I'd finally gathered myself after the emotional chaos of the previous morning. Dante had kissed my forehead and left for work, quieter than usual but still soft around the edges. I knew the tension between him and Marcus was still simmering under his skin—and truthfully, it was still burning inside me too.
As soon as the front door clicked shut behind him, I heard the subtle vibration of my phone from where it sat on the nightstand.
I picked it up, expecting a check-in message from Dante.
But no.
Marcus: I shouldn't have shown up like that. I'm sorry.
I stared at the screen, my fingers tightening around the phone until my knuckles ached. I locked the screen, dropped it back down, and walked away.
But five minutes later, another buzz.
Marcus: Please, Sienna. Just one conversation. That's all I'm asking.
I ignored it again.
Marcus: You look different. Happier. I noticed that right away. I'm glad for you... but I need to say some things.
My chest tightened. I sank onto the edge of the bed and stared at the floor. The robe I wore still held Dante's scent—his warmth, but even that wasn't enough to keep the familiar dread from slinking back in.
Why now?
Why did Marcus always know how to find the cracks I tried so hard to seal?
Marcus: I miss you. Let me apologize properly. I know she's mine and I want to be there for her, for the both of you.
I tossed the phone across the bed and pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes, willing the ache to go away. But my mind had already gone rogue, flipping through old pages I didn't want to revisit—his broken promises, the way he'd abandoned me when I needed him most, how cold his eyes had been the day he walked out.
That man wanted a second chance? A chance at what, exactly?
I spent the rest of the morning attending to Abigail, cleaning, Scrubbing counters, folding laundry that didn't need folding, wiping down windows I hadn't looked through in weeks. Anything to avoid the weight of his words and the silence after them.
But Marcus didn't stop.
Marcus: I didn't handle things right. I was scared. I was selfish. I've been in therapy, Sienna. Trying to be better. Trying to fix what I broke.
Marcus: You deserved better than the man I was.
Marcus: Please just talk to me.
I let the phone ring the fifth time. I let it vibrate itself silent the sixth. But by the seventh, something in me cracked.
I needed to tell him to stop.
To finally shut that door.
So I picked up the phone with a trembling hand and texted back.
Me: One coffee. Public place. That's it.
The reply was instant.
Marcus: Thank you. You won't regret it.
I chose a quiet café just outside the city—one Dante wouldn't pass on his way home. I didn't tell him I was going. I told myself it wasn't necessary… even though deep down I knew the truth.
I was scared of what he'd say. Scared of what I might feel if I looked Marcus in the eyes again.
He was already sitting when I arrived, hands wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee like he was afraid it would vanish. He looked… older. Tired. But the moment his eyes lifted and caught mine, I saw it—that flicker of familiarity that made my stomach twist.
"Sienna," he breathed, standing up quickly.
I didn't hug him. I didn't smile. I just nodded and sat down across from him.
"Thank you for coming," he said.
I kept my eyes on the menu. "You said you needed to talk. So talk."
There was a pause. Then a sigh.
"I've been going to therapy," he said, voice low. "It's not a magic fix, but… it's helped me understand how much I messed up."
My throat closed up, and I clenched my fists in my lap.
"The fact that we couldn't have a child was eating me up because it was something I so desperately desired," he went on. "And instead of showing up for you, I ran. Like a coward."
"You didn't just run," I said, finally looking up at him. "You abandoned me. You made me feel like I was the problem. Like I was weak. And most traumatizing, you cheated on me with someone that used to be my best friend, and moved on like I meant nothing, after all we'd been through together."
His eyes filled with something dangerously close to tears. "I was wrong. I was weak. I blamed you because I couldn't face myself."
I scoffed quietly. "Do you know what it was like? Do you know how I felt? Do you have any idea how all of it affected me? The trauma I had to deal with?"
"I've replayed it every day since," he whispered.
The silence stretched between us. He reached for my hand, but I pulled back before he could touch me.
"Don't," I said sharply.
He flinched. "I'm sorry. Old habit."
"You lost that right a long time ago, Marcus."
He nodded slowly, looking down into his coffee.
"I'm not asking for anything," he said after a moment. "I just wanted you to know that I regret it. That I wish I could take it back. That I still—"
"Don't," I cut in again, more forcefully this time. "Don't say you still love me."
He closed his mouth, lips pressed into a tight line.
"I love Dante," I said, the words surprising even me with their weight. "He didn't run. He stayed. He sees me."
Marcus nodded again, eyes glassy. "He looked ready to kill me the other day."
I didn't respond.
"I don't blame him," he added. "He's a lucky man. And if he's smart, he'll never make the mistakes I did."
There was a long pause. Finally, I stood.
"This was closure, Marcus. That's all. Don't text me again."
He stood too, swallowing hard. "I hope you forgive me, Sienna. And I hope we can fix this."
I didn't say goodbye.
When I got home, Dante was already there, pacing the living room, his phone in hand.
He looked up the moment I walked in. "Where were you?"
I froze.
"I was out," I said carefully.
"With him?"
I flinched. "It's not what you think."
I dropped my bag onto the floor and exhaled shakily. "I needed closure, Dante. That's it."
He looked like he wanted to yell. Or punch something. But instead, he just sat down on the couch and buried his face in his hands.
"You left the baby in here all by herself. What if something bad had happened?" He paused. "Are you really going to consider him?" he asked.
I walked over and knelt in front of him, gently pulling his hands away. "Dante, I'm here with you. We'll figure this all out but I'm certain Marcus isn't what I want."
He looked at me then, and I saw the storm still raging in his eyes.
"You say that now," he whispered, "but I've watched people change their minds before."
"I'm not them," I said softly. "I'm me. I've been through enough already to go back now."
He pulled me into his arms so tightly it hurt—and I let him.
Because this was home now.
And I wasn't going anywhere.