Chapter 136 - 0136: I Would’ve Been Good To You

Chapter 136: Chapter 0136: I Would’ve Been Good To You

A/N: Hello guys, I understand that updates have been really... really slow for all my books, and I’m apologizing for that. My laptop’s keyboard have been acting out and it’s been changed, so bear with me for a while.????????

Elena’s Point Of View

The drive felt like a runaway heartbeat, every miles-per-hour on the speedometer echoing the chaotic, erratic thumping in my ribcage. My hands clenched the leather-wrapped steering wheel so tightly that the skin over my knuckles turned a stark, bloodless white, my fingers cramping into stiff hooks.

Lexy’s question kept hammering relentlessly at the back of my skull like a heavy brass drum I couldn’t silence, no matter how hard I tried to drown it out.

*’What do you want, Elena?’*

It should’ve been an easy question. A simple, basic question that any normal human being could answer in a single breath. Everyone else seemed to know precisely what they wanted out of this life. Freedom. Safety. Love. Closure. Revenge.

But my thoughts twisted into ugly, jagged circles—a tangled, brutal knot that refused to untangle, pulling tighter and tighter until it cut off my air supply.

The city blurred past my driver’s side window in a smear of dull gray and muted color... bustling coffee shops, red traffic lights, ordinary strangers holding hands or walking dogs on the pavement. None of it felt real. None of it registered. I didn’t even know where I was driving, only stepping harder on the gas pedal, instinctively feeling that every single mile I put between myself and that fitting room, between myself and Graham’s suffocating estate, was the only reason my lungs hadn’t completely collapsed.

The afternoon sun hit the dashboard, catching the sharp, blinding glint of the ring on my left hand. Graham’s ring. A heavy band of platinum and flawless diamonds that didn’t feel like jewelry; it felt like an iron shackle rusted straight into my bone. I shifted one hand off the wheel, twisting the cold metal frantically, pulling at it until the skin at my joint turned raw and red. I even slammed my hand down toward the electric window button, intending to rip the damned thing off and fling it into the asphalt at sixty miles an hour.

But my fingers wouldn’t let go. My hand froze, trembling violently against the armrest. It was as though my own body and mind were at war with each other, trapped in a stalemate where neither side could win.

"God..." I muttered into the empty cabin of the car, my breath hitching as a violent, scalding sting flooded the backs of my eyes. "I just want to be free. Please. Just let me be free."

Free from Graham’s icy, controlling grip. Free from Jaxx’s terrifying, intoxicating pull. Free from the fractured, unrecognizable wreck of a woman I had allowed myself to become.

The asphalt narrowed, the city noise giving way to the thick canopy of ancient trees rising high on either side of the road, their leaves a dying patchwork of fading green and heavy gold.

Without consciously deciding to turn, my hands cut the wheel, veering the sedan off the main highway onto a small, gravel road lined with white wooden fences and wild, overgrown flowers.

And then, emerging like a hidden sanctuary forgotten by the rest of the world, the lake appeared.

It was exactly as I remembered it from my childhood... wide, deep, and shimmering, acting as a flawless, massive mirror for the overcast sky.

People dotted the grassy banks under the warm sun. Couples were stretched out across plaid picnic blankets, sharing smiles and quiet whispers. Children skipped stones across the glassy surface, their loud, bright laughter floating through the afternoon air.

It was a clear, ringing sound... a sound of pure, unadulterated joy that I hadn’t realized my ears were starving for until this very second.

I pulled the car under the wide, sweeping branches of a weeping willow, shifting into park, and killed the engine.

For a long, suffocating moment, I couldn’t move. I just sat there in the driver’s seat, my forehead slumped heavily against the center of the leather steering wheel, the heavy, dead silence of the car wrapping around me like a dark cocoon.

My heart hammered against my ribs, each throb bringing a dull, hollow ache to my throat.

Then, agonizingly, I pushed the heavy car door open and stepped out into the cool air.

The breeze blowing off the surface of the water was sharp, teasing loose, dark strands of my hair across my flushed cheeks. I walked toward the muddy edge of the lake, my designer heels sinking slightly into the soft, damp earth, and stood staring down at the water.

The lake was so still it almost looked fake, like a painting stretched across the earth. Every tiny ripple, every glint of sunlight breaking through the clouds felt like a gentle balm offered to a wound that was far too deep to ever heal.

My fingers twitching at my sides, itching to reach down and break the surface, to feel something cold and real, but I remained frozen where I stood, condemned to watch other people’s bright, effortless happiness from the bleak sidelines of my own life.

A few yards away, two young teenagers were tossing flat rocks, squealing with delight whenever a stone bounced four, five, six times across the water. A young father was down on his knees in the dirt, helping his toddler daughter build a lopsided castle out of damp sand and pebbles, his face bright with pride.

And just a few feet to my right, a woman in a floral dress stood wrapped in her husband’s arms as they tossed stale breadcrumbs to a family of ducks swimming near the reeds.

It was all so ordinary. So quiet. So heartbreakingly, agonizingly normal.

And I was standing right in the middle of it like a dark stain. A ghost wearing an expensive dress and a wedding ring. A complete stranger to the girl I used to be.

I squeezed my eyes shut against the scene, a cold shiver running down my arms. What do I want?

Freedom. That was the only answer that came out clean through the noise in my head. Not Graham. Not Jaxx. Not anyone’s touch or anyone’s promises. Just... to exist without pain.

I didn’t hear the soft, rapid footsteps at first... just the quick, light patter of tiny sneakers running over the damp grass. Then came the sudden, soft impact of a small body bumping directly against the side of my legs.

My eyes snapped open.

A little boy... he couldn’t have been more than four or five years old, was sitting flat on his bottom on the grass right at my feet, blinking his massive, round eyes up at me. He must have been sprinting, because his chubby cheeks were flushed a bright, rosy pink, his soft blonde curls messy and sticking to his forehead.

"Oh..." The breath left my lungs in a sharp gasp. I crouched down on the grass, my hands reaching out to catch his tiny, fragile arms. "Are you okay, sweetheart? Oh gosh, did you fall?"

He didn’t cry. He just sat there in the grass, momentarily dazed, his small, warm fists reaching out and curling tightly into the silk fabric of my skirt, holding onto me as if I were a solid anchor in a vast, dizzying world.

"I’m fine," he whispered, though his tiny voice trembled with the shock of the tumble.

A sudden, overwhelming wave of tenderness surged through my chest so fast it made my vision blur. I offered him a soft, reassuring smile, my trembling fingers gently brushing the damp dirt and grass blades off his tiny knees. "You’ve got to watch where you’re running, okay, buddy? Where’s your mommy?"

He didn’t answer me. He didn’t look away either. His wide, innocent eyes remained locked onto mine, searching my face with an intense, unblinking clarity.

Something flickered deep in those clear blue eyes... a strange mixture of confusion, sudden recognition, and absolute, unwavering trust.

I tilted my head, my heart giving a strange, uncomfortable flutter. "Hey. Do you know where your parents are, little guy?"

And then, softly, the word tumbled out of his tiny mouth like a heavy stone slipping into deep, quiet water:

"Mama."

My entire body went instantly, completely rigid. The wind stopped. The earth seemed to freeze on its axis.

"What?" I whispered, the sound barely escaping my throat.

He blinked up at me, his rosy bottom lip trembling slightly as if he were on the very edge of tears, his small, warm hand lifting off my skirt.

His tiny, soft fingers reached upward, brushing with pure, innocent trust against the pulse point on my exposed wrist.

"Mama," he said again, louder this time, his childish voice trembling with a terrifying blend of fragile hope and childish confusion.

In that single, agonizing second, the entire universe collapsed around me. The bright laughter of the teenagers by the shore evaporated. The soft, rhythmic lap of the lake against the rocks ceased to exist. The distant hum of cars on the highway was wiped away completely.

The only sound left in the world, ringing in my ears with the force of a shattering mirror, was that one single word, tearing me wide open from the inside out.

Mama.

It felt as though an invisible blade had been driven deep into the center of my chest, dragging downward to carve my heart straight out of my ribs.

I swallowed, forcing cold, jagged air into lungs that had completely forgotten how to function. "No... no, sweetheart," I choked out, forcing my trembling body to stay crouched at his eye level even as my knees threatened to give out.

His big, luminous blue eyes stayed fixed on mine... so bright, so clear, searching my face for a mother’s love that wasn’t there. "I’m not your mommy, baby. You can’t go around calling strangers your mom, okay?"

He pouted his lips, his small forehead crumpling into a confused frown, clearly not understanding why the woman holding him was shaking so hard. "But you... you look just like her. Beautiful... You."

My throat constricted until it felt like raw glass. I forced a shaky, painful smile onto my face, reaching out with a hand that was visibly shivering to gently smooth his soft hair away from his forehead. "I’m sure your real mommy is looking all over for you right now. Let’s find her together, okay?"

And as if summoned by the sheer panic of the universe, a man and a woman came bursting through the trees, absolute terror written across their pale faces.

"Ethan!" the woman shrieked, dropping to her knees on the grass and scooping the little boy up into her arms before he could even register her presence. She held him against her neck, burying her face in his curls before looking up at me, gasping for breath. "Oh my God... thank you! Thank you so much! I turned my head for two seconds to grab his juice box and he was just gone..."

The husband arrived a second later, placing a hand on his chest, his shoulders heaving as he caught his breath. "We were completely terrified. Thank you, ma’am. Thank you for holding onto him."

I nodded numbly, keeping my lips pressed tight together because I knew if I opened my mouth, a sob would rip out of me. "It’s... it’s alright," I managed to squeak out, my voice raspy and thin. "Kids run fast."

The mother pulled the little boy close, turning to walk back toward their picnic spot, but over her shoulder, little Ethan looked back at me one last time. His tiny hand reached out over his mother’s back, fingers stretching toward me through the air.

"Mama..." he murmured again, his small voice faint, but clear enough to slice through my ribs and shatter whatever was left of my soul.

And then they walked away.

I stood completely frozen on the muddy bank for what felt like an eternity, the gentle, rhythmic sound of the lake lapping against the shore wrapping around me like a quiet, agonizing taunt.

Every burst of laughter from the nearby families stung like handfuls of salt rubbed directly into a gaping, bloody wound. Couples walked along the water’s edge, fingers intertwined, their children darting ahead of them on the grass... giggling, carefree, wild, and utterly alive.

My legs finally gave out.

I sank slowly, heavily down onto a cold wooden bench near the shore, my knees trembling so violently that my heels knocked against the dirt. My vacant gaze fixed on the water, watching the golden sunlight catch the ripples in blinding, fleeting flashes.

Unconsciously, my left hand moved, floating up to rest flat over my lower stomach.

Flat. Cold. Empty. Silent.

How many times had I laid awake in the dead of night, pressing my hands against this exact spot, praying until my voice was raw, desperately imagining my belly rounded and heavy with life?

How many hundreds of times had I pressed my palm here in the darkness of Graham’s guest bedroom, whispering breathless, desperate tears to a God who felt completely deaf to my existence?

I tightly closed my eyes, but closing them provided no escape. The memories hit me like a physical blow... a sudden, violent storm dragging me back to that sterile, blindingly white doctor’s office two years ago.

I could still smell the sharp scent of antiseptic. I could still see the doctor’s face, his clinical, practiced expression, his voice soft, professional, and deadly: "I’m so sorry, Elena. The scar tissue from the severe inflammation is extensive. Your chances of ever carrying a pregnancy to term are... extremely low. Virtually non-existent."

I remembered what I did next. I remembered sitting on that paper-lined exam table, lifting my chin, and forcing a beautiful, perfect, fake smile onto my face.

I smiled like everything was completely fine. I smiled as if my entire heart hadn’t just been stomped into bloody dust right there on the linoleum floor. I looked him in the eye, said,

"Thank you for being honest, Doctor," and walked out of that hospital on steady legs, pretending to be strong. Pretending I didn’t care. Pretending I was fine being just a wife.

But I was lying.

God, I was lying so hard it broke me.

It mattered. It mattered every single time I walked down a street and saw a mother pushing a stroller. It mattered every time I walked past a toy store window filled with plush bears and miniature clothes.

It mattered every single time I was forced to stand in a room full of societal women at Graham’s corporate galas, listening to them complain about their toddlers’ sleep schedules or messy finger-paintings, completely oblivious to the unimaginable, miraculous gift they were holding in their hands.

It mattered because I would have given my breath, my blood, my very soul for that pain.

I wanted the exhaustion. I wanted the middle-of-the-night feedings. I wanted the messy floorboards, the scattered toys, the sticky fingerprints on the walls. I wanted to be someone’s safe harbor. I wanted to be a child’s entire world.

I wanted, more than life itself, to hear a tiny voice call me ’mama’ ...and know that I had brought them into this world, that they were mine, that I was allowed to keep them.

A hot, fat tear squeezed past my eyelashes, tracking a scalding line down my cheek before dripping off my jaw. I reached up, wiping it away roughly with the back of my hand, but another took its place immediately. And then another. And another.

Within seconds, the dam completely broke. My vision dissolved into a blurred, watery haze until the lake, the trees, and the sky melted into a smear of blue, green, and silver.

"I didn’t hurt anybody..." I whispered aloud into the quiet wind, my voice cracking, raw and pathetic. "I tried to be good. I tried to do everything right. So why? Why me? What did I do to deserve this empty, useless body?"

I stared out at the water as if the lake owed me an answer, as if the sky could explain the cruelty of my reality.

Ever since I was a little girl playing with baby dolls on my bedroom carpet, I had talked about being a mother. I had dreamed about it constantly.

I used to tell anyone who would listen how I would raise my children with so much warmth, how I would never make them feel invisible the way my own mother made me feel.

I had spent years picturing a warm, noisy house filled with sunlight and chaotic laughter... walls decorated with handprints, bedtime stories read by nightlights, tiny bare feet pitter-pattering down the hallway on Christmas morning.

And now... now my reality was a silent, icy mansion with a husband who viewed me as an ornament, and a dark, dangerous man who wanted to consume what was left of my shattered spirit.

Life had taken my sweetest, purest dream, thrown it onto the concrete, and crushed it into dust beneath its heel, leaving me with nothing but a hollow chest, an empty womb, and a soul drowning in suffocating envy.

I pressed my palm harder, deeper against my stomach, digging my nails through the silk dress into my skin, as if I could physically force life to ignite inside me, as if I could scream loud enough to make my own broken biology listen to me.

"I would’ve been so good to you," I sobbed aloud, the words tearing out of my throat like sharp shards of glass. "I would’ve loved you more than my own life. I would’ve protected you from everything... I would’ve given you the world..."

My voice completely broke. The sentence dissolved into a harsh, strangled wail that tore through the quiet air of the park.

I folded completely in half on that cold wooden bench, burying my wet face in my trembling hands, and let the dam burst wide open. The sound of my ugly, desperate sobbing was swallowed up by the gentle rustle of the willow trees and the soft, eternal crash of the water against the rocks.

I didn’t care who saw me. I didn’t care if the couples turned to stare at the crazy woman crying on the bench. I didn’t care if the entire world watched me fall apart.

The pain came in relentless, crushing waves... sharp, suffocating, endless, dragging me under until I couldn’t tell where the heartache ended and where I began.

All around me, the world kept moving. Life went on effortlessly... people laughed, footsteps patted against the dirt, conversations drifted on the breeze. But for me, time had completely stopped.

And there, by the edge of that quiet lake, surrounded by the bright echoes of everything I had lost and everything I would never be allowed to hold, I broke down completely, my burning tears falling into the mud like tiny, shattered pieces of myself that would never, ever come back.