At those words, Elissa couldn’t hold back anymore. Tears spilled freely down her cheeks.

“Elissa…” Hadley whispered, her own heart heavy. She didn’t know what to say. There was no right answer.

Elissa couldn’t go back to Ernest. But she couldn’t take Locke with her, either.

Later, when Hadley left the hotel and slid into the car, she hadn’t even reached for her phone before it rang. She answered quickly. “Hello, Ernest.”

“Hadley,” Ernest said at once. “You saw Elissa? How is she?”

“She’s alright,” Hadley replied, her tone gentle but cautious. “Mrs. Brown cooked for her. She actually managed to eat something—an omelette. She didn’t throw up.”

“Really?” His voice lifted immediately, a flash of joy breaking through. “That’s… that’s great.” He didn’t wait long. “And? What else?”

What else…

Hadley hesitated. Her grip on the phone tightened. Her voice lowered, turning somber. “Ernest… her mom’s planning to take her back to Ontmond.”

There was silence on the other end. Heavy. Still. Like a weight dropped between them.

“I understand.” After a long pause, Ernest finally spoke, his voice low. “Thank you, Hadley.”

“You’re welcome. Alright, Ernest, I’m hanging up now,” Hadley said gently.

“Okay.”

The moment the call ended, Ernest lowered the phone and gripped it tightly. The plastic creaked under the pressure of his fingers. A knock came at the study door.

“Come in.”

Locke peeked inside, then padded over to him.

“Daddy,” he said, stopping in front of Ernest. “I finished my homework. I took a bath too.”

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He stood there, freshly scrubbed and clearly ready for bed.

“Alright.” Ernest set the phone aside and leaned down to lift him into his arms. “Daddy will take you to your room.”

“Okay.” Locke wrapped his arms around his neck and blinked up at him. “Daddy, when is Mommy coming home?”

Ever since Locke came home the other day and found Elissa gone, Ernest hadn’t been able to tell him the truth. He said Mommy was feeling unwell because of the baby in her tummy and needed to stay at the hospital to rest. It had taken a while to calm the boy down—to dry his tears and quiet the tantrum. But even now, Locke asked the same question over and over, day after day.

“Do you miss Mommy?” Ernest asked softly, doing his best to hold himself together. “Let’s be patient, okay? For Mommy. For your baby sibling. You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

Locke pouted, puffing out his cheeks. “Then can I call her?”

Hearing that, Ernest froze.

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