Chapter 79 Meet Cute Gone Wrong
Elena's POV
I didn’t plan to go far.
Just air.
Just movement.
Just something that reminded me the world still existed beyond feeding schedules and nap windows and the quiet weight of memory.
The park was only a few blocks away—green, calm, ordinary. The kind of place people went when they believed life was simple. I pushed the stroller slowly, my daughter bundled up, her tiny breaths fogging the clear plastic cover as sunlight filtered through the trees.
I breathed with her.
In.
Out.
For the first time in a long while, my shoulders loosened.
There were other parents around. Nannies. Joggers. A man sitting awkwardly on a bench with a stroller parked beside him, scrolling his phone with intense concentration, like the baby was an assignment he hadn’t studied for.
I noticed him only because he looked… nervous. Not tired-nervous. Not bored-nervous. But don’t-mess-this-up nervous.
I smiled faintly to myself and kept walking.
I stayed longer than I meant to. Watched my daughter’s eyelids flutter as she drifted into sleep. Let the sun warm my face. Pretended—just for a moment—that nothing had ever gone wrong.
When she slept deeply, I turned back toward home.
The walk back felt shorter. Familiar. Automatic.
I reached my gate, unlocked it with one hand, wheeled the stroller inside, and only then—only then—did something feel off.
Too quiet.
I bent down, gently pulled back the cover, already smiling—
And the smile slid straight off my face.
This was not my baby.
My lungs emptied all at once.
“No,” I whispered. Then louder. “No—no—no.”
Different face.
Different nose.
Different eyes staring up at me in confused silence.
My heart slammed so hard it hurt.
“Oh my God,” I breathed, hands shaking. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry—”
The baby whimpered, sensing my panic.
I straightened abruptly, scanning the street like the world might explain itself if I looked hard enough.
I had taken the wrong stroller.
My stomach dropped.
“Help!” I shouted, wheeling back toward the gate, my voice breaking. “Please—someone help me!”
I didn’t wait.
I ran.
I pushed the stroller back down the street, breath tearing out of me, fear loud and absolute. The park. The man. The bench.
Please let him still be there.
Please let him not be halfway to the police station.
When I reached the park, my lungs burned and my hands were numb.
And there he was.
Standing exactly where I’d last seen him.
Panicking.
Hair disheveled. Phone pressed to his ear. One hand clutching a stroller handle like it might disappear.
When he saw me, his eyes went wide.
“You!” he exclaimed. “Thank God—thank God—”
“You took my baby,” I said breathlessly.
“You took my niece,” he shot back just as fast.
We stared at each other for half a second—then both looked down.
And exhaled.
“Oh my God,” he said again, running a hand through his hair. “I was halfway home when I looked down and realized this baby was… not familiar.”
I let out a shaky laugh that bordered on hysteria. “I didn’t realize until I got home.”
“I’m dead,” he continued. “My sister is going to kill me. This is her child. I begged her to let me take her out today.”
“Why?” I demanded.
He winced. “To impress a woman.”
I blinked. “I’m sorry—what?”
“I met her online,” he said, wincing harder. “She said she liked kids. We agreed to meet at the park. I thought—what better way to show I’m… responsible?”
“And?” I asked flatly.
“She stood me up,” he muttered. “Texted me ten minutes ago. Said she was just pulling my leg. That she couldn’t date someone like me.”
I crossed my arms. “Someone like you?”
He gestured helplessly at himself. “Apparently.”
I studied him properly now.
Tall. Clean-cut. Well-dressed. Not model-perfect, but striking in a quiet way. The kind of man people underestimated because he didn’t announce himself.
“What’s wrong with you?” I asked bluntly.
He blinked. “I—excuse me?”
“You’re handsome,” I said. “You look put together. You don’t seem unkind. Why would she say that?”
He hesitated, then sighed. “My profile picture.”
“Let me see it.”
He pulled out his phone, embarrassed, and turned the screen toward me.
I stared.
Then laughed.
Out loud.
“Oh wow,” I said. “That picture does not do you justice.”
He grimaced. “It’s six years old.”
“Why haven’t you changed it?”
He shrugged sheepishly. “Didn’t think it mattered.”
“It matters,” I said firmly. “A lot.”
We exchanged strollers, both of us checking twice—three times—before handing them over.
My daughter stirred, then settled, perfectly safe.
Relief hit me so hard my knees nearly gave out.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
“No,” I replied. “Thank you.”
He hesitated, then cleared his throat. “Listen, um… would you maybe like to go out sometime? Coffee? Somewhere without… baby confusion?”
I smiled. A real one.
But I shook my head.
“I can’t,” I said gently.
He nodded, accepting it with surprising grace. “Worth asking.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “It was.”
I turned to leave, my heart calmer now, my world intact again.
As I walked away, I thought about how easily things could be mixed up.
How quickly lives crossed.
How fragile everything really was.
And how, for now—
I was exactly where I needed to be.
But something weird happened. That night, I couldn't stop thinking about him, and I was glad that for the first time in a long time, I wasn't thinking about Damian.
But I didn't collect his number, and I even turned him down. Why will he even ask me out on a date, didn't he see my baby? he doesn't even know if I'm a married woman.
I really wish I can see him again, and I did, few days later, in the most unexpected way.