Chapter 2
Morning arrived like torture. I'd spent the night staring at the ceiling, the image of that boarding pass playing on repeat in my head.
At 3 AM, I heard Adam shift in his sleep. He'd been sleeping so soundly while my world was falling apart.
When the alarm went off at 7:00, my eyes were gritty and stinging. But I forced myself up anyway—because that's what I did. Pretend everything was fine until it felt true.
In the kitchen, Adam was already there, coffee in one hand, eyes glued to his phone.
Tension hung between us, but Sophie was oblivious, swinging her legs while she waited for me to pack her lunch.
"Work calls starting this early?" My voice sounded normal.
Too normal. Like I hadn't spent the entire night crying.
"Time zones," he said without looking up. "You know how it is."
Liar. I'd watched Adam work long enough to know better.
His phone rang, and I caught the name before he turned away: Caroline.
"I need to take this." He walked toward the balcony, voice already softening in that intimate way I'd thought was mine.
Sophie bit into her toast, oblivious. "Daddy talks to Mommy every morning now."
I kept my voice casual. "Does he?"
"Uh-huh. He uses his special voice." She swung her legs thoughtfully. "Oh, and remember the other night when you asked if I had bad dreams? Daddy was the one making noise. He kept saying 'Caroline' over and over."
That explained why I'd slept so restlessly.
Adam's head snapped toward us through the glass. Our eyes met, guilt flickering across his face.
He ended the call and came back inside. "I'll be late tonight. Some things to handle."
I nodded, forcing a smile. "Of course."
As he disappeared into the elevator, that familiar ache settled in my chest.
Another day of pretending everything was normal.
Central Park buzzed with autumn activity, but I barely noticed. Sophie pumped her legs on the swing while I stood behind her, lost in thought.
Around us, families played together—normal people who didn't have to pretend.
"Maya," Sophie said suddenly, "Mommy called last night. She asked about you."
My hands faltered on the next push. "She did?"
"She wanted to know if you're nice to me, if you make me happy." Sophie twisted to look at me, "I told her you're like a real mommy. That you love me and Daddy loves you, so we're a family."
The swing slowed as I stopped pushing. "Sophie..."
"That's what families are, right? People who love each other and live together?"
I wanted to tell her it wasn't that simple. That love could be messy and unfair. That sometimes people use love as a bandage for wounds that won't heal.
Instead, I said, "Sweetheart, you know I'm just your tutor, right?"
Her face fell. "But you live with us. And Daddy holds your hand when he thinks I'm not looking."
How much had this kid seen?
"Adults are messy, Sophie."
"But caring is love, isn't it?" Out of the mouths of children.
All afternoon, I wrestled with myself.
Part of me wanted to hide and nurse my wounds. But the other part—the fighter who'd clawed her way this far—refused to go down without a fight.
It was Adam's birthday. If I was going to lose him to Caroline anyway, at least I could force him to face what he was throwing away.
By 7:00 PM, I'd set the dining room perfectly. Candles, wine, his favorite tiramisu. I even wore the blue dress he'd once said made my eyes shine.
One last chance. One final test to see if there was anything real between us.
I checked the gift I'd prepared. The vintage Omega I'd found at an estate sale lay wrapped in tissue pape and ready.
The elevator dinged at 7:30, and I smoothed my dress, heart hammering.
Adam walked in with the enthusiasm of someone facing root canal. His tie was already loosened, and he barely glanced at the candles, the wine, the effort I'd put into everything.
"Happy birthday," I said, trying to inject warmth into the words.
His eyes swept the room with what looked like annoyance. "Maya, what's all this?"
"It's your birthday. So I wanted to..."
"You didn't need to..." He was already pulling out his phone, checking messages. "Look, I appreciate the thought, but—"
"Adam." I stepped closer, placed my hand on his arm. "It's your birthday. Can't we just have dinner? And talk?"
He looked at me then, really looked, and I saw something cold flicker across his face. "About what?"
The question hung between us like a challenge. About LA. About Caroline. About what I mean to you beyond convenient sex and childcare.
Instead, I said, "Us."
"Maya." His voice went gentle in that careful way that preceded rejection. "We've talked about this. What we have works. Let's not mess with it."
"Mess with it?" The words came out sharper than I intended. "Is that what caring about someone is to you? Something to avoid?"
"We have an arrangement—"
"Fuck your arrangement!" The words exploded out of me. "I'm not some service you subscribe to, Adam. I'm a person. I have feelings."
His jaw tightened. "And I've been clear about what I can offer."
"Great sex and a nice apartment?" I laughed, but it came out broken. "How generous of you."
"Maya—"
"No." I stepped back, "You know what? Forget it. All of this."
I started blowing out candles, hands shaking. The romantic atmosphere I'd worked so hard to create felt like a bad joke now.
"Maya, stop." His hand caught my wrist. "You're overreacting."
"Am I?" I turned to face him. "Tell me something, Adam. When you went to LA last week, did you tell Caroline about me?"
His silence was answer enough.
"Right. Because I don't exist in your real life, do I? I'm just the help who happens to sleep in your bed."
"That's not—"
"True? Then prove it. Tell me what I am to you. Not the arrangement, not the convenience. What am I?"
He stared at me for a long moment before making his choice, "You're Sophie's tutor," he said quietly. "And you're very good at your job."
The words hit like a physical blow. I nodded slowly, feeling my dignity drain away.
"Got it."
I walked past him toward my room, but his voice stopped me at the doorway.
"Maya, don't make this more difficult than it has to be."
I didn't turn around. "Wouldn't dream of it, Mr. Sterling."
I escaped to my room, but sleep was impossible.
At 11:45 PM, I lay staring at the ceiling, listening to Adam's muffled voice through the thin wall.
He was on the phone again. With her.
"Caroline, I know this is challenging... but Sophie needs us both."
I pressed my ear to the wall, hating myself but unable to stop.
"I've been thinking about what you said last week... about trying again."
My heart stopped.
"I can wait until you're ready. We have history, we have Sophie... these things matter."
History. What I'd never have with him. The shared memories, the rightful place, the story that made sense to everyone else.
And I was just a detour in their real story.
"I miss what we had," he continued, his voice softer than I'd ever heard it with me. "Maybe we just hit a rough patch."
The conversation continued, but I'd heard enough. I rolled onto my side, pulling a pillow over my head to muffle my crying.
Eighteen months of lying to myself. Eighteen months of thinking I actually mattered to him. Eighteen months of being a complete fool.
How could I have been so naive to think a successful man would give up everything for someone like me? Give up his past, his family, the life he was supposed to have?
At 12:30 AM, familiar footsteps stopped outside my door. The soft knock that usually made my pulse race.
"Maya? I know you're awake."
I closed my eyes tight. "I don't feel good tonight, Adam."
"Come on, open up. Let me check on you."
"I just need sleep."
A pause. Then his voice got that edge. "You're acting like a child."
The words hit, but I stayed put. "I really need to sleep."
"Maya." Now there was real irritation. "I hope you're not trying to punish me or something."
Punish him. Right. Like I had that kind of power.
"No punishment. Just tired."
His footsteps moved away, and I could feel his frustration through the door.
Good. Let him feel what it's like when someone doesn't just fall in line.
The next morning, there was a note on the kitchen counter: [Back Sunday. Keep Sophie on her regular schedule. -A]
That was it. No explanation, no sweetness. Just orders.
I crumpled the note and something clicked.
I was done with this shit.
