Chapter 101: Kim's change of heart
Chapter 101: Kim's change of heart
Kim stood in the kitchen, moving from the stovetop to the counter with surprising ease for someone who rarely cooked. A hint of golden sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting soft lines across the floor. The scent of sizzling eggs, grilled tomatoes, and toasted bread filled the air. He tasted the scrambled eggs with the tip of a spoon, added a pinch more salt, and stirred again, focused like a chef on a mission.
He looked around, everything had to be just right. The table was neatly set: two warm plates, gleaming silverware, and two glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice. It was the first time in months he’d done something like this. Not because he had to. But because he wanted to.
From the bedroom, Jane stirred. Her eyes fluttered open as Ian’s soft cries broke through the quiet of the early morning. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and reached for her son, who was wriggling gently in his crib.
“It’s okay, baby,” she whispered, lifting him into her arms. “Shhh.”
She swayed gently, patting his back, still half-asleep. But then, she paused. Something smelled... delicious. She sniffed the air again. Butter? Eggs? Her brows furrowed.
Was she dreaming?
Still cradling Ian, she made her way toward the kitchen, the hem of her nightgown brushing against her ankles.
Her steps slowed as she reached the doorway.
Kim stood by the stove in a dark T-shirt and soft pajama pants, flipping pancakes with a spatula. The sunlight made his hair look almost golden. He turned around just then and saw her standing there. His eyes lit up, and a smile — warm, hopeful, and real — spread across his face.
“How did I do?” he asked, nodding toward the food.
Jane blinked. It felt surreal.
“You… cooked this?” she asked softly.
“Every bit,” he said, lifting the pan slightly in pride. “Even the juice is fresh.”
She stepped forward, still rocking Ian gently, and looked over the table. Scrambled eggs, golden pancakes, grilled tomatoes, buttered toast, fruit slices. It looked like something out of a magazine.
“I’m… honestly impressed,” she said, unable to hide her surprise. “You did really well, Kim.”
At that moment, Ian reached out his arms toward his father, babbling in his baby voice. Kim stepped closer, a small grin playing on his lips.
“Come here, buddy,” he murmured, scooping Ian into his arms with ease.
Ian giggled — that pure, heart-melting sound — and nuzzled into Kim’s shoulder. Kim planted a soft kiss on his son's hair and looked at Jane.
“Go get ready for breakfast,” he said. “I’ll take care of Ian.”
Jane stood still for a second, unsure what to make of it all. Then she nodded and quietly made her way to the bathroom.
Inside, she stared at her reflection. Her hair was a mess, and sleep still clung to the corners of her eyes. She turned on the tap and splashed cold water on her face.
Then, she did something she hadn’t done in years. She lightly slapped her own cheek.
“Still here,” she whispered to herself, blinking hard. “Still real.”
As she reached for a towel, her thoughts drifted to the night before. The way Kim had stumbled in drunk, distant, angry. He had refused to let her help him. He’d pushed her aside with words that cut deeper than knives.
“You tricked me into this life,” he had muttered. “I don’t even know if I wanted any of this.”
She had gone to bed with tears soaking her pillow. Now, barely eight hours later, he was in the kitchen making pancakes.
Was he trying to change?
Was it guilt?
Hope was dangerous and she’d learned that the hard way. But something in Kim’s eyes… something had looked different.
She dressed slowly — a white blouse, jeans, a touch of lip balm. Nothing fancy, but neat enough. She didn’t want to read too much into it, but her heart ached with cautious anticipation.
Back in the dining room, Kim sat feeding Ian tiny bits of banana. The baby laughed between bites, and Kim chuckled with him, playfully making silly faces.
Jane sat across from them, watching quietly.
The food tasted as good as it smelled. Every bite warmed her from the inside, but her heart was the most confused thing of all. Her fingers lingered on the fork longer than necessary. She didn’t know how to speak yet.
Halfway through the meal, Kim reached across the table and took her hand in his.
Jane looked up, startled.
“Jane,” he said softly. “About last night…”
She froze.
“I was drunk,” he started. “But that doesn’t excuse anything. Not the things I said. Not how I treated you.”
Her fingers tensed in his. She stayed silent, her breath catching.
“I’ve been drowning for a while,” Kim admitted, eyes never leaving hers. “And instead of reaching out, I pushed away the only person who loved me without question.”
A lump formed in her throat.
“I’ve hated myself for a lot of things,” he went on, voice thickening, “but what I did to you... that’s the one thing I wake up regretting.”
She blinked rapidly, fighting tears.
Kim gave a broken laugh. “I messed up. I know that. But when I saw you holding Ian this morning, looking so peaceful… I realized I could lose both of you. And I don’t want that. I never did.”
He looked down for a moment, then back at her.
“I love you, Jane. I do. I’ve just been too proud and too stupid to show it the way you deserve.”
A tear slipped down her cheek. She didn’t wipe it away.
“I’m not perfect,” Kim whispered. “But I want to be better. For you. For Ian. For us.”
Ian made a gurgling sound, as if echoing his father's words. Kim smiled and kissed his son’s soft cheek.
Jane finally found her voice. “You hurt me,” she said, barely audible.
“I know,” he said. “I will spend the rest of my life making it right.”
She stood slowly, walked over to his side of the table, and wrapped her arms around both him and Ian.
Her tears soaked his shirt.
“I was so scared to hope,” she whispered.
“You don’t have to be scared anymore,” Kim replied. “I’m here. I’m really here now.”
They stayed like that, all three of them holding onto each other — not speaking, just breathing together. A family, fragile but real.
For the first time in a long, long while, Jane let herself believe.