Baker Bryant watched Elizabeth Boyd’s figure disappear down the corridor, a strange knot of frustration and unease tightening in his chest. Why didn’t she fight back? The question kept circling his mind.
He replayed the calm determination in her eyes, the steady way she walked away. It planted a seed of doubt. Maybe he’d misread her.
In his arms, Zahra Thomas shifted. The silence was getting to her. Would Baker actually pull the security tapes? She hadn’t thought that far. When she’d confronted Elizabeth, she’d been careful to avoid any physical contact. If Baker watched those videos, her carefully crafted innocent act would come crashing down.
Her heart hammered as she pressed closer, trying to bury her anxiety in the warmth of his embrace. She watched his face from the corner of her eye, searching for what he was really thinking.
When he stayed lost in thought, she gave a soft cough.
“What’s wrong? You feeling okay?” Baker frowned, dragging his gaze back to her. His voice was laced with concern, and some of the tension in her chest loosened.
She gave a weak shake of her head. “I’m sorry, Baker. Did I make things worse? I just wanted to explain to Dr. Boyd about us, but I couldn’t get the words out, and now she’s even more upset. It’s my fault. I’m no good at talking when I’m not feeling well.”
Her voice wobbled with self-blame, her eyes going red, like she might cry any second.
Sympathy pulled at Baker. He patted her back gently. “This isn’t on you. She’s the one being unreasonable, acting jealous. I’ll take care of it. You don’t need to worry. Let me take you home to rest.”
Zahra glanced at him sideways. Good. He’d dropped the camera idea.
“Okay, Baker. I’ll trust you on this.”
After leaving the hospital, Elizabeth headed back to her new apartment. She sprawled on the soft bed, wondering how to fill the next twenty-five days until the statutory waiting period ended. One thing was certain: she’d avoid any chance of running into Baker or Zahra.
She’d use this time to relax, treat herself—a small reward for all the years of mess and hard work she’d been through. She was happily jotting down ideas on her phone when a call interrupted her peace.
The screen flashed a familiar number. Elizabeth hesitated, then answered.
“Hello? Ms. Monroe?”
She’d rather skip this call. Baker had mentioned it: Sam had been skipping school, falling behind, waiting on her tutoring. Once, she’d invested in Sam because she had hope. Now she had zero intention of raising a kid just so Baker’s new girlfriend could look good playing mom.
“Hello, Elizabeth, it’s Ms. Monroe.” The teacher’s voice was a little anxious. “I wouldn’t bother you unless it was important. Can you come to the school right now?”
Elizabeth frowned, caught off guard. “Ms. Monroe, take a breath. What’s going on with Sam?”
The teacher sighed, the rush in her voice saying it all. “Sam hasn’t been coming to school recently. Did you know?”
Elizabeth pressed her lips together, then said flatly, “I know. But I can’t do anything about it. I’m divorcing my husband.”
That shut Ms. Monroe up for a few seconds. “Divorce? I… I wasn’t aware.”
Elizabeth shrugged, unbothered. “It’s fine. Just tell me what happened.”
Prompted, Ms. Monroe got back to the point. “Right, well. Sam showed up today. I thought he was here to catch up on classes. But then he got into a fight with a classmate. The other kid’s parents are on their way. I couldn’t reach Mr. Bryant, so I had to call you.”
A fight? It had only been a few days without her, and Sam was already acting out? Elizabeth clenched her fists, her thoughts cold.
“Okay. Don’t worry, Ms. Monroe. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
She hung up and considered calling Baker to handle it, but just as Ms. Monroe said, his phone was unreachable. Great. Just great.
She took a deep breath and decided to go herself, planning to deal with Baker later. After all, Sam was his son. He was the one responsible for how the kid turned out.
Ten minutes later, Elizabeth walked into Ms. Monroe’s office and immediately spotted Sam in the corner. Head down, fingers twisting together, his face tear-streaked and bruised. When he heard footsteps, he looked up.
“Why are you here? I don’t want you. I want Auntie Zahra!” His voice was sharp, defiant.
Elizabeth stopped. Her expression stayed hard. Nearby, Ms. Monroe took in the exchange, remembering Elizabeth’s earlier mention of the divorce. Awkward. She could already tell Baker and Elizabeth’s split had something to do with this “Auntie Zahra.”
Ms. Monroe cleared her throat, about to step in, but Elizabeth was more composed than she expected.
“Do you think I wanted to come?” Elizabeth shot back. “Sam, I’m here to clean up your mess. So keep quiet and don’t embarrass me again.”
She meant it. If she could’ve reached Baker, she wouldn’t be standing here. Sam stared at her, speechless, like he was seeing a stranger. Elizabeth had been strict with him before, but never this distant.
