The counselor's office smelled like cheap coffee and lemon cleaner.
Aria hated it immediately.
Elias seemed just as uncomfortable, shifting in his chair every few seconds like he couldn't find a position that didn't make him feel exposed. Eli was across the room, sitting on a mat stacked with building blocks and plastic animals, oblivious to the tension crawling over his parents' skin.
"Thank you for coming," the counselor said, her smile a little too practiced.
Aria nodded stiffly.
Elias grunted something noncommittal.
The woman — Dr. Lacey Cartwright, according to the plaque on her desk — flipped through a thick manila file with their names scrawled across the front in red ink.
"I've reviewed your court-mandated plan," she said. "Six months of cooperative co-parenting sessions. Regular evaluations. Supervised check-ins."
She looked up at them, her eyes sharp.
"You know what's at stake."
Aria felt her stomach knot tighter.
"Yeah," she said, voice flat.
Elias cleared his throat. "We're not here to fight."
The counselor gave a faint, unreadable smile.
"We'll see."
The first session started awkwardly.
Dr. Cartwright asked a series of basic questions — who usually handled bedtime routines, how decisions were made about school activities, and what communication methods worked best between them.
Aria found herself answering mechanically, her voice stripped of any real warmth.
Elias kept his responses short, and careful.
It felt like walking through a minefield.
One wrong word, and they'd blow the whole thing apart.
Halfway through, Dr. Cartwright leaned back in her chair, watching them both carefully.
"There's a lot of unspoken tension," she said, not unkindly. "That's normal. But if you don't address it, it'll fester. Especially for Eli."
Aria shifted, glancing over at Eli, who was building a precarious tower out of blocks.
"I know," she said softly.
Dr. Cartwright tilted her head.
"Aria, what scares you most about trusting Elias again?"
Aria froze.
She hadn't expected that.
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
Across from her, Elias was deathly still.
Finally, she said, "That I'll let my guard down and... he'll leave again. That I'll be the only one holding it together."
Elias flinched like she'd slapped him.
But he didn't argue.
Didn't defend himself.
Just took it.
And somehow, that hurt worse than if he'd fought back.
"And Elias," Dr. Cartwright said, turning to him, "what scares you most?"
He was silent so long that Aria thought he might not answer.
But then he said, voice rough, "That she'll never believe I'm enough. That no matter what I do, I'll never earn back what I broke."
The air between them grew heavy.
Thick.
Eli's tower of blocks toppled over in the corner, startling all three of them.
Dr. Cartwright smiled gently.
"Good. That's honest. That's where we start."
The next few weeks blurred into a haze of court meetings, counseling sessions, and supervised parenting evaluations.
Every step felt like another test.
Another chance to screw it all up.
At night, Aria lay awake for hours, staring at the ceiling.
Sometimes she could hear Elias pacing downstairs.
Sometimes she thought about going down to him.
But she didn't.
Not yet.
One morning, three weeks into the probationary period, everything cracked wide open.
It started with a knock at the door.
Aria answered it, expecting a package or a neighbor.
Instead, she found herself face-to-face with Mariah.
Elias's ex-girlfriend.
The one he'd disappeared with during the worst months of their marriage.
The one he'd sworn was "nothing serious."
The one Aria had never, ever wanted to see again.
For a long second, neither of them spoke.
Mariah was thinner than Aria remembered, her hair bleached almost white, her makeup smeared slightly at the corners.
She looked tired.
Desperate.
"Is Elias here?" Mariah asked, her voice scratchy.
Aria's heart punched against her ribs.
"What do you want?" she said coldly.
Mariah fidgeted, glancing over her shoulder like she was afraid someone might be following her.
"I just... I need to talk to him. Please."
Aria crossed her arms.
"Not happening."
Mariah's face twisted.
"You don't understand. It's important."
Before Aria could respond, Elias appeared behind her, drawn by the noise.
His face went blank when he saw who it was.
"Mariah," he said, voice flat.
Mariah's eyes filled with tears.
"Eli, I —"
"Don't call me that," Elias cut her off sharply.
He stepped outside, pulling the door shut behind him.
Aria pressed her ear against it shamelessly.
She couldn't hear every word, but she caught enough.
Mariah pleading.
Elias cursed under his breath.
Mentions of "money" and "trouble" and something that sounded suspiciously like "blackmail."
Aria's blood ran cold.
When Elias finally came back inside, he looked ten years older.
"What was that?" Aria demanded arms crossed tightly.
He rubbed his face.
"Nothing you need to worry about."
"Bullshit."
He sagged against the door.
"She's in trouble. She thinks I owe her."
"For what?" Aria asked, voice low and dangerous.
Elias hesitated.
Aria narrowed her eyes.
"For what?" she repeated.
He finally said, "When I left... when we were separated... there were some bad months. Drugs. Money problems. She's trying to drag it all back up now."
Aria felt like the floor had dropped out from under her.
"You said you were clean."
"I am," he said quickly. "I have been. For a long time."
"Then why is she here?"
"Because she knows the custody case is still open. She thinks she can threaten me — threaten us — to get what she wants."
Aria's head spun.
"This could ruin everything," she whispered.
Elias's face was grim.
"I know."
That night, after Eli was asleep, Aria and Elias sat in the living room, speaking in hushed tones.
"What does she want exactly?" Aria asked.
"Money," Elias said. "Enough to disappear."
"Can you pay her?"
He shook his head.
"Even if I could, it wouldn't stop there. People like Mariah... they don't stop. They smell weakness and they bleed you dry."
Aria pressed her palms to her eyes.
"This could cost us custody."
"I won't let that happen," Elias said fiercely.
She looked at him, really looked at him.
For once, there was no defensiveness in his posture.
No lies in his voice.
Only fear — and determination.
"What are we going to do?" she asked.
Elias exhaled.
"Fight."
The next morning, Hutchins sat across their kitchen table, grim-faced.
"If Mariah makes allegations in court, it'll trigger an investigation," he said. "Even if nothing comes of it, it'll raise red flags."
Aria felt sick.
"What do we do?"
"We get ahead of it," Hutchins said. "We disclose everything voluntarily. Full transparency. You admit to past mistakes before she can use them against you."
Elias paled.
"You want me to hand them a loaded gun?"
"I want you to survive this," Hutchins snapped. "You come clean. You show you've changed. And we make her look like the liar she is."
Aria leaned forward.
"Will it work?"
Hutchins shrugged grimly.
"It's your best shot."
Two days later, they were back in court.
Aria sat on the same hard bench, hands clenched, heart hammering.
Elias stood before Judge Harrow, his voice steady but low as he admitted to his past — the drugs, the arrests, the financial ruin — all the things Aria had only glimpsed the edges of before.
Her stomach twisted as she listened.
When he finished, there was a long, terrible silence.
Judge Harrow's expression gave away nothing.
Finally, she said, "Thank you for your honesty."
She tapped her pen thoughtfully.
"I'll be ordering an updated psychological evaluation. And a temporary supervisor for all handoffs between parents."
Aria's heart fell.
But it could have been worse.
It should have been worse.
Elias glanced back at her as he stepped down.
She met his gaze — and nodded once.
They were still standing.
For now.