The days following the confirmation of Gabriel's paternity were a blur of intense, emotional negotiations. Rhys and Eliza held almost constant meetings, first legal, then logistical, all centered on stabilizing Gabriel's sudden, changed life. The small Parisian flat, meant to be their haven, became an annex to Eliza's apartment.
Rhys, consumed by guilt and the need to prove his commitment, threw himself entirely into fatherhood. He saw himself as repairing seven years of neglect, and every minute spent on Gabriel felt like a necessary atonement.
Eliza, seeing this desperation, used the child's needs to dictate the new geometry of Rhys's life.
They met at a neutral café to draw up a custody and activity schedule . Melanie sat beside Rhys, attempting to contribute by offering resources and financial solutions, but Eliza consistently steered the conversation away from her.
"Gabriel needs consistency, Rhys, not sudden change," Eliza insisted, adjusting the school pickup times. "It's already a lot for him to suddenly have a 'Daddy.' Having too many new faces around his routines right now... it's destabilizing. I think for the first few months, it has to be just us, the three of us, for the basic logistics."
Rhys immediately agreed, seeing only the boy's well-being. "Of course, Eliza. We prioritize Gabriel. Melanie understands."
Melanie tried to interject, "I'm happy to handle the administrative side, Eliza, or help with his art projects. I have a background in-"
"That's kind of you, Melanie," Eliza cut in, smiling sweetly, "but he really enjoys our private time together. It's helping him bond with Rhys. Maybe in a few months, when he's more settled, we can introduce other elements."
The message was clear: Melanie was an "other element," not a primary player. She was the woman Rhys chose, but Eliza was the woman who gave him his son.
The exclusion was not just logistical; it was emotional. Eliza constantly referenced their shared past, subtle mentions of "that lecture we missed" or "the little bistro we used to frequent," creating a history that Melanie could never penetrate.
Rhys, physically exhausted from late nights spent dealing with the complex legal dissolution of his old firm and early mornings dedicated to Gabriel, was too drained to notice the pattern. He saw Eliza as a co-conspirator in the grand project of Fatherhood.
One Saturday morning, Rhys canceled a crucial video conference with his U.S. contacts, the very start of the ethical consulting firm he and Melanie planned, to take Gabriel to the Jardin des Plantes.
"It's a father-son tradition," Eliza had told Rhys the night before, her voice soft with nostalgic importance. "We haven't been in months, and he asked for you to take him. Just the two of you."
Rhys, beaming with pride, accepted the mandate. He left early, kissing Melanie distractedly on the forehead, apologizing for the change of plans.
Melanie watched him go, the sting of being left behind secondary to the devastating realization that their future was being systematically dismantled by the emotional claims of the past. The silence in the apartment was deafening. The guilt Rhys carried,
the weight of those seven lost years, was forcing him into a pattern of behavior that prioritized the life of the past over the reality of the present.
That night, Rhys returned late, physically drained but emotionally exhilarated, recounting every detail of Gabriel's day; How easy-going Gabriel was, how it felt to be called 'daddy'. He fell asleep holding Melanie, but his mind was clearly miles away, caught in the complex geometry of his new responsibility.
Melanie lay awake, staring into the darkness. She was the silent partner in a new, impossible family, a strategic mind rendered powerless by the genuine needs of a child and the overwhelming guilt of the man she loved. She knew this tension couldn't last. Something had to break.