Chasing His Divorced Wife And His Child

Chapter 14

NADIA’S POV

He’s gone, and even without the sound lingering, something heavy settles in the room, and I don’t move.

It lingers under my skin, everything he said and everything he didn’t, and I hate how easily it all came back.

Damn it. I force a slow breath in, steadying myself before I turn, because standing here like this won’t fix anything, and I don’t have the space to fall apart over something I already ended.

“Are you okay?”

Frank’s voice comes from behind me, calm as always, not pushing, just there.

I nod before I even think about it. “I’m fine,” I say, and it comes out steady enough to pass, but not enough to convince him.

He doesn’t call me out on it.

Frank never forces anything, he just watches, waits, lets you decide what you’re willing to give, and right now, I’m not giving him anything.

“I can ask him to stay away,” he says after a moment, his tone even, like he’s already considering the next step.

That makes something tighten low in my chest.

“No,” I reply, shaking my head slightly. “That won’t stop anything.”

Because this isn’t about distance anymore, Colin is already in it, and the worst part is he doesn’t even know how deep it goes.

Frank studies me for a second, like he’s trying to read what I’m not saying, but he doesn’t push. “Then what do you want to do?”

I don’t answer right away because I don’t have one, and for a second I think I did, I thought leaving was enough, that building something separate, something stable, something mine would keep that part of my life where I left it.

It didn’t, and now it’s standing right here again, looking at me like it still has a place.

“I don’t know,” I admit quietly, and I hate that more than anything else.

Frank nods slightly, like that answer doesn’t surprise him. “Then don’t rush it,” he says. “You don’t have to figure everything out tonight.”

Maybe, but it doesn’t feel like I have that kind of time, and a small tug at my hand pulls my attention down.

Noah.

He’s standing close to me, his fingers curled into mine like they belong there, and the second I look at him, something in me softens before I can stop it.

“Hey,” I murmur, crouching slightly so I’m at his level, brushing a hand gently over his hair.

He leans into it without hesitation, no questions or confusion, just trust, and that’s the only thing that matters.

I press a light kiss to his head, closing my eyes for a second longer than I should, grounding myself in something that actually makes sense.

I chose this, I chose him, and everything else comes after.

I straighten slowly, my grip on his hand tightening just slightly, like I need the reminder.

“I’ll take him home,” I say, my voice steadier now.

Frank nods. “I’ll handle things here.”

Of course he will, that’s what he does, and I don’t thank him because I don’t need to, we both know it’s already understood. The drive back feels quieter than it should.

Noah sits in the back, calm, watching the world outside like none of this touches him, and I wish, just for a second, that I could feel that same distance.

I can’t.

My mind keeps circling back, replaying everything, the way Colin looked at me, the way he didn’t push too hard at the end, the way he said he wasn’t walking away again.

That part sticks, and I tighten my grip on the steering wheel slightly, forcing it down because it doesn’t change anything, it shouldn’t.

By the time I get home, the silence feels heavier than before.

I get Noah inside, settle him, go through the motions like I always do, routine steady, controlled, predictable.

He falls asleep easily, safe and undisturbed, but I don’t.

I sit there for a while after, just watching him, making sure he’s really out, like I need the confirmation.

He shifts slightly, but doesn’t wake.

I step out quietly, closing the door behind me, and the second I’m alone again, everything comes back.

It isn’t loud or overwhelming, just there, constant, and when my phone buzzes on the table, I glance at it.

Unknown number.

A tight pull settles in my chest, not quite panic, not yet, but close enough to make me pick it up anyway.

“Hello?”

There’s a pause, then a woman’s voice comes through, calm and controlled, polished in a way that immediately puts me on edge.

“Is this Nadia?”

Every part of me stills.

“Yes,” I answer, my grip tightening slightly around the phone.

“This is Melissa Wells.”

The name hits exactly where it’s supposed to, and I recognize the voice instantly, calm, polished, the same one that used to remind me I was never good enough for her son, the same one that made every day in that house feel like I didn’t belong.

Of course she didn’t stay out of it.

“I was hoping we could talk.”

Her tone is polite, too polite, the kind that isn’t really a request.

My stomach twists, slow and uneasy, because I already know this isn’t going to be simple.

“About What?” I ask, keeping my voice even.

There’s a brief pause, just long enough to settle in.

“My son.”

I close my eyes briefly, steadying myself before opening them again.

This was always going to happen, I just didn’t expect it this fast.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” I say carefully.

“I do,” she replies, just as calm, just as controlled.

That tells me everything I need to know, this isn’t a conversation, it’s a move, and I don’t respond right away because I can already see where this goes, questions, pressure, control, everything I walked away from and refused to let touch him.

My gaze shifts toward Noah’s door without thinking, he’s asleep, safe for now, but that won’t last if she keeps digging, and she will, she always does.

The realization settles in, cold and clear, leaving no room for denial.

“If his mother gets involved… and finds out about Noah,” I say softly, more to myself than anyone else, “I lose him.”