Chapter 41
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THE kitchen smelled faintly of garlic and thyme as Amelia hoved about, rinsing dishes and wiping down the counter. The day had been long, her body weary, but the silence in the house was heavier than the chores in her hands. She sighed, tying her hair into a messy bun just as her phone lit up on the counter.
She glanced at the screen. ‘Mom p>
Her heart softened a little. She quickly dried her hands on a towel and picked it up.
“Hello, Mom,” she said, trying to mask the fatigue in her voice.
“My daughter,” Mrs. Harlow’s gentle tone carried through he line, a balm Amelia hadn’t realized she needed.” How are you p>
Amelia let out a faint laugh, one that didn’t reach her heart!
“I’m managing p>
“Managing,” her mother repeated, her voice laced with concern. “Amelia, you don’t sound okay. What is going on between you and Adrian, again? He just called me p>
Amelia stiffened, her lips pressing together.
“Of course, he did p>
“Don’t be harsh, my child. He sounded broken, Amelia. He misses you terribly. Do you know what he told me? He said he can’t stand the silence anymore p>
Amelia leaned against the counter, eyes shutting briefly.
“Mom, he broke Hazel’s heart that day. She was so excited for him to be there, so proud. And he didn’t show up. Not because he was dying, not because something terrible happened, just work. Always work p>
“I understand,” Mrs. Harlow said softly. “I know how much that hurt you. But he told me Hazel forgave him p>
Amelia opened her eyes, blinking back the sting.
“Yes, she did. She is a child, Mom. You give her a doll, she smiles. But I… I can’t just move on that easily. I needed him there. For once, I needed him to choose us over his office.” 1
Her mother was quiet for a moment, then sighed.
“My daughter, men like Adrian, they carry the world on their shoulders. He provides, yes, but he doesn’t always realize the weight of absence in the home. He admitted his mistake. He is sorry. Can you not find it in your heart to forgive him p>
Amelia rubbed her forehead p>
“Mom, you don’t understand. This isn’t the first time. He promises, then breaks it. Hazel’s birthdays, family dinners, school events. Every time, he says ‘I will be there.” And then, he isn’t. How long do I keep forgiving empty promises p>
“My daughter,” Mrs. Harlow pleaded, her voice warm but firm. “Marriage is not about keeping count of failures, it is about working through them. Adrian loves you. He adores Hazel. He may stumble, but that man would never walk away from his family. I have seen it in his eyes p>
Amelia swallowed hard, her mother’s words tugging at her heartstrings.
“Love isn’t enough, Mom. Commitment matters too p>
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“I know. Which is why I will ask you this, give him one more chance. Talk to him. Tell him exactly what you need. Set your boundary. A marriage without forgiveness cannot stand p>
The silence stretched between them, filled only by Amelia’s quiet breathing. Then, at last, she spoke.
“One more chance,” she whispered.
Mrs. Harlow’s voice brightened with relief.
“Yes, my dear p>
“But-” Amelia added firmly, her tone sharpening. “Only on one condition p>
“Which is?” her mother asked gently.
“That he promises me, never again to break any promise he makes to Hazel or to me. If he says he will be there, then he will be there. No excuses, no work, no distractions. He either learns to honor his word, or I cannot keep doing this p>
Mrs. Harlow smiled softly on the other end, though Amelia couldn’t see it.
“That is fair, my daughter. Speak to him. Tell him your heart. I believe he will listen this time p>
Amelia sighed, leaning against the counter again.
“For Hazel’s sake, Mom, I will forgive him. But he has to prove that his word still means something p>
“That is my girl,” Mrs. Harlow said. “And remember, every marriage has storms. What matters is whether you both hold onto the boat together. Adrian is holding on. Don’t let go just yet p>
Amelia closed her eyes, whispering, “I will try p>
When the call ended, she remained still, phone pressed to her chest, her heart heavy but a little lighter than before.
The room was still, the soft rhythm of Adrian’s breathing filling the silence. The curtains shifted gently with the early morning breeze, and the clock on the wall read 5:00 am.
Amelia was on her knees, eyes closed, lips moving in a quiet prayer of thanksgiving. It was her routine, her routine and her anchor. Every morning, before the chaos of the world intruded, she knelt beside their bed to whisper her gratitude to God.
“Thank you, Lord, for another day,” she murmured. “Thank you for my husband, for Hazel, for family p>
Her words trailed as a sudden buzz broke through the stillness. Adrian’s phone, lying a few inches from her on the bed, lit up. It vibrated with insistence, the bright glow piercing through the soft dimness of dawn.
Amelia’s eyelids fluttered open. She hadn’t planned to look But her gaze fell, and her heart skipped violently against her ribs.
That name.
The Automobile Guy.
Her breath caught in her throat. The very contact she had been battling with in her thoughts for days now. The one that never stopped calling. The one Adrian always rushed to pick up, even when water dripped from his hair and soap clung to his skin.
Her eyes darted to Adrian. He was still fast asleep, his arm lazily sprawled across the blanket, lips slightly parted. Peaceful. Unaware.
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Amelia’s hands trembled, yet something in her steadied them. Slowly, she reached out and picked up the phone. Her pulse thundered in her ears as her thumb hovered over the screen.
‘Don’t do it,’ her conscience whispered.
‘Do it,’ her heart screamed back.
With a sharp breath, she swiped to answer, then pressed the phone to her ear.
The voice came instantly, sharp, clear, and feminine.
“Babe,” it began breathlessly, “I’m so sorry for calling this morning but I can’t wait. I’m pregnant with our baby p>
The words landed like a bomb.
Amelia’s left hand flew to her face, her palm slapping against her cheek as though the sting would wake her from this nightmare.
Her knees wobbled, her breath fractured.
Her lips parted, but no words came out. The voice on the other end had gone silent now, waiting for Adrian’s
response.
Instead, it was Amelia’s broken whisper that filled the room.
“Yo! Holy moly!” she screamed, her voice cracking like glass under pressure.
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Olivia Harris
Olivia Harris is an emerging author celebrated for her captivating romantic and steamy novels. With a talent for crafting deep emotional connections and fiery chemistry between her characters, Olivia’s stories offer readers an escape into worlds filled with passion, intrigue, and heart-stopping drama.