Scarlett's POV

Sebastian is in the shower.

My mind was a mess in the car. I couldn't even begin to think about Jack Fuller's confession, Damian Vanderbilt's questions, or even just Sebastian's offer. In the end, the easiest decision was:

He needed to get out of the wet shirt.

He took my offer, but he put the hot water in the bathtub with my favorite salt, and he insisted on me taking a hot bath first. It did help a lot. I took my time in there, feeling the warmth of the water softening my stiff muscles. I only came out to see that he didn't take a shower himself, but waited for me in his wet shirt.

In my gentle pajamas and soft slippers, I curl up on the cushions of our bay window, watching the quiet night view outside. I don't miss this view. This is where I usually sit when I have to wait for my husband over midnight, or when he leaves me alone after yet another fight.

But now, this view gives me peace.

It comes from his changes, I know. I didn't dare hope for such a safety from him, but now I'm getting greedy again. I stroke my belly that's getting hard to hide, trying to make that decision.

Could I stay in this marriage with him? Am I doing that for myself? Or am I doing that for the baby?

love the baby, then of course, I'd want the baby to grow up under the care of his father. But is it just another wrong reason to stay in a marriage, just like "preventing

any way. Now he doesn't. He just remained silent and did not talk about any of it. I feel like it's harder to tell how he feels. I know he is trying to do right by

I love with all I have and I leave with no regret. That's

out of

waist, water dripping from his hair as steam spouts off him. Tiny flows of

the towel in front of me before

at

of the pajamas is

encouraged by my laugh. He picks my hand and lands a

want to smile at him, want to hug him and kiss him in return. But I know it's more out of gratitude than out of love. So in the end, I just nod

wish we could go back in time, and start our marriage

Now they are all between us,

takes my hand, gazing at it as

that demands all his attention. He strokes my skin with his thumb, his rough

my rush of wanting to make things work and blurt: "Are you...mad

mention her name. Even thinking about it brings up too many bad

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