Chapter 19 019
EMILY
The moment the words “Can we talk?” left Ryan’s mouth, my stomach dropped.
Not slowly. Not gently. It felt like something had been cut loose inside me, fear rushing in so fast it stole the air from my lungs. I’d spent the entire evening convincing myself I was ready for whatever he wanted to say—that I’d braced myself, that I’d done the emotional stretching beforehand.
But hearing it out loud made everything feel too real. Too fragile. Like one wrong breath could shatter what little balance we’d found.
I forced a small smile, the kind that took effort. “Come in properly.”
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, the soft click echoing louder than it should have. The living room lamp cast a warm glow across his face, catching on the lines of exhaustion around his eyes. He looked like a man who hadn’t slept well in days. Like someone carrying something heavy with no place to set it down.
We sat on opposite ends of the couch.
The distance between us wasn’t much—just a few feet—but it felt enormous. Charged. Like a no-man’s-land neither of us knew how to cross anymore.
Ryan rubbed his palms against his jeans, a nervous habit I remembered all too well. Then he looked up at me, eyes steady but cautious.
“Em… first, I want to ask for your permission to take Zara to see my parents.”
My breath caught.
For a second, I just stared at him, waiting for the punchline that never came. My mind scrambled to catch up, to make sense of the request, to locate where this conversation was headed.
“I don’t know if your mom would really want to be around the child of a ‘prostitute,’” I said quietly. The word tasted bitter on my tongue. “Since that was what she called me.”
Ryan sucked in a sharp breath, like the air itself had cut him. His eyes closed briefly. When he opened them again, they were filled with regret so raw it almost startled me.
“I’m sorry,” he said immediately. “I’m sorry about her. I’m sorry for whatever she might have said to you, Emily. I never should have let her words stand between us like that.” His voice lowered. “I should have done a lot of things differently.”
I nodded slowly.
The old hurt rose up, familiar and heavy, but it didn’t burn the way it used to. Time had dulled the edges. Or maybe I’d just grown used to carrying it.
“It’s fine,” I said after a moment. “As long as your mom wants to see Zara… then it’s fine.”
Ryan let out a breath like he’d been holding it for years. His shoulders dropped, tension easing just a little.
“Thank you,” he said softly. “That means a lot.”
Silence settled between us again, thick but not hostile. The clock on the wall ticked steadily, marking each second like it mattered.
Ryan leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “I want to ask you something else, Em.”
I nodded. “Go ahead.”
He hesitated. Looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers once before lifting his gaze back to me.
“Did you… did you ever continue your relationship with him?”
I almost scoffed. The reaction rose fast, sharp, and defensive, but I stopped myself. I understood where the question came from. The doubt. The fear. I’d put it there myself, three years ago.
“No,” I said gently. “No, I didn’t.” I swallowed. “I resigned from my job, Ry. I couldn’t be around that place again. I couldn’t even drive past the building without feeling sick. I walked away the same day I walked out of his office.”
Ryan nodded slowly, absorbing the words. “That’s fair.”
I studied him then—really looked at him.
The man sitting across from me wasn’t the angry, wounded version who’d left three years ago with a broken heart and fire in his eyes. This Ryan was quieter. Sadder. But steadier too. Like someone who’d learned how to sit with pain instead of fighting it.
“I missed you, Ry,” I whispered before I could stop myself. The truth slipped out, soft and unguarded. “I’m sorry. I know I never apologized properly. I’m—”
He lifted a hand gently, stopping me mid-sentence. His voice was calm, almost pleading.
“Let’s not go back to the past, Em. Please.” He met my eyes. “I would appreciate it if you and I could have a cordial relationship. For Zara. For us to be able to co-parent without all the old pain dragging us under every time we’re in the same room.”
The words landed softly.
They still hurt.
I nodded, my throat tight. “I understand.”
He stood up then, like he’d already said everything he came to say. “Thank you for allowing her to hang out with me today. I really hope we can tell her I’m her dad soon.”
“Sure,” I said, a little too quickly. “Sure.”
He gave me a small smile. Polite. Careful. “Thanks… I’ll take my leave now.”
I stood too and walked him to the door. My legs felt heavy, like I was moving through water.
He paused on the threshold and looked back at me one last time. “Goodnight, Em.”
“Goodnight, Ryan.”
The door closed quietly behind him.
I slid down onto the floor right there, back against the wood, knees pulled to my chest. My head throbbed—sharp, pulsing pain blooming behind my eyes. I pressed my palms to my temples and squeezed them shut.
I guess our love life is dead now.
The thought came clear and quiet. Not dramatic. Not angry. Just… factual.
I’d spent three years telling myself I didn’t need him. That Zara and I were enough. That the pieces of my heart I’d broken would eventually knit themselves back together on their own.
But sitting there on the floor, listening to the silence he’d left behind, I realized something worse.
I still loved him.
Not the desperate, aching love of before. Not the reckless love that made me stupid and lonely and reach for comfort in the wrong places. This was something quieter, deeper. The kind that didn’t need fireworks anymore.
Just presence.
But he didn’t want that.
He wanted cordial.
He wanted co-parenting.
He wanted boundaries.
And maybe that was fair. Perhaps that was all I deserved after what I’d done.