Not physically.
The pain was still there.
But emotionally?
Something fierce and primal exploded awake inside me.
My son blinked up at me with dark sleepy eyes.
And suddenly every terrible thing I had survived became worth it.
“Hi,” I whispered through tears. “Hi, baby.”
Ethan stood inches away staring at both of us.
I could practically feel his heartbreak.
Then he asked quietly,
“What’s his name?”
I hesitated.
Because this mattered.
More than he knew.
“Lucas,” I said softly.
Ethan’s face crumpled.
I frowned. “What?”
He covered his mouth briefly.
“That was…” His voice broke. “That was the name I picked.”
My breath caught.
Years ago.
Back when we still believed we would grow old together.
We had made a list.
Emma for a girl.
Lucas for a boy.
I had never told anyone.
Ethan stared at me with tears gathering in his eyes.
“You remembered.”
I looked down at the baby.
“I never forgot anything.”
The room fell silent again.
Heavy.
Tender.
Dangerous.
Then the door burst open.
And every ounce of warmth vanished instantly.
“Ethan!”
A shrill familiar voice cut through the room.
My blood turned to ice.
Margaret Chen.
His mother.
Still elegant.
Still perfectly dressed.
Still capable of ruining every room she entered.
Her eyes landed on me.
Then on the baby.
And finally on Ethan.
Confusion flickered across her face.
“What is this?”
Ethan straightened slowly.
The air changed.
Because for the first time since I had ever known him…
He looked angry.
