The Day Our Promise Breaks

Charles was completely absorbed, eyes fixed on the pages in front of him.

He was studying really studying.

When Evelyn woke and blinked her eyes open, this was the first thing she saw: Charles, sitting at the edge of the bed, the curtains drawn tight, reading lamp glowing quietly on the nightstand as he pored over a book about pregnancy and parenting.

He was so caught up in what he was reading, so focused, he didn't even notice she was awake.

Watching him, Evelyn couldn't help but think back.

When she was pregnant with Charlie, it had been her first time as a mom. She'd loved Charles so much back then, and she had been filled with hope for the little life growing inside her. But it was all new, and all unknown—so much uncertainty, so many things to worry about. She'd been anxious and scared, unable to help it.

Charles hadn't cared much about the baby then.

So she'd bought a pile of books herself, sitting just like this, turning each page slowly, taking careful notes.

Now, watching Charles, she couldn't stop thinking about how cold and distant he'd been with Charlie. Her expression grew visibly colder.

That's when Charles finally realized she was awake.

He set the book aside and stood up right away. "You must be hungry. I made some soup-come downstairs and have a little."

Evelyn hadn't had much appetite lately; she'd barely touched her lunch. She was pregnant, though-she knew she needed the nutrition.

any," she said,

this house. Charles had been spoiled his entire life. From the start, Evelyn had kept herself at arm's length-sharp words, cold shoulders, trampling over every effort

a little, okay?" Charles

you, just seeing your

didn't bother hiding her

his lips together, silent for a moment, then suddenly moved. Before Evelyn

he

at the dining table. Then he disappeared into the

bowl of steaming soup.

her, setting the bowl in front of

didn't even look at it. She reached out and knocked the bowl over. "Charles, do you

piping hot, splashed all

made his skin flush red instantly. Some drops

about his own burn. He

move, I'll

got up, grabbed the first-aid kit from the living room, and found the burn cream. He knelt beside

tried to pull her hand away,

never forgive you. Nothing you do now changes anything. Why can't you just let

quietly, "I'll go get you another

the mess and headed back to the kitchen, returning with a fresh bowl