Chapter 2 Willow

The ride home was painfully quiet. The city outside blurred into streaks of gray and silver rain, but inside the car, the silence was thick and heavy. Elias sat beside me, staring down at his phone, the glow from the screen lighting up his face in a detached sort of way. Every few seconds his thumb moved, scrolling through something that seemed to hold all his attention.

I kept my hands folded on my lap, my fingers brushing the folded ultrasound I had tucked inside my purse. I could feel it through the leather, could feel the weight of what it meant. I wanted to tell him right then. I wanted to whisper the words that had been lodged in my throat since the clinic, but every time I looked at his expressionless face, the courage I tried to summon slipped away.

When the car finally pulled up to the Sinclair residence, I almost wished the drive would continue. Going home meant returning to the same cold silence that had defined our marriage for months. The mansion loomed ahead, its tall windows reflecting the storm clouds above. It was a house made of glass and steel, beautiful on the outside but hollow within, much like our relationship.

Wrapping my coat tighter, I followed Elias inside.

The house was immaculate as always. Everything was in its proper place, gleaming and lifeless. Even the light here felt cold, the kind of brightness that didn’t warm.

“Good evening, sir,” came the familiar, clipped tone of Mrs. Grey, the housekeeper. She stood near the dining room entrance, her gray hair tied back neatly. She stepped forward to take Elias’s coat, a warm smile on her face. Then her eyes found me, and that smile faded.

Elias nodded slightly in acknowledgment. “Good evening, Mrs. Grey.”

“Would you like the usual for dinner, sir? Or should I prepare something lighter tonight?”

I stood by the doorway, unsure of what to do as the two of them moved toward the kitchen, already discussing dinner plans.

“Something light,” Elias said after a pause. “Grilled salmon, perhaps. Add a salad.”

Mrs. Grey nodded briskly. “Yes, sir. And for Mrs. Sinclair?”

There was a brief silence before Elias answered. He looked in my direction then, his gaze fleeting and impersonal. “She can have whatever she likes.”

Mrs. Grey inclined her head. “Very well.”

Heat crept into my cheeks, though I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the awkwardness of standing there, listening to them talk about dinner as if I wasn’t in the room. Maybe it was the way Mrs. Grey had asked about me in that careful, neutral tone, as though I were an afterthought.

I wanted to speak up, to thank her or suggest something, but the words never came. Experience had taught me that my opinions in this house carried no weight. Elias rarely acknowledged them, and Mrs. Grey had long made it clear that she viewed me with quiet disapproval.

She had served Elias since his early twenties, had known his family long before I came into the picture. In her eyes, I would always be an outsider who didn’t belong.

“I’ll be in my study for a while,” Elias said as he handed off his coat. “Let me know when dinner is ready.”

“Yes, sir.”

The exchange was brief and practiced, the rhythm of two people who understood each other’s expectations perfectly. I turned away, feeling like a ghost in my own home, and started up the stairs. Each step echoed faintly in the vast space. My body felt heavy, my chest even more so.

Halfway to the landing, I heard the vibration of a phone. The sound was sharp in the quiet hall. I stopped instinctively and looked down.

Elias had taken his phone from his pocket, and for the first time that evening, his features softened. A faint smile curved his lips, small but unmistakable. It was such a rare sight that it caught me completely off guard. My heart gave a strange, painful twist in my chest.

I didn’t need to see the name on the screen to know who it was.

When he answered, his tone confirmed it. “Willow,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, warm in a way it never was with me.

The sound of that name hit me like a blow.

I turned away and continued up the stairs, my hand gripping the banister so tightly my knuckles turned white. Every word he spoke carried clearly through the high-ceilinged foyer. His tone was relaxed, casual, but it held an ease he never used with me.

The call lasted less than a minute. I could tell by the rhythm of his voice that he was smiling again, that his entire demeanor had changed. It wasn’t business. It was personal.

Willow Hart. His best friend. His ex. His first love.

My stomach tightened. The difference in how he spoke to her and how he spoke to me was painful to hear. He had never smiled at me like that. Not in months. Maybe not ever.

When I reached the top of the stairs, I lingered on the landing, staring down at the marble floor below. I could still hear fragments of the conversation before it ended. Then his voice carried clearly once more.

“Mrs. Grey,” he said, stepping out from the kitchen, “my plans have changed. I’ll be heading out for a business meeting after all. Cancel dinner for tonight.”

“Of course, sir.”

I swallowed hard. I wanted to believe he was really heading to a meeting, but I knew Elias well enough to know business wasn’t the reason for the sudden change of plans. Not after that phone call.

A few moments later, he emerged from the kitchen, adjusting the cuffs of his dark coat. He was already dressed to leave. When his gaze lifted and found mine at the top of the stairs, we both froze. For a second, neither of us spoke.

My heart pounded. His eyes, a deep, unreadable gray, flicked briefly toward me before moving away. He looked at me the way one might look at a passing stranger.

“I have a meeting,” he said quietly, his tone measured. “I’ll be back late.”

He turned, not expecting a response. He never did.

I hesitated, torn between silence and the desperate need to speak. My pulse drummed in my ears. Every nerve in my body screamed for me to stop him, to say something, anything.

“Elias,” I said suddenly, my voice cracking slightly.

He stopped mid-step and turned his head toward me. His eyes met mine again, calm and impatient, waiting. “Yes?”

My throat tightened. I wanted to tell him everything. About the doctor, the test, the life growing inside me. About the confusion and fear that had gripped me since the moment I saw that ultrasound. But the words wouldn’t come.

My courage withered under the weight of his cold gaze.

“Remember to take your medication,” I said instead, my voice barely a whisper.

Elias regarded me for a brief moment, unreadable as ever, then simply turned away. He said nothing as he reached for the doorknob. The door opened with a quiet click, and before I could even draw another breath, he was gone.

I stood there on the landing, one hand gripping the railing so tightly my fingers ached. I stared at the closed door below, my chest rising and falling unevenly as I fought back tears.

My vision blurred, but I refused to cry. I had done enough of that already.

I stayed like that for a long time, long after the sound of the car had faded from the driveway.