CHAPTER 190

CHAPTER 189
SAMANTHA POV

It was night.

The room was bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. The baby slept peacefully in the crib, his chest rising and falling in a slow, perfect rhythm. I stood there, staring at that tiny life I had brought into the world. My heart ached in a way I couldn’t explain — a mixture of a love so overwhelming it felt suffocating and a fear that consumed me from within.

In the bed, the baby’s father slept deeply, his face relaxed, completely unaware of the storm raging inside me. I returned to the desk, the pen trembling between my fingers. Tears fell onto the paper, blurring the words I was writing with so much effort.

My love,

By the time you read this letter, I will already be gone. I tried. God knows I tried to be the mother you deserve. But I can’t. I’m too young, too lost, too broken. I love you more than anything in this world, but this love isn’t enough to make me stay. I don’t know how to be a mother. I don’t know how to be a wife. I’m just… me. And I’m broken.

Forgive me.

The tears soaked the paper, turning the ink into small dark rivers. I folded the letter carefully, as if I were folding my own heart, and placed it in the corner of the crib, under the teddy bear. I leaned over the baby, breathing in his sweet scent of milk and talcum powder. I kissed his warm forehead, lingering there, etching that moment into my soul.

“Mommy loves you,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “She will always love you.”

My chest shattered in two.

I turned to leave. I took one step. Then another.

That’s when the crying started.

A deep, desperate cry, as if the baby knew exactly what I was doing. I stopped at the door, hand on the doorknob, my entire body shaking. I thought about going back. About picking him up, telling him I would stay, that I would try. But I didn’t.

I left.

The crying followed me down the hallway, growing louder and louder, more and more accusing.

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I woke up with a start, my body covered in sweat, heart racing.

I was in my huge bed, alone. More than a decade later. In my real life.

I took a deep breath, running my hands over my face. It was just a dream. An old, recurring dream that always returned whenever I felt like I was about to lose everything again. But that cry… that cry was the same one I had heard the night before, when I tried to console Lily after Doug stormed out of the house, slamming the door.

I got up slowly. The room was silent. Doug wasn’t there. His side of the bed remained neatly made, cold. I went to the bathroom, washed my face with cold water, brushed my teeth, and got ready for work on autopilot — light makeup, hair tied back, elegant outfit. Every movement felt mechanical, as if I were dressing for a role I no longer knew how to play.

I went downstairs.

The kitchen felt bigger that morning. And empty. And sad.

I stood at the doorway for a moment, looking at the table. Just a few months ago, this kitchen had life. Lily laughing at something Samuel said. Doug making coffee while complaining about traffic. Me in the middle, trying to keep the peace between the two young people who were constantly teasing each other. After Samuel’s father passed away, the house had been given a new chance. My first marriage had been cold and distant — silent dinners, superficial conversations. With Doug, for the first time, I felt like I had a real family.

Even with the fights between Lily and Samuel. Even with all the complications.

And now… now everything was falling apart.

I walked over to the coffee maker and prepared my coffee. The sound of the machine was the only noise in the house. While I waited, Lily appeared in the kitchen doorway, still in her pajamas, eyes swollen from lack of sleep.

“Good morning,” I said, trying to smile. “Did you sleep well?”

Lily shook her head and sat down at the table.

“No.”

I poured coffee for her too, even though I knew she probably wouldn’t drink it. We sat facing each other. The silence was heavy, but not uncomfortable. It was the silence of two people who had spent the night crying together.

After coffee, I drove Lily to school. The ride was quiet. She stared out the window while I drove with my hands gripping the steering wheel. When I stopped in front of the gate, I held her hand before she could get out.

“Lily… we’ll figure this out. I promise.”

She nodded but said nothing. She got out of the car and walked into the school with her shoulders slumped.

I stayed there, parked, watching her until she disappeared among the other students. Then I thought: I can’t lose my family completely. Not again.

I drove aimlessly for a few minutes. Then I pulled over on a quiet street and rested my forehead on the steering wheel.

I needed to do something. I needed to fix this. I needed to bring Doug back, protect Lily, find a way to deal with her pregnancy and Ashley’s. I needed to be the mother I had promised to be so many years ago.

Because, in the end, that’s what I had always been.

A mother willing to do anything — even destroy herself — to protect her children.

And I couldn’t bear to lose anyone else.

Not again.