Kayden's laughter was the first thing Astrid heard that morning, bright and unburdened, echoing down the hall like sunlight spilling through heavy drapes. When he appeared in the doorway, dressed neatly in his little school uniform, his satchel bouncing against his side, Astrid's heart clenched with a warmth she almost didn't trust herself to feel.
"Daddy! Look!" he announced proudly, spinning in a half-circle, his small hands tugging at the hem of his blazer as though it were royal armor. "Mommy dressed me today."
Astrid froze where she stood, caught in the open space of the living room as his words reached Kyle like arrows. She watched, too aware of the man on the couch, shoulders broad and posture still as stone, his face unreadable. For a terrifying heartbeat she expected denial, suspicion, some razor-edged remark. Instead, Kyle's lips curved—just slightly.
He patted Kayden's hair. "You look smart, son. Go eat your breakfast."
Kayden beamed, bouncing off toward the dining table. Relief loosened Astrid's chest. It was only when Kyle's gaze shifted, finally landing on her, that her breath faltered again.
The weight of his eyes was unbearable. She felt stripped down to her bones, though his expression betrayed nothing—no anger, no approval. Only silence.
Astrid clasped her hands in front of her, forcing words into the space before it suffocated her. "Thank you… for letting me dress him." Her voice came out softer than she intended, almost unsure.
Kyle stood slowly, his height drawing the air from the room. He moved closer, enough that she could see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw, the cold perfection of a man who rarely let life leave its mark. "You did well," he said at last. "your mother left already. She was in a hurry."
It was a lie. Astrid knew it in her gut. She didn't challenge it. She only nodded, holding onto the small gift that he hadn't corrected Kayden, hadn't reminded the boy of the fractures between them.
At the table, Kayden swung his legs beneath the chair, humming to himself between bites of toast. The domesticity of it all felt like a fragile illusion, one wrong word away from shattering. Astrid took a seat across from him, her eyes fixed on her son's glowing smile while every nerve in her body remained acutely aware of Kyle's presence beside her.
The silence between them was thick, the kind that scraped against the skin. Every clink of a spoon, every swallow seemed amplified. Astrid wanted to speak—about the weather, about Kayden's school—but the words stuck, dried up by the heat of Kyle's nearness.
When breakfast ended, Kyle pushed back his chair with a quiet scrape, already reaching for his keys. "Come on, Kayden. We'll be late."
Kayden jumped down, his bag thumping against his back as he darted to Astrid. His arms wrapped tightly around her waist. "Bye, Mommy!"
Astrid bent to kiss his cheek, inhaling the faint scent of soap and milk on his skin. It should have ended there. But Kayden's mischievous grin widened as he looked between them.
"Mommy, you forgot Daddy!"
Her head snapped up, blood draining from her face. "What?"
Kayden tugged her hand insistently. "You kissed me, now kiss Daddy too!"
The air cracked.
Astrid's eyes flew to Kyle. He stood utterly still, his keys glinting in his hand, his expression unreadable. If he felt anything, he buried it behind that wall of marble composure. The longer he said nothing, the more her panic swelled.
"Kayden…" She crouched, voice desperate but low. "That's not… it's not necessary."
Her son pouted, crossing his arms. "It is! Families kiss goodbye. Mommy, you have to."
Her stomach churned. Her mouth went dry. The little boy had no idea the battlefield he'd dragged her onto.
Kyle's silence was worse than anger. It was an abyss, daring her to step forward.
Astrid's pulse hammered in her ears. She forced her legs to move, each step toward him heavy as lead. By the time she reached him, her palms were clammy, her knees weak. He didn't flinch, didn't lower himself. The height difference forced her to tiptoe, every inch closing between them feeling like the edge of a cliff.
Please, God.
Her lips brushed his cheek—so light she wasn't sure it happened at all. But her heart was thrashing, loud enough she was sure he could hear it.
He didn't move. Not a twitch. His scent—sharp, clean, expensive—filled her senses. His skin was warm beneath her lips. Too warm. She pulled back, nearly stumbling.
Kayden clapped happily, oblivious. "See? Now it's fair!"
Kyle finally blinked, slipping the keys into his pocket. "Let's go," was all he said.
Astrid stood frozen as father and son walked to the door. When it closed behind them, she exhaled sharply, her hand pressed to her chest as though to steady the wild, erratic beating within. Relief, shame, something dangerously sweet—they all tangled inside her.
But movement caught her eye.
Natalie.
The maid passed quickly through the hall, clutching a laundry bag to her chest as though it were a shield. She turned toward the laundry room, her head bowed low. Something in the stiffness of her shoulders tugged at Astrid.
Without thinking, Astrid followed.
"Natalie," she called softly.
The girl startled, the laundry bag slipping from her grasp. Clothes spilled across the tiled floor, fluttering like wounded birds. Natalie gasped, immediately dropping to her knees to gather them. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" Her voice cracked, trembling with fear.
Astrid knelt beside her. "It's all right. You don't need to—"
"Please," Natalie whispered, eyes shining with tears she desperately tried to blink away. "Please don't…"
Astrid froze. "Don't what?"
Natalie flinched at her tone, shaking her head as she pressed a crumpled shirt to her chest. But Astrid's hand found the girl's wrist, gently but firmly.
"Why are you afraid of me?"
The words seemed to slice through whatever fragile dam Natalie had built. Her lips parted, and the horror in her eyes spoke before her voice did.
"Because of what you did to me," she breathed.
Astrid's body chilled. "What I… did?"
Natalie's tears spilled then, her voice small, breaking. "That night. When I dropped the vase in the hallway. You—" She shook her head, choking on the memory. "You grabbed me. You wouldn't stop shouting. You pushed me against the wall until I couldn't breathe. You—" Her hands trembled, clutching the shirt tighter. "You said you'd ruin me. That no one would believe me if I spoke. You laughed while I cried."
The world tilted. Astrid couldn't breathe.
She wanted to scream that it wasn't her—that it was Ember, the woman whose face she wore like a mask. But the words caught in her throat, heavy with the futility of truth no one would accept.
Natalie's tears fell freely now, splattering the fabric in her hands. "So please… please just let me work. Don't hurt me again."
Astrid sat back, numb, her heart hollowed by shame that wasn't hers yet burned her all the same.
What kind of monster had Ember been?
And how long could Astrid keep living inside her sins?