The contracted wife who left first

The restaurant Elias chose was quiet—intimate.

Tucked away from the bustling city centre, it was the kind of place one wouldn't associate with a man like him. No paparazzi. No velvet ropes. Just warm lighting, soft jazz, and the scent of rosemary and red wine hanging gently in the air.

Aria arrived exactly on time.

She wore a navy dress that hugged her curves but didn't scream for attention. Her hair was pulled into a low bun. Simple. Clean. Intentional.

Elias was already seated at a corner table. When their eyes met, he stood.

"You came," he said softly.

"I said I would."

He gestured for her to sit. "Thank you."

They sat opposite each other, a candle flickering between them.

For a while, they said nothing.

A waiter approached, took their orders, and vanished with the ease of someone trained to disappear.

Then it was just the two of them—no boardroom, no contracts, no pretences.

"Aria," Elias began, leaning forward, "I want to know the truth. No more shadows."

She looked down at her water glass. Her fingers were trembling.

"What do you think you know?" she asked.

"I think," he said carefully, "that you didn't just leave because of the contract. I think something happened. Something you never told me."

She swallowed. "You're right."

His jaw tightened slightly. "Is it about the boy?"

Aria's heart skipped.

Eli.

There it was.

She could deny it.

She could lie.

But she didn't want to. Not anymore.

"Yes," she whispered.

His hand clenched into a fist. "Is he…?"

"Yes," she said before he could ask. "He's your son."

Silence dropped like a thunderclap.

Elias stared at her, every emotion he'd ever hidden surfacing in the storm of his eyes—shock, betrayal, grief, longing.

"You had my son," he said, voice raw. "And you never told me?"

"I was pregnant when I left," she said, voice trembling. "I found out days after I tore the contract. I tried to come back. I came to your office, but they said you were in Europe. I wrote letters. Called. I didn't know you had changed numbers."

"You didn't think to try again?"

"I did," she said. "But by then, I convinced myself you didn't want me… or anything that came from me. And I wanted to protect Eli."

"From me?" His voice cracked.

"No," she whispered. "From becoming like you."

That stung. She saw it in the way he flinched.

"I'm sorry," she added, tears brimming. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

"Then how did you mean it?"

"I meant… you were cold. Distant. Business-first. You didn't even look at me like I was real, not until the very end. I was afraid he'd inherit that part of you. That he'd grow up thinking love had to be earned by silence and perfection."

Elias sat back, his eyes wet but blinking it away. "Does he know?"

"No. Just that his dad isn't around."

"And now?"

Aria paused. "I don't know. He's only four. I don't know how to tell him. I didn't want him to be confused or feel abandoned."

Elias exhaled shakily. "You should have told me."

"I know."

"Do you love him?"

Aria blinked. "He's my son, Elias. Of course I love him."

He shook his head. "I mean me. Do you still love me?"

She froze.

It felt like the world held its breath with her.

"I… I don't know," she said honestly. "I never stopped. But I also never healed."

He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. "Did I hurt you that much?"

"You didn't mean to," she said. "But yes. I felt invisible. Like I was just… fulfilling an agreement."

"I was afraid to care too much," he admitted. "I thought if I showed you how much I wanted you, you'd see me as weak."

She gave a hollow laugh. "Weak? Elias, all I ever wanted was for you to be real with me. Vulnerable. But you built walls, and I kept bleeding trying to climb them."

"I didn't know how to be that man," he whispered. "But maybe I do now."

They stared at each other, the candlelight dancing between them like a hesitant bridge.

"Tell me about him," Elias said quietly.

"Eli?" Her face softened. "He loves dinosaurs. Roars like one when he's excited. He sleeps with a blue stuffed giraffe named Mr. Snuggles. And he hates carrots."

Elias smiled faintly. "Smart kid."

"He is. Too smart sometimes. He asks a lot of questions. Hard ones."

"What does he think about his dad?"

"He… he says maybe his daddy lives in the clouds." Her voice wavered. "He says he hopes one day he'll fly down and play football with him."

Elias looked away. Pain etched his expression. "I missed so much."

"You did. But not by choice," she said softly. "I kept you away."

"But I would've stayed," he said. "If I'd known. If I'd had even a clue, I would've fought to be there."

"I know. That's what makes this harder."

They paused as the waiter returned with their food—grilled salmon for her, seared steak for him. Wine was poured, but neither reached for their glasses.

"Does he look like me?" Elias asked after the waiter left.

Aria smiled slightly. "Too much. Same eyes. Same brooding frown when he's thinking."

"That frown isn't brooding," he said defensively. "It's contemplative."

"Sure," she said with a smirk. "Whatever helps you sleep."

He chuckled softly. It surprised them both.

"I missed that," he said.

"What?"

"Your sarcasm. The way you could slice through my armor without ever raising your voice."

She looked at him for a long time. "You used to love that. Then you started treating it like a flaw."

"I was stupid," he admitted. "I pushed away the only person who ever challenged me in the right ways."

Aria took a small bite of her food, then put her fork down. "What are you really trying to say, Elias?"

He hesitated. "I want to be part of his life. If you'll let me."

She didn't respond right away.

"Not because you feel guilty?" she asked.

"No. Because I've lost enough already."

Her voice was barely a whisper. "I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"Of letting you in and having to watch you leave again. Of Eli asking why his daddy stopped visiting. Of trying to explain heartbreak to a child who doesn't even understand why the moon disappears sometimes."

He reached across the table again, this time resting his hand on hers without hesitation.

"Then don't do it alone," he said. "Let me earn my place in his life. In yours."

"I don't want promises you can't keep."

"Then I won't promise. I'll show you. Every day."

Tears welled in her eyes, but she didn't pull her hand away.

"Start with small steps," she said. "Start by meeting him."

"When?"

She wiped her cheek. "Tomorrow. He's home by three."

Elias nodded, his grip tightening slightly. "I'll be there."

They didn't speak much after that. Just sat in the quiet, sharing food and memory and pain.

But something had shifted.

The truth was out.

And with it, maybe—just maybe—hope.