Chapter 3

A week passed. The silence in my new studio apartment was both a comfort and a burden. I threw myself into my work, coding for sixteen hours a day, fueled by cheap coffee and the burning need to prove Mark wrong. But the loneliness crept in at night.

Mark hadn't tried to contact me again. Instead, he communicated through social media. His and Brittany's pages were a constant stream of posed photos: clinking champagne glasses at rooftop bars, laughing at exclusive-looking restaurants, posing in front of a shiny new sports car he definitely couldn't afford. Each post was a carefully crafted performance of success, all of it funded by the money I had earned. It made my stomach clench with a bitter, cold anger.

He was erasing me, replacing our shared history with a glossy new narrative starring Brittany. I was just a footnote, the emotional ex who "couldn't handle the hustle."

I needed a distraction. I needed to feel like I was a part of something again. I thought of Liam and his quiet kindness. And I thought of his daughter.

I baked a batch of chocolate chip cookies, using the small, cheap oven in my studio. They weren't perfect, but they smelled like home. With the plate of warm cookies in my hands, I walked the few blocks back to my old building and knocked on Liam' s door. I had timed it for when he would be picking up his daughter from school.

He opened the door, a small, dark-haired girl peeking out from behind his legs. She had his serious eyes but a bright, curious smile. This must be Lily.

"Chloe," Liam said, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "This is a nice surprise."

"I, uh, I was baking and I made way too many," I lied, holding out the plate. My voice was soft, a little hesitant, the way it was the first time I met him. I was still the damsel, just a slightly more stable one. "I thought maybe you and your daughter would like some."

Lily' s eyes widened at the sight of the cookies. "For me?" she asked, her voice a sweet little whisper.

"For both of you," I said, smiling directly at her.

Liam ushered me inside. "That' s really thoughtful of you, Chloe. This is my daughter, Lily. Lily, this is Chloe, our friend."

"Hi, Chloe," Lily said, taking a cookie. She took a big bite, getting chocolate all over her face.

I knelt down to her level. "It' s very nice to meet you, Lily. That' s a beautiful drawing on the fridge."

It was a colorful drawing of two stick figures, one big and one small, holding hands under a giant, smiling sun.

"Daddy helped me," she said proudly. "He' s the best artist."

I spent the next hour there, not talking much to Liam, but focusing all my attention on Lily. We played with her dolls, and I helped her build a lopsided tower out of wooden blocks. She showed me her favorite picture book, and I read it to her, doing silly voices for all the animals. She giggled, a bright, happy sound that filled the quiet apartment.

I felt a part of myself I thought had died with my dreams of a family with Mark slowly coming back to life. This was easy. This was natural.

As I was getting ready to leave, Lily tugged on my sleeve. Her face was serious, her brows furrowed just like her father' s.

"Are you my daddy' s new girlfriend?" she asked, her voice clear and loud.

The question hung in the air. I froze, my cheeks flushing. I glanced at Liam, who was watching us from the kitchen doorway, a strange expression on his face.

"Oh, honey, no," I said gently. "I' m just a friend."

Lily' s face fell, her lower lip trembling. "But I want you to be. Mommy doesn' t visit anymore. Daddy is sad sometimes. You make him smile."

My heart ached. The raw, innocent honesty of a child was more potent than any of Mark' s calculated cruelty.

"I like you," Lily whispered, leaning in to give me a quick, clumsy hug. "I wish you could stay and be my new mommy."

I hugged her back, my throat tight. I looked up at Liam over her small head. He was still standing in the same spot, his arms crossed over his chest. The soft, friendly look was gone. In its place was a sharp, questioning intensity.

After I said my goodbyes to Lily, Liam walked me to the door.

"She' s a sweet girl," I said, trying to sound casual.

"She is," he replied, his voice flat. He didn' t open the door. He just stood there, blocking my way. "Chloe, what are you doing?"

The question was direct. There was no accusation in it, just a genuine desire to understand.

"What do you mean?" I asked, my heart starting to pound.

"The first night, you were in trouble. I understood that. I wanted to help," he said, his gaze unwavering. "But now... baking cookies, playing with my daughter... you' re a smart woman. You' re a game developer. You build entire worlds. You' re not the helpless person you pretended to be."

He had seen through me. He had seen it from the beginning.

My carefully constructed facade shattered. The shame and the hurt of the past few weeks, the anger at Mark, the loneliness, the fear-it all came rushing to the surface. My eyes filled with tears, real, hot tears this time.

"I didn' t know what else to do," I whispered, my voice breaking. "He took everything. He made me feel worthless. He said... he said I was worthless because I couldn' t have a baby."

The confession tumbled out of me, raw and painful. "He' s out there with her, spending my money, living the life we were supposed to build together, and he acts like I never even existed. Coming here... playing with Lily... it was the first time I felt like a person again in a long, long time."

I wasn' t acting anymore. This was the real me, stripped bare of all pretenses. I was a woman who was broken, but was trying desperately to piece herself back together.

Liam' s expression softened. The suspicion in his eyes was replaced by a deep, profound empathy. He reached out, not to touch me, but just a small, comforting gesture.

"He' s a fool, Chloe," he said, his voice low and firm. "Any man who would say that to you is a fool."

He opened the door for me then. As I walked out into the hallway, I felt strangely lighter. He had seen the real me, the calculating survivor and the heartbroken woman, and he hadn't turned away.