STREETS OF MONTMARTRE, PARIS – 3:37 AM
A thin mist shrouded the cobblestone streets of Montmartre, making the streetlights look like floating ghostly orbs. The cool April air cut to the bone, but Elara didn't feel it. She had just run out of her apartment still in her full pajamas and a hastily thrown-on coat, her bare feet in untied flats.
No destination. Just running. From reality. From David's phone call last night. From the horrific images now haunting her mind: Natasha pregnant. A baby that would forever bind David to that woman.
"No... no... no..." she whispered repeatedly like a mantra, while tears streamed endlessly down her already pale cheeks.
She stopped on a small staircase overlooking the dim Parisian cityscape. Her body went limp, sitting on the cold stone step. The tears she had held back—for Alisha's sake, to keep up appearances—now erupted in the solitude of the early morning.
"How am I supposed to go on living?" she lamented to the sleeping city. "If she's pregnant... that means forever. She will always be there. That child will always be there. Every birthday, every Christmas, every important decision..."
She hugged her knees, her body shaken by deep, painful sobs. "And me? What should I do? Accept a child from the woman who tried to destroy my family? Raise a baby conceived from... from betrayal?"
Her thoughts drifted to Alisha. Her innocent little girl, still asking when "Papa" would come. How do you explain to a child that there will be a baby sibling, but from another woman? From an evil woman?
AN UNEXPECTED PRESENCE
"El."
The voice was soft, familiar, emerging from behind the mist.
Elara lifted her tear-streaked face. There stood Kael with rumpled hair, wearing only a t-shirt and sweatpants, as if he too had woken from sleep and come straight out to search.
"How did you—"
"I saw your apartment light on from two o'clock. Then I saw you leave." Kael approached slowly, like approaching a wounded wild animal. "I followed from a distance. Just wanted to make sure you were safe."
Elara could no longer hold back. She collapsed into Kael's open embrace, her face buried in his shoulder again, her body trembling uncontrollably.
"Shhh... I'm here," whispered Kael, his arms holding her tight, one hand patting her back with a soothing rhythm. "Let it all out. Let everything out."
And Elara cried. Louder, deeper, more desperately than before. Tears for her marriage that might be shattered forever. Tears for Alisha, who would grow up in a broken family. Tears for herself—a woman who felt betrayed by fate, by her husband, by the life that once felt perfect.
"Why, Kael? Why does this have to happen to me?" she sobbed, her voice catching. "What did I do to deserve this?"
"You don't deserve this," Kael said firmly. "You are the best woman I've ever known. This is not your fault."
CONVERSATION IN THE MIST
After the crying subsided into occasional hiccups, they remained seated on the stone steps. Kael had taken off his jacket and draped it over Elara's shoulders.
"David called?" Kael finally asked.
Elara nodded, unable to speak.
"About the pregnancy claim?"
"Yes." Elara's voice was hoarse. "He didn't deny the possibility. Because he... doesn't remember anything from that night."
Kael took a deep breath. "I won't speak ill of David. But El, you have to think of yourself now. And Alisha."
"What should I do, Kael?" Elara looked at him, her eyes swollen and full of despair. "If I leave him now, while he's fighting... I'd feel like a monster. But if I stay... I have to accept that there will always be another woman in our lives. And a child."
Kael wiped a tear from Elara's cheek with his thumb. "Love isn't always about endless sacrifice, El. Sometimes, love for yourself is necessary too."
He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Back then, when we broke up, you chose David because you loved him. That was the right choice for that time. Now... you have a choice again. And no one can blame you, whatever you decide."
Elara gazed at the city of Paris slowly waking below them. "I love him, Kael. Even now, after everything. But that love... it feels like a burden now. Like chains."
"And what do you feel for me?" Kael asked boldly, but without pressure.
Elara closed her eyes. "You... you are the safe harbor. A beautiful memory. The possibility of a simpler life." She opened her eyes. "But is that enough? Or am I just running to you because I'm afraid to face the chaos with David?"
"That is the question you must answer yourself," Kael whispered. "But let me say this: my feelings for you are real. Always real. And I would never give up on someone I love like you."
They sat in silence for a moment as the sky began to change from pitch black to a bluish-grey.
RETURNING TO REALITY
"Now," Kael finally said, standing and offering his hand. "Let's go home. Alisha will wake up and look for her mother."
Elara took his hand. "Thank you, Kael. For everything."
"One more thing," Kael said, holding Elara's hand a little longer. "Whatever happens, whatever you choose, I will be by your side. As a friend, as a guardian, or... as more than that."
As they walked back to the apartment, their hands accidentally brushed. This time, Elara didn't pull away. She let their fingers interlace, feeling the warmth and stability Kael offered.
A MORNING THAT BRINGS A DECISION
Back in the apartment, Elara saw Alisha still sleeping soundly, hugging the cat doll Kael had given her. Madame Claudette was already awake, preparing tea in the kitchen.
"Everything will be alright, Madame Elara," Madame Claudette said in a soothing voice, without asking where Elara had gone. "True love will find its own way."
Elara nodded and went into the bathroom. In the mirror, she saw her swollen face, her red eyes. But something had changed. The panic that had overwhelmed her last night had turned into a cold calm. An acceptance.
She picked up her phone, looked at the last message from David. Then she began typing:
"David. We need to talk. Not over the phone. Face to face. If you can come to Paris, come. But don't bring hope. Bring only the truth. All of it. - El"
She sent the message before she could hesitate. Then she stared at her own reflection in the mirror.
"It's time to face it," she whispered to her reflection. "It's time to choose."
And for the first time since arriving in Paris, her choice no longer felt like it was between two men. But between two versions of herself: the woman who stays and fights, or the woman who walks away and starts anew.
Outside the window, the sun began to rise over Paris, bringing a new day. And with that new day, a decision that would change everything.