
Susan's chest ached. "You make it look easy."
Chris looked up, eyes meeting hers dark, steady, unbearably soft. "It's not. She's my miracle. Just like you, I love her."
Her breath caught. She spun away, pretending to busy herself with tidying the counter. "Don't say things like that."
"Why not?" His voice was closer now, right behind her. "Because you'll start to believe me?"
Her grip tightened on the glass she was holding. "Because I'll start to want to believe you."
The silence that followed was suffocating. She felt him move closer, the warmth of his presence crowding her, his scent sharp, familiar, devastating.
"Turn around, Susan," he whispered.
She shook her head, heart pounding.
"Susan." His voice was lower now, rough. Pleading. Commanding. "Look at me."
Slowly, against her better judgment, she turned.
And there he was Leah asleep in his arms, his eyes burning into hers with everything he'd never said before.
The space between them vibrated, alive with memory, with hunger, with heartbreak.
For a moment, she thought he would kiss her. For a moment, she thought she'd let him.
Instead, Chris leaned down, brushed his lips over Susan 's forehead, and whispered, "let us love Susan."
Then he turned away, carrying their daughter to her crib with a reverence that shattered her.
Susan stood frozen, trembling, her lips aching from the kiss that never came and her heart pounding at the realisation that she was now the one in the way of her happily ever after.