I barely made it home before the sitter left. She gave me a quick wave, said Sophia was already in bed reading her whale book, and slipped out the door with a polite "Have a good night, Mrs. Thompson." The apartment felt too quiet after she left. Rain still tapped against the windows like it wasn't ready to quit.
I kicked off my ruined shoes in the foyer, hung my soaked coat on the hook, and padded down the hall in wet socks. Sophia's door was cracked open, soft yellow light spilling out. I pushed it wider.
She was curled on her side, the big hardcover whale encyclopedia open on her lap, eyes half-closed but fighting to stay awake.
"Mom?" Her voice was sleepy-soft.
"Hey, mermaid queen." I sat on the edge of her bed, brushed a curl off her forehead. "You're supposed to be asleep."
"I was waiting for you." She yawned. "Did you get caught in the rain?"
"Yeah. Got pretty wet." I smiled, even though my chest still felt tight from the coffee shop. "But I'm okay now."
She studied my face a second too long. Kids notice everything. "You look… different."
"Different how?"
"Like when you're thinking really hard." She closed the book, set it on the nightstand. "Is Dad home yet?"
"Not yet. Working late again."
She nodded, like she expected that answer. "He always works late."
I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I know, baby. I'm sorry."
She reached out and hugged me quick, fiercely. "It's okay. I like when it's just us anyway."
I hugged her back, breathing in the strawberry shampoo smell that always calmed me. "Me too."
I tucked her in, kissed her forehead, turned off the lamp. She was asleep before I reached the door.
In the living room I sank onto the couch, still damp, still shaking a little. My phone buzzed on the coffee table. Alexander.
You get home safe?
I typed back: Yes. Thank you for the tea. And for listening.
His reply came fast: Anytime. Saturday still on?
I stared at the words. My thumb hovered.
Yes.
I hit send before I could second-guess it.
Then I dropped the phone like it burned me.
I needed to talk to someone who wouldn't judge. Someone who'd known me before I became this careful, quiet version of myself.
I picked up the phone again and texted Lila.
Can you come over? Like now?
Her reply: On my way. Bringing wine and zero patience for bullshit.
Twenty minutes later she was at my door, black trench coat dripping, bottle of red in one hand, takeout bag in the other.
She took one look at me, wet hair, red-rimmed eyes, and pulled me into a hug without a word. She smelled like rain and expensive perfume.
We ended up on the living room floor, backs against the couch, wine glasses in hand, Thai food spread out on the coffee table. Sophia's door stayed closed. The apartment was dark except for the lamp in the corner.
"Okay," Lila said after her first big sip. "Spill. You look like you just robbed a bank and got away with it. Or like you're about to."
I laughed shaky, but real. "I met him."
Her eyes went wide. "Alexander? Today?"
"Coffee shop. Two blocks from here. He saw my location on some old app we used to have. Texted me. I said yes."
She set her glass down hard. "You went."
"I went."
"And?"
I stared at the carpet. "He remembered I like chamomile when I'm stressed. He listened. Really listened. Held my hand across the table. Told me he still loves me. Has never stopped."
Lila let out a long breath. "Jesus."
"Yeah."
She took another sip. "And how did that feel?"
"Like waking up after a really long sleep. Like someone turned the color back on." I looked at her. "But also like I'm cheating just by sitting there. Like I'm already betraying Marcus. Betraying Sophia."
Lila didn't rush to answer. She thought about it. "You're not cheating yet. You talked. You held hands. That's… a lot. But it's not crossing the line. Not physically."
"Emotionally?"
"Emotionally you've been crossing lines for years. Every time you pretend everything's fine. Every time you smile when he forgets another promise. Every time you go to bed alone while he's still working."
Tears slipped down my cheeks. I didn't wipe them away.
"I don't want to hurt anyone," I whispered.
"I know." She scooted closer, put her arm around me. "But staying in a marriage that's starving you is hurting you. And it's hurting Sophia too. She sees it. Kids always see it."
"She asked tonight if it's okay that it's just us sometimes. Said she likes it better that way."
Lila's jaw tightened. "That's not a kid who feels secure."
I nodded. Couldn't speak.
She squeezed my shoulder. "You deserve to feel wanted, Elena. Not tolerated. Not managed. Wanted. The way he looked at you tonight? That's what you used to have. That's what you still deserve."
"But Marcus…"
"Marcus is a good dad when he shows up. He's stable. He pays the bills. But he's not your partner anymore. He's your roommate with a shared kid and a ring."
I laughed through the tears. "That's harsh."
"It's true." She topped off my glass. "Look. You don't have to decide everything tonight. Or even this week. But don't lie to yourself about what you felt sitting across from Alexander. Don't pretend it was nothing."
"It wasn't nothing."
"Then don't treat it like nothing."
We sat quiet for a while. Rain still tapping the windows. Wine warming my stomach.
"I told him I'd see him at the gala," I said finally.
Lila grinned slow. "Good."
"I'm terrified."
"I know." She clinked her glass against mine. "But terrified is better than numb."
I took a long sip.
She was right.
Numb was what I'd been for too long.
And tonight, for the first time in years, I wasn't numb.
I was scared. Guilty. Alive.
And I wasn't sure I could go back to sleepwalking through my own life.
Not anymore.