(Elena pov)

I stared down at Isabelle as I held her close, her tiny body warm against mine, her soft movements grounding me in the moment.

Ever since I got out of the hospital... the thought hadn't left.

Mexico.

Him.

It was like an itch I couldn't scratch, something constantly pulling at the back of my mind, growing louder every day.

"How am I gonna..." I whispered, my voice barely there as I looked at her. "I can't just leave you here..."

I bit my lip, my thoughts clashing with each other as I continued feeding her, her small hands resting against me like she trusted me completely.

Because she did.

And that made it worse.

I exhaled shakily, my eyes scanning her face, memorizing every little detail.

"I can't leave you with mother either... she's too busy," I muttered, my voice strained. "There's nobody else..."

A name surfaced in my mind.

Sydney.

I froze for a second.

The idea lingered there, tempting, dangerous.

Someone who could watch her.

Someone who would.

My jaw tightened.

"No..." I said firmly, shaking my head slightly. "We're not doing that. No."

I looked back down at Isabelle, her peaceful expression pulling me back.

This wasn't just about me anymore.

I couldn't just chase him.

Not like this.

Not at the cost of her.

"What am I gonna do, Isabelle..." I whispered, my voice barely steady as I stared down at my child in my arms. 

The world around me felt like it was spinning out of control, like I couldn't quite catch my balance no matter how hard I tried. 

A heavy ache sat in my chest, constant and suffocating, as I struggled to hold myself together through the quiet pain.

She let out a soft, adorable coo, her tiny lips curling into a smile so pure it almost hurt to look at. 

My breath caught as I studied her face—those eyes... they were his. 

The same warmth, the same shape, the same way they seemed to look right through me. And that smile... it was his too. Every little detail, every expression, was a reflection of him, a reminder I couldn't escape no matter how much it ached.

"Momma loves you, Isabelle," I said gently, my voice trembling as I held her small arms in my hands. 

They were so delicate, so fragile, yet she held onto me with a quiet trust that made my chest tighten even more. 

I carefully cradled her closer, as if I could protect her from everything—even the pain I didn't know how to fix.

"I'll find a way for us all to live happily..." I whispered, my voice soft and unsteady as I stared down at my child. 

The words felt fragile leaving my lips, like a promise I wasn't sure how to keep—but I held onto it anyway, because it was all I had. 

My eyes lingered on her small face, taking in every detail as if memorizing it could somehow give me strength.

She shifted slightly in my arms, letting out a quiet sound as her tiny fingers curled and reached, brushing against me without a care in the world. 

I swallowed the tightness in my throat, forcing a faint, shaky smile as I gently adjusted my hold on her, cradling her closer against my chest.

No matter how uncertain everything felt, no matter how heavy the weight pressing down on me became, I knew one thing for sure—I couldn't let her feel it. Not now. Not ever.

—

(Miguel pov)

"Ten pancakes for my lovely wife and child..." I said with a small smile, carefully setting the plate down in front of Carla. 

The warm scent of butter and syrup filled the room, curling softly through the air as I straightened up. 

I couldn't help but glance at her, my chest tightening in a way that felt both overwhelming and gentle at the same time. 

Time really did fly—one moment, her belly was barely noticeable, something we kept to ourselves with quiet excitement... and now, it was impossible to ignore, a beautiful, undeniable reminder of what was coming.

"These look amazing, as always," Carla murmured, her voice warm and familiar as she reached for the fork. 

There was a softness in the way she spoke, like she meant every word, even after all this time.

I let out a quiet breath, watching her take the first bite. It was such a simple moment—something we'd done countless times before—but it never lost its effect on me. 

The way her expression shifted, even slightly, as she enjoyed the food I made... it stirred something deep in my chest every single time. It was a quiet kind of happiness, the kind that didn't need to be loud to feel real.

"So good..." she murmured between chews, her voice soft and satisfied as she took another bite. 

I couldn't help but watch her for a moment longer than I probably should have, a quiet warmth settling deep in my chest. 

I loved her—more than I could ever really put into words—and somehow, even moments as simple as this made that feeling grow stronger.

I finally pulled myself away, grabbing my own plate and carrying it over to the table. The chair scraped lightly against the floor as I sat across from her, the familiar routine grounding me just enough. 

I picked up my fork and began to eat, though my attention kept drifting back to her without me even realizing it.

"I'm so glad you're eating more... seeing you just watch me... I hated it so much, Miguel..." Carla said, her tone soft but carrying a weight beneath it. 

She paused briefly before continuing, her expression shifting into something more certain, almost relieved. 

"I know what that wretched woman did... and I'm glad you're with me now..."

Her words hung in the air, heavier than the warmth of the room, settling somewhere deep inside me as I slowly lowered my fork.

"Also... how are you feeling about the whole moving to Japan thing? You wanna back out? It's totally fine, Miguel," Carla said, her voice laced with a hint of worry as she spoke between small bites. 

Her eyes lingered on me, searching, as if she was trying to read an answer I hadn't said out loud yet.

I paused for a moment, letting out a slow breath as I looked up from my plate and met her gaze. 

Despite everything—the uncertainty, the weight of leaving everything behind—I knew what I wanted.

"I still want to move forward," I said quietly but firmly. "It's for the best."

The tension in her expression softened almost immediately, melting into a gentle smile as she reached across the table and placed her hand over mine. 

Her touch was warm, grounding, her thumb brushing lightly against my skin in a way that made everything feel just a little more certain.

"Just a bit more time..." Carla whispered, her voice turning softer, almost reverent, as her gaze drifted downward. 

Her free hand moved instinctively to her stomach, resting there with a kind of quiet protectiveness. "...and he'll finally be here."

I followed her gaze, my chest tightening again—but this time, it wasn't just fear or uncertainty. It was something deeper, something steadier. Anticipation.

——