Chapter 57– “Things That Grow in the Quiet”

Bonus Chapter(2/2) 

I still await new collections , If you like the story and want even more bonus chapters then kindly keeping on adding to the Library, and I hope you'll stick with me to the end 😇😇😇😇.

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Eliza's boots crunched lightly on the gravel path, the late afternoon sun painting long golden shadows through the trees. Central Park in the fall was quieter than usual—a rare hush settling over the winding walkways, broken only by the soft murmur of leaves overhead and the occasional bark of a distant dog.

Will walked beside her, fingers interlaced with hers, warmth and certainty in the way his thumb brushed against her knuckle again and again.

They hadn't said much since leaving the apartment.

But it wasn't silence.

It was space.

Space for breaths, for thoughts, for the strange gravity of everything she now carried—literally and otherwise.

"Did you always want to be a father?" she asked, not looking at him.

Will didn't answer right away. His gaze drifted toward the playground up ahead. A little boy was climbing a jungle gym while his mother watched nearby, one hand pressed to her lower back, the other steadying a stroller.

"I didn't think I'd be good at it," he said at last. "Still don't. But I want to try. With you."

Her hand tightened slightly in his.

"I don't know what kind of mother I'll be," she admitted. "My model wasn't exactly gentle."

"You're not her."

"I know. But there are days I still carry her voice in my head."

He stopped, turning to her.

"Eliza, I've seen you burn down boardrooms without blinking. I've seen you hold yourself together when everything around you was collapsing. And I've seen you—" he paused, his voice softening, "—learn how to let someone love you without turning it into a power play."

Her breath hitched.

"You're going to be more than enough," he said. "Because you already are."

They stood there for a moment, on the edge of what was next.

Then he reached into his coat pocket and pulled something out.

A notebook.

Worn. Soft-covered. Bound in leather.

"What's this?" she asked.

"It's for you. For the baby. For us."

She opened it.

Inside, on the first page, he'd written:

To the future we didn't expect—but chose anyway.

She blinked fast, the words blurring.

"Write what you want them to know," he said. "Even if it's messy. Especially then."

Eliza closed the notebook gently and looked at him—this man who had once been nothing but fire and edges. Who now walked beside her like a promise made real.

She kissed him—slow and full and grateful.

And beneath the quiet trees, something new took root.

Not just a child.

But the shape of their next beginning.