The contracted wife who left first

Aria didn't sleep that night.

Even after returning to the hotel room, after checking on Eli and pulling the covers up around his tiny shoulders, after showering and changing into her softest cotton shirt—she lay awake, staring at the ceiling.

Elias knew.

Not just in theory. Not just in suspicion.

He knew.

And he wanted to meet his son.

The thought alone made something twist painfully inside her.

Aria pulled her knees to her chest and sat against the headboard, her eyes adjusting to the dark. Eli stirred, turning slightly, but didn't wake. She reached over and gently brushed a curl from his forehead.

How do you prepare a four-year-old for a meeting that could change everything?

How do you prepare yourself?

She remembered what Elias had said at the end of their conversation.

"I want to meet him."

"I am what's best for him."

That confidence. That certainty.

That was Elias Blackwood in a sentence.

He never asked for anything. He stated it, and the world adjusted.

But this—this—wasn't business. It wasn't a hostile takeover or a numbers game.

This was her son.

Their son.

And she wasn't ready to let go of the quiet life she had built, away from the shadows of his name and legacy.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

She didn't even realize she'd been crying until her pillow felt damp beneath her cheek.

—

The morning was soft and gold with sunlight. Eli woke up with a big yawn and immediately asked for waffles.

As Aria dressed him and listened to him chatter about a dream involving a spaceship made of jellybeans, she wondered if he'd even understand who Elias was.

Would he feel something? Some connection?

Or would it just be a stranger in a fancy suit?

"Mommy," Eli said, looking up at her with those impossibly dark eyes, "why are you sad?"

Aria blinked.

She hadn't realized she'd been frowning.

"I'm not sad, sweetheart," she said, forcing a smile. "Just... thinking."

"About work?"

"Something like that."

Eli tilted his head. "You need a hug?"

Aria nodded. "Yes. Very much."

He ran into her arms, giggling as he squeezed her tightly.

"You're squishing me," she laughed softly, hugging him back.

"You're squishable!" he said, his voice muffled against her shoulder.

"And you," she whispered, "are too sweet for your own good."

"Can I have two waffles then?"

She chuckled, brushing his curls back. "You drive a hard bargain, little man."

"I'm just practicing," he said proudly. "For when I grow up and make jellybean spaceships."

"Sounds like a solid business plan."

He beamed. "You can be my helper."

"I'd be honored."

And in that moment, she wished she could stay in this cocoon forever. Just her and her son and the quiet world they'd built.

No Elias.

No past.

No reckoning.

—

That afternoon, Elias called.

She stared at the screen for a long time before answering.

"Hello."

"I'd like to see him today."

It wasn't a question.

Aria swallowed. "He doesn't know who you are."

"Then let's change that."

She could hear the restraint in his voice. Not anger, not pressure. Just a kind of stillness that made her nervous.

"He's a child, Elias."

"And I'm his father."

Silence stretched.

Then he said, softer this time, "Let me meet him, Aria. No lawyers. No drama. Just ten minutes. At the park. You don't even have to tell him who I am."

She hesitated.

"You showing up, even for ten minutes… it changes things."

"It should," he said quietly. "He deserves to know me."

"And if he gets attached? If he starts asking questions I'm not ready to answer?"

"Then you answer them. Or we do. Together."

She drew in a sharp breath.

"You always assume we're still a 'we.'"

"Maybe I'm hoping we could be again," he said, voice rough. "But even if we're not… he's still mine too."

She closed her eyes.

"All right," she said finally. "Five o'clock. The park behind the hotel."

"I'll be there."

—

Aria watched Elias arrive from a bench under a tree.

He wasn't wearing a suit this time—just a navy shirt, jeans, and that same quiet intensity. He looked out of place among the laughing children and colorful slides, but somehow, he fit. Effortlessly.

Eli was on the swings, kicking his legs and shouting, "Higher, Mommy!"

"I'll push you again in a bit," she called.

Then turned to face Elias as he approached.

He paused a few feet away, his gaze fixed on the little boy.

Aria watched him take it in.

The messy curls. The dimpled smile. The way Eli talked to himself while swinging.

There was something in Elias's expression—an ache, raw and deep.

She had never seen him look like that.

"Do I... just walk up to him?" he asked, voice rough.

Aria nodded slowly. "You can say you're a friend. Ask if you can push him. He loves that."

Elias nodded.

Then he walked forward—cautiously, like stepping into a sacred place.

"Hey there," he said gently.

Eli turned, eyes bright. "Hi!"

"Mind if I give you a push?"

Eli studied him for a second. Then shrugged. "Okay!"

Elias moved behind the swing and gave it a gentle push.

"Higher!" Eli laughed.

They stayed that way for a while—Eli laughing, Elias pushing, Aria watching with a mix of awe and dread tightening in her chest.

"You're strong!" Eli said between giggles.

"I've had some practice," Elias replied, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Do you have kids too?" Eli asked suddenly, twisting his head to look at him.

Elias hesitated. "Just one, I think."

"You think?" Eli frowned. "How can you not know?"

Elias chuckled softly. "It's… complicated."

Eli nodded solemnly. "Grown-up stuff?"

"Yeah. Grown-up stuff."

"Okay," Eli said easily. "But if you don't have anyone to push, you can push me anytime."

Aria felt tears prick the back of her eyes.

Elias looked at her then, over Eli's head.

And in that one look, so much passed between them.

Regret.

Hope.

Possibility.

Maybe even something like forgiveness.

Not spoken. Not promised.

But there.

A fragile beginning.

"What's your name?" Eli asked, craning his neck again.

Elias crouched beside the swing now, meeting his son's eyes.

"You can call me Eli, too. Like you."

Eli gasped. "We have the same name?"

"Sort of," Elias said, smiling. "Short for Elias."

"That's cool!" Eli grinned. "Then we're name twins."

"Looks like it."

"Do you like waffles?"

"Love them."

Eli beamed. "Mommy makes the best ones. She puts cinnamon. Do you know Mommy?"

Elias glanced at Aria again. "Yeah. I used to. A long time ago."

"Did you make her sad?"

The question was so innocent, so unfiltered, it felt like a slap.

Elias blinked. "Maybe I did."

"You should say sorry."

"I will."

Aria's breath caught.

Elias stood slowly and walked back toward her, hands in his pockets.

"I wasn't expecting him to be… so much like you," he said softly.

"He's his own person," Aria replied, but her voice wavered.

"I can see that." He paused. "But I see you in him. Every part of him."

Aria didn't respond. The air was too thick with unspoken words.

"I meant what I said," Elias continued. "No pressure. No demands. But I'm not walking away again."

She looked at him then. Really looked.

"You already left once, Elias. I lived through that. He lived through that."

"I didn't know," he said, a raw edge in his tone. "But now I do."

He looked toward the swing where Eli was now pretending to be a superhero.

"I want to be in his life. Whatever it takes."

Aria stared down at her hands.

"I don't know if I'm ready."

"That's okay," he said gently. "I'll wait."

And for the first time in a long time, she believed him.