Chapter 2 The Quiet Undoing

I don't know how I got home.

I must've driven, I must've parked, but nothing stuck. Not the road, not the city, not even the sound of traffic. My mind was a broken radio-white noise and a silent scream tangled somewhere deep in my chest.

I stood by the door for what felt like forever, keys trembling in my hand. The house was too quiet. It used to echo with Jason's laughter, his tiny feet thumping on the marble floor as he zoomed around pretending to be a superhero. Now... nothing.

I stepped inside, slowly, like the air itself was heavier.

The scent hit me first.

That baby powder smell he always carried on his skin, mixed with the faint strawberry shampoo I used on him. Still lingering. Still here. My legs wobbled, but I didn't fall. I just... stood there. Eyes dry but swollen. Heart heavy but somehow still beating.

I walked to the living room and collapsed on the couch. Just sat there, staring into nothing. My mind didn't run. It didn't even walk. It just hovered.

Jason was gone.

Gone.

My baby was gone.

And I didn't even get to say goodbye.

There were no wails from me. No sobs. My face was frozen. My hands clutched the hem of my shirt like it could hold me together. But inside... It was chaos. A loud, ugly chaos ripping my soul in half. I should've held him tighter that morning. I should've said something more than, "Go play, mummy's coming."

I shouldn't have gotten that damned pool.

I shouldn't have insisted.

The door creaked open.

I didn't even turn. I didn't have the energy. My ears caught the sound of shoes-the expensive kind-clicking gently on the tiles. Then silence.

He stood behind me.

Solace.

And the air got even heavier.

He said nothing at first, but I could feel his presence. I could feel the weight of his confusion. He probably thought I had followed him home because of what I saw at the office. The kiss. Him, lips tangled with Cleo's like we didn't just lose our child hours ago.

He finally spoke. His voice was soft... fake-soft. Like that would fix anything.

"Ella," he said. "I didn't expect you here. I wanted to come find you after work, I swear, I-"

I didn't respond.

He walked around the couch slowly, unsure, nervous even. His eyes were red. Maybe from guilt. Maybe from panic. Maybe from nothing at all.

"I know what you saw," he began again, voice shaking just enough. "And I'm sorry. I know I messed up. But things haven't been easy between us, you know? Ever since Jason was born, you just... changed."

That was when I lifted my eyes to meet him.

That was when I smirked.

A bitter, hollow kind of smirk that stretched my lips but didn't reach my soul.

I said nothing at first. Just watched him fidget with the hem of his shirt, the way he always did when he was trying to talk his way out of something. Liar. Smooth-talking liar.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, more defensive now. "But you have to admit, you haven't been present either. Everything was about Jason. You barely looked at me anymore. I made a mistake, okay? It just-happened."

I tilted my head slightly.

"Oh," I said quietly. "You think I'm here because of that kiss?"

He frowned.

"What else could it be?"

I let the silence hang. Then I rose to my feet slowly and walked past him-like he wasn't even there. I moved like a ghost. My legs floated toward the dining table where Jason's drawings still lay. Crayons scattered across the surface. His little superhero sketch in the middle. The one he said was "Daddy saving the world."

I picked it up.

I looked at it like it was a holy relic.

Then I whispered, "Jason is gone."

The words fell like ice cubes.

Solace blinked.

"Gone to where?"

I looked up at him.

His face was confused, a nervous smile forming on his lips-like I was joking. Like this was just another passive-aggressive jab I was throwing his way.

I shook my head.

"No," I said, my voice cracking. "He's gone, Solace. Our son is dead."

I watched the color drain from his face.

He stepped back a little. "What... what do you mean?"

I turned to him fully now, still holding Jason's drawing, still shaking.

"He drowned," I said quietly. "In the pool. In the pool I wanted so badly. I took my eyes off him for just a second and... I thought he was inside. I didn't even hear him fall in."

Solace opened his mouth, but no words came out.

"He was lying there... floating," I went on, voice barely a whisper. "His skin was blue. His lips. His fingers. Everything. I pulled him out, I screamed. I tried CPR. I begged him. I begged him to come back..."

Tears finally found their way to my cheeks, slow and steady.

"He was so cold," I said. "My baby was so cold."

Solace moved toward me, maybe to hold me. Maybe to say something comforting. But I flinched.

"Don't," I said firmly, backing away. "Don't touch me. Don't even breathe near me."

He looked helpless now. Like the ground was slipping from under his feet.

I turned away and walked toward the cabinet where I kept Jason's hospital file. I picked it up. Flipped through the pages. His birth certificate. His vaccination card. His growth chart. All the moments. All the milestones. All of them, gone.

"This was our son," I said, voice trembling. "This was the boy you abandoned emotionally the second things got hard. The same boy I carried for nine months while you buried yourself in work and excuses."

"Ella, please..."

"No!" I snapped. "Don't you dare say my name like you care. You lost the right when you kissed another woman while our son's body was still warm in the morgue."

Solace was crying now. But I didn't care. I couldn't. Something in me had snapped and there was no going back.

He tried to speak. I shut him down with a glare.

And then silence again.

Heavy. Suffocating.

I walked past him. Headed straight to the bedroom. My hands moved like they had a purpose-folding clothes, tossing toiletries into a bag. Everything mechanical. Emotionless.

"Ella, what are you doing?" he asked, his voice desperate now.

"I'm leaving," I replied simply. "I can't stay here. Not in this house. Not with you."

He tried to block my path. I pushed past him.

"You don't get to ask questions," I said. "You don't get to beg. You made your choices. Now I'm making mine."

I walked to the door, bag slung over my shoulder, heart pounding like a war drum.

Just before I stepped out, I turned back one last time.

"Goodbye, Solace."

And with that, I walked into the night.