Page 63 of The Edge Of Us

When the interview ended, I sat in silence, letting the weight of everything collapse on me. A few hours passed. I don’t know how many. I called my mother.

“She told her story,” I said into the phone, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” she replied. “I watched it too.”

Silence.

“I didn’t know she was that hurt.”

“Because you didn’t want to know,” my mother said gently. “But now that you do, the question is… what are you going to do?”

I thought of the kids. Kyle’s wide smile when he talked about rockets. Astrid’s giggle when she hugged Corine’s leg and refused to let go. I hadn’t seen them in weeks. They were in New York with her. I used to use work as an excuse. Now? I had none left.

“I’m going to be their father again,” I told her.

“And Corine?”

I exhaled, closing my eyes. “I don’t expect forgiveness. But maybe… maybe I can rebuild a bridge through the kids. Maybe I can be a man she doesn't have to fear anymore.”

“Then start there,” my mother said. “But take care of yourself first. You can’t give them a healed version of you if you haven’t healed.”

That was the moment something inside me cracked open. I’d been spiraling quietly since the divorce, pretending I was fine, pretending it hadn’t gutted me. But it had.

So, I booked an appointment with a therapist. A real one. Not some executive counselor who throws platitudes at you in between meetings. I found someone who understood grief, guilt, and the weight of being the man who caused it.

But before that… I needed to see her. I needed to see them.

I stood up, grabbed my jacket, and called the pilot.

“Get the jet ready,” I said. “We’re going to New York.”

He didn’t ask questions. He never did.

As I packed, I stared at a photo I kept hidden in the drawer. Corine, Kyle, and Astrid—back when we were still pretending to be happy. Her smile in that photo was real though. I remembered the day. It was Kyle’s second birthday. She made the cake herself and cried because she messed up the frosting. But he didn’t care. He was happy. And so was she.

Now, all I could hope was that when I showed up at that penthouse, she wouldn’t slam the door in my face.

I wasn’t expecting a miracle.

But I’d take a second chance… even if it was just a moment to hold Astrid and remind Kyle I was still his dad.

That night, in the sky, I stared out of the jet window and let the tears fall freely. Quietly.

For the first time in years, I wasn’t running from the mess I made.

I was flying straight into it.

Chapter 37

Corine

That morning, I woke up with an odd blend of nerves and excitement buzzing in my chest. The sun slipped lazily through the cream curtains of my penthouse bedroom, catching on the gold detailing that had once made this place feel too big for just me and the kids. Now, it was filled with light... and laughter.

Astrid's tiny voice filtered in from the hallway, a babble of toddler syllables, followed by the light patter of her feet. I hadn't even made it to the mirror yet before I felt her climb onto the bed.

"Mamaaaaaa," she squealed, her curls bouncing, cheeks puffed like little apples. She was in one of Kyle's old shirts, dragging a pink beauty blender behind her like it was a stuffed animal.

I laughed, brushing the sleep from my eyes. "Astrid, you stole my blender again, didn't you?"

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