Chapter 2 - The House in the SnowThe warmth of the small apartment rushed over us as Ethan stepped inside, shedding the chill of the Indianapolis night. He didn't look around with the judgmental eyes I had feared; instead, his gaze was gentle, taking in the sagging thrift-store sofa, the stack of unpaid utility notices neatly organized on the desk, and the quiet, heavy atmosphere of a home running on empty.
"Her name is Sophie?" Ethan asked quietly, keeping his voice low so as not to startle her further.
"Yes," I answered, clutching my phone in one hand while using the other to wipe away the remaining moisture from my cheeks. "She's seven months old. Well, technically five months adjusted, since she arrived two months early."
From the bedroom, Sophie let out another soft whimpering sound.
"Go to her," Ethan said, nodding toward the hall. "I'll start the water for the bottle."
I hesitated for a fraction of a second, then rushed down the hall to scoop my daughter into my arms. Her tiny body felt far too light against my chest, her skin warm and flushed with the beginning of a mild fever from her cold. I carried her back out to the kitchen, where Ethan was already standing by the stove, efficiently sterilizing one of the new bottles with a calm, practiced ease that caught me completely off guard.
"Do you have children?" I asked, watching him measure the warm water with precise care.
"No," he said softly, shaking a scoop of powder into the bottle and swirling it until every last clump dissolved. "Just a lot of nieces and nephews. You learn how to move quickly when you're the designated babysitter."
He handed the warm bottle to me. I sat down immediately in the old rocking chair in the corner of the kitchen, guiding the nipple to Sophie’s lips. For a second, she paused, sniffing the air—and then her little mouth clamped onto the rubber with a desperate, rhythmic intensity that made my throat tighten all over again.
The apartment fell into a profound, sacred silence, broken only by the sound of her swallowing.
A heavy, ugly sob finally escaped my throat, tearing its way out of my chest. I buried my face in my free hand, humiliated that a complete stranger was witnessing my absolute lowest point.
"I'm not a bad mother," I whispered into the quiet air, the words tasting like ash.
Ethan pulled out a wooden chair from the kitchen table and sat down across from me, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. His gaze was steady, piercing, and entirely devoid of pity.
"I never thought you were," he said.
"Then why can't I feed my own baby?" I choked out, the anger and despair boiling over. "I worked forty hours a week until I was eight months pregnant. I saved every penny I could. But when the hospital bills piled up, and when my employer decided that a mother with a premature baby in the ICU was too much of a liability... it all just vanished. I'm drowning, Ethan. And I don't know how to swim anymore."
Ethan looked at me for a long, heavy moment. He didn't offer empty platitudes or toxic positivity. He reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a slim leather cardholder, and slid a heavy, embossed black business card across the wooden table toward my hand.
My breath caught in my throat.
The metallic silver lettering gleamed under the harsh overhead light.
COLE INDUSTRIES
Ethan Cole — Chief Executive Officer
I stared at the card, the blood draining completely from my face.
Cole Industries.
The massive, multinational logistics and manufacturing corporation headquartered downtown. The exact corporation that, over the past three months, had rejected my employment applications twice—once for a remote customer service role, and once for an entry-level inventory coordinator position. Both times, automated rejection emails had landed in my inbox within forty-eight hours, telling me my qualifications didn't meet their standards.
Before I could process the surreal reality of the man sitting in my kitchen, Ethan’s cell phone—resting on the table beside my phone—lit up with an incoming call.
The screen flashed with a name that made my blood run instantly cold.
May you like
It was the name of the man who had abandoned me the moment I told him I was pregnant—the man who had blocked my number, changed his offices, and vanished from my life entirely over a year ago.
And as Ethan looked down at the screen, his jaw tightened into a hard, unforgiving line.
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