Page 58 of One Little Mistake

Why did he leave me, leave us?

A bitter smile twists my lips. Before I can change my mind, driven by emotion, I grab my phone and start deleting every social media account I own.

No more refreshing Max’s page every five minutes. No more wondering where he is, who he’s with. No more clinging to hope like a fool, only to one day see a smiling photo of him with someone else.

And just to finish it off, I block his number too.

I exhale sharply. It feels good. Really good.

Like the first step into a new life—one without him.

I have a future to build. I have someone tiny and precious to live for. I’m not a scared little girl anymore. I have a job. I’m independent. I’m grateful for my baby.

And as for Max... there will be other men in my life.

Better ones.

I push the door open and march toward the kitchen. The rich smell of toasted bread fills the air.

I stop in the doorway, watching Max’s broad back. He’s fiddling with the coffeemaker, getting breakfast ready, and a wave of guilt crashes over me. As if crashing at his place uninvited wasn’t enough, now I’m just here being completely useless.

“Let me help,” I offer, stepping closer, but freeze when he shoots me a pointed look.

I quickly change course and sit down at the table instead.

“Is Tim still sleeping?” I ask awkwardly, glancing around the room.

God, what must he think of me? Some mother—handing her newborn to a stranger and locking herself in the bathroom.

“Yeah, I put him down in his crib,” Max says.

“Thank you.”

“Any news about your boyfriend?” he asks, jerking his chin toward the phone clutched in my hand before turning back around.

“No. Nothing yet.”

My voice sinks lower. I scramble for another topic.

“Do you think the roads will be cleared by evening?”

“Maybe,” he says. “But they’re calling for the weather to get worse this afternoon. So, chances are, we’re getting snowed in again.”

He sets a plate down in front of me, then places a mug of tea beside it.

“Hope this is okay. I’m not sure if there are any things you’re supposed to avoid.”

“It’s fine,” I say, pulling the plate closer.

I can’t help but watch him again—something about him keeps drawing my eyes, and I can’t quite figure out what.

“We could invite Vivienne over,” Max says after a beat, flashing a tense little smirk. “I’m sure you two would have plenty to talk about.”

“I… I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I stammer, feeling heat creep up my neck. “It would just be…awkward.”

“What exactly would be awkward?”

He arches a brow at me, waiting.

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