Page 12 of The Edge Of Us

"I promised her."

"And I promised you she's a danger to herself and the baby."

My jaw clenched. "She just needs time."

"She needs professional help."

I shook my head. "Not like that. Not locked away."

"Then she needs to be monitored constantly. She shouldn't be left alone with the baby, not until she stabilizes."

I already knew that. I had seen the terror in her eyes, the way her mind twisted reality. And yet, the thought of taking her away from our home, from me, was unbearable.

The door opened wider, and Natasha slipped in, her expression unreadable. "Allen."

I exhaled slowly. "Not now, Nat."

She stepped forward anyway. "You don't have to do this alone."

I looked at her sharply. "You think I don't know that?"

She crossed her arms. "I think you're scared. And I think you don't know how to fix this."

I clenched my jaw, my hold on Kyle tightening. "Of course I don't know how to fix this."

Natasha softened, stepping closer. "We'll help. All of us. She doesn't have to be admitted, but she needs care-round-the-clock care."

I hesitated. "And if it gets worse?"

"Then we make the hard decisions when we have to," she said quietly. "But not today."

I looked down at Kyle, his tiny face peaceful, unaware of the chaos around him. He was my priority now. He had to be.

I turned back to Dr. Reynolds. "We're taking her home."

The doctor exhaled heavily, nodding. "Then you need a plan. A real one."

"I'll handle it."

As I said the words, I wasn't sure if I was trying to convince him-or myself.

Because the truth was, I had no idea how to save the woman I loved from the demons clawing at her mind.

Chapter 8

Allen's POV

Two months had passed since Corinne had come home, and life had descended into absolute chaos. The house that once echoed with love, laughter, and quiet intimacy was now filled with tension, fear, and a suffocating weight that pressed against my chest every second of the day. Corinne's episodes weren't getting better. If anything, they were escalating. And I was drowning.

It had started with small things. Moments where she would stare blankly into space, lost in a world I couldn't reach. Then came the night I found her in the nursery, hands gripping Kyle's tiny body as she held him over the bathtub, whispering about how she needed to cleanse him, how the water would make everything quiet. I had rushed in, pulling my son from her arms, my heart in my throat, trying not to shatter under the weight of what was happening. That night, Corinne sobbed into my chest for hours, apologizing over and over, telling me she didn't know why she had done it. That she had just felt... compelled. It was the first time I truly felt terror in my own home.

But it didn't stop there.

She cried over everything. Spilled milk. A misplaced hairbrush. A photo of us from the Met Gala that she found online, a picture of herself looking radiant, perfect, untouchable. She told me she didn't recognize that woman anymore. That she was gone,buried beneath the weight of sleepless nights and the demons clawing at her mind. Then came the moments of complete disconnection, when she would stare at Kyle and whisper that he wasn't hers. That someone had switched her baby and given her a stranger's child. She would scream when I tried to convince her otherwise, claw at her arms, rock herself in the corner of the room like a wounded animal.

And the sleepwalking.

God, the sleepwalking was the worst.

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