Chapter 165 Playing House
Elena： POV
After Lila's cellulitis finally cleared up, she announced this morning that she was ready to go back to school.
I was wrong about keeping her home longer.
This morning, she appeared in the kitchen doorway at seven-thirty, already dressed in her favorite purple jumper with the unicorn patch, her backpack clutched in both hands.
"Mama, I want to go to school today."
I looked up from my coffee, my mind still reeling from yesterday's confrontation with Julian at the hospital. The image of his face—older, weathered, but unmistakably him—kept flashing through my thoughts like a broken film reel.
"Baby, your infection just cleared up. Don't you want to rest one more day?"
"I'm all better." She dropped the backpack and rushed over, wrapping her small arms around my legs. "And I miss Miss Caroline and Emma and—" She tilted her head back, brown eyes wide and pleading. "Please, Mama? I promise I feel good."
I crouched down, pressing the back of my hand to her forehead, trying to focus on the present moment instead of the chaos in my head. Cool. No fever, no more angry red streaks on her leg.
"Alright," I conceded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "But if you start feeling bad, you tell Miss Caroline immediately, okay?"
"Okay!" She bounced on her toes, then suddenly grabbed my hand and tugged me toward the hallway. "Come on, Mama. You have to take me."
I blinked. "Sweetheart, Thomas usually drives you—"
"No." Her grip tightened, surprisingly strong for such small fingers. "I want you to take me. And Daddy too." She was already pulling me toward Alexander's study, her other hand reaching out. "Daddy! Daddy, come here!"
The door opened. Alexander emerged, phone in hand, and I immediately noticed the tension in his shoulders.
Lila immediately latched onto his leg with her free hand, creating a bridge between us.
"Daddy, Mama, I want you both to take me to school today." She looked up at us with that expression—the one that turned her eyes into liquid gold. "Please? I really, really want you to walk me in together. Like Emma's parents do. Please?"
My chest tightened. The request felt loaded now, weighted with everything that had shifted yesterday.
"Alexander, do you have time?" I kept my voice neutral, careful. "If not, I can take her myself. I know you have that conference call—"
He cut me off by reaching down and taking my hand in his. The gesture was too quick, too desperate, his fingers gripping mine tighter than necessary.
"Let's go," he said, his voice carrying an edge I'd never heard before. "We'll take my two best girls to school."
The possessive emphasis on my made something cold crawl up my spine.
But Lila's face lit up like Christmas morning, and I couldn't bring myself to pull away.
---
The drive to Little Scholars Montessori was tense beneath the surface of Lila's cheerful chatter about volcanoes and Emma's exploding science project.
Alexander's hands gripped the steering wheel too tightly, and I caught him glancing at me in the rearview mirror more than once.
We pulled up to the school's cheerful yellow facade. Alexander opened my door while I unbuckled Lila, his hand briefly touching my lower back.
Lila bounced out, grabbed both our hands, and dragged us toward the entrance.
Miss Caroline stood at the classroom door, greeting students. "Lila! We missed you, sweetheart. The infection's all cleared up?"
"All better!" Lila hugged her teacher, then spun back to us.
She stepped close to Alexander first, rose up on her tiptoes, and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Love you, Daddy."
"Love you too, princess." His voice was soft, but his eyes never left my face.
Then she turned to me, and I bent down so she could reach. Her lips pressed against my cheek—sticky with strawberry lip balm.
"Love you, Mama."
"Love you more, baby girl." I smoothed down her hair, trying to ignore the weight of Alexander's stare. "Remember—if you feel sick, tell Miss Caroline. I'll pick you up this afternoon, okay?"
"Okay!" She was already eyeing the classroom where Emma was waving frantically. "Can I go now?"
I laughed despite the tension. "Go."
She disappeared into the room without a backward glance.
Miss Caroline straightened, giving us both a warm smile. "She's such a sweetheart. You two are doing a wonderful job raising her together."
---
Alexander started the engine, and we pulled into traffic. For several minutes, neither of us spoke. The silence wasn't comfortable—it was thick, weighted with everything we weren't saying.
Finally, he broke it.
"Have you thought about having another child?"
I jerked my head toward him, startled. "What?"
His eyes stayed on the road, but his jaw was tight. "Another baby. For Lila. She'd probably love a little brother or sister."
My mouth went dry. "Why are you asking this now?"
"Because she's getting older." He changed lanes, voice carefully measured. "Because siblings are good for development." A pause. "Because I want to give you that. A complete family."
A complete family. As if we weren't already playing at one.
"I don't know," I said slowly. "I haven't really thought about it."
"Maybe you should."
The car stopped at a red light. In the sudden stillness, Alexander turned to look at me, and there was something in his eyes—something desperate that made my skin prickle.
"Elena—"
He leaned in. I shifted back against the door, heart hammering.
"Alexander, don't—"
He stopped, jaw clenching. The light turned green. Someone honked behind us.
He drove, his hands gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary.
"You're going to have to learn to adjust," he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the engine. "To this. To us. To being in a relationship."
"I know." My voice came out smaller than I intended. "I know that. But you said you wouldn't push me."
His knuckles were white against the wheel now. "I'm not pushing. I'm just—" He exhaled hard, the sound sharp in the confined space. "I'm trying to be patient, Elena. I've been patient for four years.”
"I'm sorry," Alexander said finally, his voice rough around the edges. "You're right. I promised I wouldn't push, and I meant it."
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
Another silence, longer this time. The car slowed as we approached my building.
"Can I ask you something?" His voice was quieter now, almost vulnerable.
"Okay."
"Do you feel anything for me? Physically, I mean." He wasn't looking at me now, eyes fixed on the road ahead. "Any attraction at all?"