The contracted wife who left first

The office was quiet—too quiet for a Monday.

Elias Blackwood stood by the tall windows of his corner office.

He wasn't working. Hadn't been for the past hour.

His eyes were on the skyline, but his mind was miles away. Three years away.

Aria.

The name tasted unfamiliar now, like a memory spoken in a language he used to know.

And yet, the moment she'd walked into the boardroom, the past hadn't just returned—it had wrapped around his ribs like iron bands.

He didn't know what shook him more: the fact that she had come back, or the way she had looked at him—as if they had never shared a life. As if he were nothing more than a CEO signing paperwork.

Mr. Blackwood.

Not Elias.

He rubbed his thumb along the edge of his cuff, trying to ground himself.

He'd memorized her voice once.

Now it sounded like silence.

A soft knock pulled him out of his thoughts.

He didn't turn. "Come in."

The door opened, and Madeline entered.

She didn't speak right away—just crossed the room, heels soundless on the thick carpet. She stood beside him at the window, mirroring his stance.

"She looks different," she said finally.

Elias's jaw tightened. "You saw her?"

"Went to her apartment this morning."

He turned sharply. "You what?"

Madeline didn't flinch. "Don't look at me like that. You weren't going to reach out. Someone had to."

"You had no right—"

"I had every right," she cut in. "She disappeared. You might've made peace with that, but I didn't."

He looked away again, anger pulsing low in his chest.

"Three years, Elias. Three. I needed to know if she was okay. I needed to see it with my own eyes."

"And?"

"She's... tired. And guarded. But okay. Mostly."

There was a pause.

"She didn't ask about me?" Elias asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Madeline gave him a long look. "She didn't have to. I could see it in her face when I mentioned your name."

He frowned. "What did she say?"

"She didn't say anything. She just... looked away. Like she couldn't handle hearing it. That says enough, doesn't it?"

Elias swallowed hard, then turned back to the window. "She walked away. No explanation. No goodbye."

"I know," Madeline said softly. "But you never chased her either."

"I did," he muttered. "You just don't know how many nights I sat at this very window hoping I'd turn around and she'd be there."

Madeline sighed. "Then maybe it's time to stop pretending like she never mattered."

"I never said she didn't."

"You act like it."

He didn't respond.

Instead, she reached into her bag and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. "I wasn't going to show you this. But I think you need to see it."

He took it without a word.

It was a drawing.

Childlike. Messy. The kind only small, careful hands could make. It showed a treehouse under a sun, two stick figures holding hands—one larger, labeled "Mommy." The smaller one had a name written under it in clumsy, backward letters.

Eli.

Elias stared at it.

The world stilled again.

"What is this?" he asked, but he already knew.

Madeline's voice was quiet. "Her son."

The silence between them crackled like fire about to burn.

Elias turned slowly, every breath suddenly heavy. "His name is Eli?"

Madeline nodded once. "He's four, Elias."

The timeline hit him like a blow.

Three years since she left.

Four years old.

His fingers curled around the edges of the paper. "You're saying…"

"I'm saying she didn't just walk away from you, Elias. She walked away from your son."

He dropped into his chair, drawing a hand down his face. "No. No, she wouldn't—"

"She did."

Madeline stepped forward, softer now. "And she's still scared. I could see it. But she's not hiding him to hurt you. She thought she was protecting him. From what… I don't know."

He couldn't breathe. Couldn't speak.

A son.

He had a son.

He'd spent the past three years throwing himself into work, into building Blackwood Industries higher than ever before, thinking it was just the scar she left behind that drove him.

But it had never just been about Aria.

There had been a missing piece.

A silent space he never knew how to name.

Now he did.

Eli.

He stood abruptly.

"I need to see her."

"Not yet," Madeline said, stopping him with a hand on his arm. "Not like this."

He looked at her, eyes dark with emotion. "He's mine."

"I know. But she's still holding on to something. If you come in too strong, she'll retreat again."

Elias exhaled harshly. "What do I do then? Wait?"

Madeline shook her head. "Watch. Observe. Let her come to you."

He didn't like it.

He never had the patience for shadows and quiet games.

But this wasn't business.

This was blood.

He looked at the drawing again. Traced the crude little letters with his thumb.

"Did she say anything?" he asked.

Madeline hesitated. "She said she was scared. You'd think she only stayed because of the baby. That you'd question if anything was real."

The ache behind his ribs sharpened.

Because he would have.

Back then, he'd built walls around his trust. Around his heart. Even with her, even when he started falling—he had held back.

He had always wondered if she would leave.

And then she did.

Elias folded the drawing carefully and placed it inside his desk drawer. Not hidden. Just safe.

He turned to Madeline. "You'll tell me if she says anything else?"

Madeline gave a half-smile. "You're my brother. Of course."

He nodded.

Then added quietly, "Thank you."

She blinked. "For what?"

"For going to her when I couldn't."

Madeline stepped back. "Just… don't waste more time pretending you don't care."

As she moved to the door, Elias spoke again.

"Did he look like me?"

She paused. "Yes. Too much."

He closed his eyes for a moment. "And she's raising him alone?"

"She is. But not bitterly. She loves him, Elias. Fiercely. I could see it in everything she did. Every word she said."

He nodded slowly, processing every syllable.

Madeline glanced over her shoulder. "One more thing."

"What?"

"He has your eyes."

The words landed like a second blow.

He didn't speak again. Couldn't.

Madeline gave him one last look, then slipped out the door, leaving Elias in the stillness.

Elias sat there for a long while, staring at the drawer.

His son.

His.

There was so much left unsaid. So much time has already been lost.

But he would not lose anymore.

Not if he could help it.