The next few days blurred into a pattern.
Morning drop-offs. Coffee. Small, tentative conversations over dinner.
Nothing huge, nothing explosive — just life slowly threading itself back together.
It almost felt... normal.
And that's what scared Aria the most.
One Friday afternoon, Aria was at home, cleaning out Eli's closet. School papers, abandoned toys, drawings that made her heart squeeze. She found one sketch of Thunder and tucked it away carefully into a memory box.
The doorbell rang.
She wiped her hands on her jeans and went to answer it, half expecting a delivery.
It wasn't a delivery.
It was a woman — tall, in a sharply tailored jacket, holding a leather folder.
"Aria Collins?" the woman asked, professionally neutral.
"Yes?"
The woman handed her a thin envelope. "You've been served."
Aria just blinked, stunned. "I'm sorry—what?"
But the woman was already walking away.
Heart hammering, Aria ripped open the envelope. Legal papers.
Notice of Petition: Custody Review.
Petitioner: Marlene Caldwell.
The world tilted.
She read the first few lines again and again, but they didn't make more sense.
Someone was petitioning the court to reexamine Elias's custody rights to Eli.
Eli.
Her son.
Their life.
Aria's hands shook as she fumbled for her phone, dialing Elias's number with frantic fingers.
He picked up on the second ring. "Hey, I was just about to—"
"Did you know about this?" she cut in, voice shaking.
Silence.
"Elias," she pressed, hating the tremor in her voice. "Tell me you didn't know."
"I was going to tell you," he said finally, low and tight. "I got the first notice a few days ago. I didn't want to... scare you. I thought I could deal with it myself."
"You thought you could deal with it yourself?" she echoed, stunned. "Without telling me? About our son?"
"I didn't want to pull you back into all the ugliness. I didn't want Eli to know. I thought—" He broke off, frustrated. "I thought I was protecting you."
"You were lying to me."
"No," he said sharply. "I was trying to handle it before it became a problem."
"Except now it's a problem," she said, holding the papers up like he could see them through the phone. "A court date. An official petition. This is real, Elias!"
"I know," he said. He sounded exhausted like the weight of it had been crushing him for days. "I know. I screwed up. But we can handle this. Together."
Aria pressed a hand to her forehead, willing herself to breathe.
But the old fears—the old betrayals—roared back to life inside her.
"I need to go," she said, voice tight.
"Aria, please—"
She hung up.
For the first time in a long time, she felt completely alone.
Later That Night
Aria sat on the porch steps, hoodie zipped up to her chin, staring out at nothing.
She didn't cry. Not yet. It felt like if she started, she might never stop.
The screen door creaked behind her.
She didn't look up, but she knew it was Elias.
He sat down a few feet away, careful not to crowd her.
Minutes ticked by in silence.
Finally, he said, "It's Marlene. My ex's sister. You met her once, years ago."
Aria's throat tightened. She remembered. Barely.
"She filed the petition claiming I'm unstable. That I abandoned responsibility. That Eli deserves a more 'secure' home environment."
Aria swallowed hard. "You didn't abandon responsibility. You abandoned me."
He flinched.
"And now it's coming back to destroy everything we were starting to rebuild," she said, voice low. "Because you couldn't be honest with me."
"I thought I was doing the right thing," Elias said, voice rough. "I thought if I handled it, if I protected you from it, it would go away."
"It's not your job to protect me," she snapped, whipping her head toward him. "It's your job to be honest with me. To trust me."
"I do trust you," he said fiercely. "I trust you more than anyone."
"Then why didn't you tell me the second you found out?"
"Because I'm still terrified," he admitted, the words ripping out of him. "Terrified of losing you. Losing him. Losing everything I never deserved in the first place."
Aria stared at him, breathing hard.
"I was a coward before," he said, voice breaking. "I know that. I left when I should have stayed. I ran when I should have fought. And now—now I'm trying, Aria. God, I'm trying. But I'm still figuring out how not to be the man who hurt you."
"You don't get to figure it out by hiding things from me," she said. "That's not how trust works."
"I know," he whispered.
The silence between them stretched thin and painful.
Finally, she said, "What happens next?"
He scrubbed his hands over his face. "Court hearing in a few weeks. They'll interview us. Review custody arrangements. Maybe even talk to Eli."
The thought of Eli being dragged into this made Aria's stomach churn.
"I'll do whatever it takes," Elias said, voice low and sure. "Whatever it takes to protect him. To protect you."
Aria hugged her knees to her chest, feeling impossibly tired.
The old scars felt raw again, burning just under the surface.
"I don't know if I can do this," she whispered.
He looked at her then — rooked — and she saw the devastation in his eyes.
"Please don't give up on me," he said hoarsely. "On us."
"I'm not giving up," she said. "But I can't carry this alone. And I won't carry it if you're going to shut me out again."
"I won't," he promised. "Not again. Not ever."
She wanted to believe him. God, she wanted to.
But trust wasn't a light switch you could just flip back on.
It had to be rebuilt, brick by brick, in the dark.
And right now, all she could see was how fragile everything still was.
Two Days Later
They sat side by side in a lawyer's office, papers strewn across a polished wood table.
Eli was with Nadine for the afternoon, mercifully unaware of the storm brewing around him.
The lawyer, a brisk woman in her forties named Claire, flipped through the custody documents.
"You two are lucky," Claire said, tapping the folder. "You're still legally considered joint guardians. Courts don't like to disrupt a child's living situation unless there's clear evidence of harm. But—" she held up a finger, "—any hint of instability, even emotional instability, will be scrutinized."
Aria felt Elias tense beside her.
"You'll both need to give interviews," Claire continued. "They'll want to know about your relationship. Your home life. How decisions are made."
Aria stared down at her hands.
Our relationship.
Our home life.
It all felt so new, so precarious. How could they convince a judge when they could barely convince themselves?
"And Eli?" Aria asked, her voice catching.
"They'll probably have a child psychologist talk to him," Claire said gently. "Casually. To assess his sense of security."
Aria's stomach turned.
"Is it better if we pretend—" Aria started, then caught herself.
Claire gave her a sharp look. "Don't pretend. Children are experts at sniffing out lies. Be honest. Be yourselves."
Elias reached out under the table and took her hand.
It surprised her.
It also steadied her.
Just a little.
That Night
They sat on the floor of the living room, Eli fast asleep upstairs.
Neither of them spoke for a long time.
Finally, Elias said, "I keep thinking about the first time we talked about the future."
Aria glanced at him. "Which time?"
"The time you said you wanted simple things. A small house. A quiet life. Safety."
She smiled faintly. "That was a long time ago."
"It wasn't," he said. "It just feels like it because I ruined everything after."
She looked away, the old ache flaring up.
"I want that again," he said softly. "Even if it's harder now. Even if we're not the same."
Aria didn't answer.
"I know I can't erase what I did," he said. "But maybe we can build something better this time. Stronger."
"You believe that?" she asked, her voice rough.
"I have to," he said simply. "Otherwise, what's the point of any of this?"
She studied him.
The boy he'd been was gone.
The man sitting in front of her was scarred, yes — but maybe he was stronger too.
And maybe... so was she.