Page 84 of One Little Mistake

“Come in,” Max says, opening the door for me, and I peer into the apartment warily.

A few pairs of sneakers by the door. Unpacked suitcases. Minimal furniture. An open-plan kitchen, a bedroom, a small office. The layout is almost identical to Max’s place in apartment 217. It’s small, not yet lived in. A nervous chuckle escapes my lips when I spot the bookshelf along the wall—technical manuals, a reference dictionary. This is insane. Like someone’s playing a cruel joke on us.

Max watches me closely as I take everything in, not taking his eyes off me.

“When did you come back?” I ask in a whisper, avoiding his gaze.

“A week ago.”

“I see.”

“And where have you been all this time?” he asks, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

“I…” I want to tell him I was living in someone else’s apartment, the one I thought was his, but I decide he doesn’t need that much detail. “A neighbor helped me into a vacant apartment—I thought it was yours. Later, I rented a studio on the sixth floor.”

We stare at each other in silence. I search his familiar features, trying to understand what I feel toward him now. Suddenly, Max closes the distance between us in a few quick steps and pulls me into his arms.

“My girl… I was so worried,” he murmurs, kissing the top of my head. I freeze. His touch, his nearness—none of it stirs the same storm of emotions it once did.

“And who was that guy with you?” he suddenly asks, looking me straight in the eyes.

“That’s… just a neighbor,” I lie boldly, not wanting him to know anything about the other Max. “He knows I live alone with the baby and helps me out sometimes.”

“He touched you? Did something happen between you two?” Max’s voice suddenly hardens, his eyes turning sharp.

“What? Of course not,” I laugh nervously, instinctively taking a step back.

“Are you sure?”

“Max, I was pregnant. I was just recently discharged from the hospital because the delivery had complications—I could’ve died. And you think I was chasing guys during all that?” My voice rises, anger bubbling up. “And anyway, why didn’t you call or text me more often?”

“Come on, babe, you know how shitty the signal is in the middle of the ocean—if there’s even a signal at all. And you could’ve called me, right? You had my number, unlike me. You erased every trace of yourself. Deleted your socials, too.”

“Don’t flip this on me.”

“Alright, alright, calm down.” He exhales. “Damn, I still can’t believe I’m a dad.” He walks over to the couch where Tim is peacefully lying. “He looks like me,” Max says with a soft smile.

I wrap my arms around myself, feeling awkward and out of place. I want to close my eyes and rewind everything. I had finally made peace with being alone, with Max being a liar. And now… what? How am I supposed to shift gears in five minutes and forget everything I went through while he was gone? How am I supposed to forget there’s another man out there—someone I could’ve spent tonight with, someone I actually like?

I feel awful. The father of my child, the man I once said I loved, is right next to me, and all I can think about is someone else. But how can I trust this Max again? How do I know he’s telling the truth? It all sounds convincing, yes, but a seed of doubt has already been planted deep inside me.

Max walks me back to my apartment, and I’m relieved when he doesn’t insist I stay with him. He scans everything in the apartment with jealous eyes, even opens the closet doors like he expects to find another guy hiding inside. He’s in no rush to leave.

“Do you need money? Maybe something for the kid?” he suddenly asks, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

“No, we have everything we need. Thanks.”

“I’ll leave some cash just in case. You never know—I might have to visit my parents or something.”

He pulls out his wallet and counts out several hundred-dollar bills. Lays them on the table. I want to hand them back, but I don’t have the strength to argue right now. Besides, he is Tim’s father—he should take part in raising his son.

“Well, I’ll get going,” he mumbles, avoiding my gaze. “I’ll stop by tomorrow. We’ll talk then. I’ve got a meeting at four today, so I have to run.”

“Yeah, of course,” I exhale with relief. I desperately need some space. Some silence to process Max’s sudden return.

“Don’t disappear on me again, baby.” He gives me a quick kiss on the lips, then walks over to Tim, gently touches his tiny hand, lingers for a moment, just looking at his son—and finally rushes out the door.

I slide down the wall and sit on the floor. My head is spinning. No clear thoughts. I don’t know what to do first. Everything is slipping from my hands. I’m nowhere near calm.

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