Chapter One Hundred And Fifty Four

Theo's POV

Evening came too soon.

Sofia was already ready, baby Martha bundled up in her arms. The sight of them by the door, prepared to leave, made something in my chest tighten. I wasn't the type to dwell on emotions, but this-this was different.

I couldn't believe this was happening. I couldn't believe I wouldn't get to watch my daughter grow.

I might miss her first babbling, the first time she sits up, the moment she learns to crawl, her first steps-every milestone, every little thing that parents are supposed to witness. I might miss all of it.

And the worst part? I had no one to blame but myself.

Sofia adjusted Martha's blanket, making sure she was warm. She hadn't said much since we got back from the hospital. She barely looked at me unless necessary, keeping her focus on Martha. I understood why. I hadn't given her much reason to believe in me-to believe in us.

But now, with them standing at the door, ready to leave, I felt something close to desperation clawing at my chest.

"You don't have to go," I said before I could stop myself.

Sofia froze for a moment, then exhaled softly. "Yes, I do."

I clenched my jaw. I knew she would say that, but hearing it still made my stomach twist. "Sofia-"

She shook her head sharply, not even looking at me. "Don't start this now, Theo. Please."

Her voice was tired, not angry. Just… done.

That stung more than if she had yelled at me.

I took a step closer, lowering my voice. "I'm not trying to fight."

She let out a humorless laugh. "That's a first."

I ignored the jab. "I just-" I ran a hand through my hair, struggling for the right words. "I don't want to lose her."

She sighed, adjusting Martha in her arms as if the weight of the conversation was too much to carry. "You can come and visit."

I blinked, caught off guard by how easily she said it-like she had already made peace with the idea of me being nothing more than a visitor in our daughter's life.

"That's it?" I asked, my voice rough. "That's all I get?"

Sofia finally looked at me then, her hazel eyes filled with exhaustion. "Theo, what do you want me to say? That all the pain, the distance, the choices you made just disappear because you suddenly decided you don't want to lose her?"

Her words hit like a punch to the gut.

I knew she was right. I knew I had no right to expect anything from her. But damn it, I still wanted to.

I exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down my face. "I'm not asking you to forget everything. I just-" My voice caught, and I forced myself to meet her eyes. "I just don't want to be a stranger to my own daughter."

Sofia's expression softened, but only slightly. "Then prove it, Theo. Not with words. Not with last-minute pleas when I'm standing at the door, ready to walk away. Prove it with actions. Consistency. Effort."

I didn't say anything.

There was nothing left to say.

Instead, I reached for the car keys and grabbed their bags. Sofia didn't protest as I walked past her, stepping outside into the crisp evening air. The silence between us was thick, filled with all the things we weren't saying.

By the time I pulled the car up to the front, she was already walking down the steps, Martha bundled securely in her arms. I opened the passenger door, but she didn't look at me as she settled into the seat. I shut the door gently, then moved to the driver's side, my grip tightening on the wheel as I started the engine.

The drive to the airport was quiet. No music. No small talk. Just the hum of the car and the unspoken weight pressing between us. I stole a glance at Sofia, but she was staring out the window, her face unreadable.

I wanted to say something. Anything.

But what could I say that would make a difference now?

When we arrived, the jet was already waiting on the tarmac, engines running. I parked near the entrance, my chest tightening as I turned off the car.

Sofia exhaled softly, then reached for the door handle.

I beat her to it.

She hesitated but didn't argue as I opened the door for her. I took Martha's bag from the backseat and followed her up the steps leading to the jet. The pilot nodded at me in greeting, but I barely acknowledged him.

Inside, Sofia carefully settled Martha into the seat beside her, adjusting her blanket one last time. My throat felt tight as I stood there, watching them.

This was it.

She was really leaving.

I swallowed hard. "Sofia-"

She looked up at me, waiting.

I swallowed past the tightness in my throat, my pulse hammering as I forced the words out.

"I love you."

Sofia didn't react.

She didn't flinch, didn't look away-didn't acknowledge it at all.

And that hurt more than if she had scoffed or told me I was lying.

How could she love me back? After everything?

I had given her every reason to walk away, every reason to believe my love-if I had ever truly shown it-wasn't enough.

I let out a slow breath, then turned to Martha. She was fast asleep, her tiny face peaceful, oblivious to the storm raging inside me. Gently, I leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, lingering for a moment, breathing her in.

Then, before I could stop myself, I did the same to Sofia.

Her skin was warm beneath my lips, but she didn't move. Didn't pull away. Didn't lean in.

Just nothing.

I stepped back, shoving my hands into my pockets as I forced a small nod. "Goodbye."

Sofia finally blinked, her expression unreadable. "Goodbye, Theo."

And with that, I turned and walked away.

I didn't look back.

Even when the jet door shut behind me. Even when the engines roared louder.

I didn't look back.

Because if I did, I wasn't sure I'd be able to let them go.

As I stepped off the tarmac and into my car, the weight in my chest felt unbearable. The roar of the jet's engines filled my ears, a final reminder that Sofia and Martha were gone. I gripped the steering wheel tightly, staring straight ahead, my knuckles turning white.

Then my phone buzzed.

A single notification flashed across the screen-a private message from an unknown number.

You think this story is over?

My breath stalled.

I stared at the message, my pulse thudding heavily in my ears. A cold sense of unease crawled up my spine, but before I could even process it, another message appeared.

It's only just beginning.

A chill ran through me.

I clenched my jaw and swallowed hard. My first instinct was to suspect Thomas-he had always played his games, always lurked in the shadows, pulling strings.

But Thomas was dead.

I made sure of that.

Didn't I?

I exhaled sharply, locking my phone and gripping the wheel harder.

The past was supposed to stay buried.

But maybe… it never really was.

(The End)