Bellamy’s POV
I don't wake Sophie when she finally falls asleep around four AM.
She'd been crying for hours—not the violent sobbing from earlier, but the quiet, endless kind that slowly drains a person dry. Eventually exhaustion claimed her mid-sentence, her body simply shutting down because it couldn't sustain consciousness and grief simultaneously.
I cover her carefully with the blanket, making sure it's tucked around her shoulders. Then I turn my attention to the apartment and Amelia.
The nursery first. Amelia needs a diaper change—she's been sleeping through her mother's breakdown, mercifully oblivious. I lift her gently, change her with practiced efficiency, prepare a bottle for when she wakes fully.
She blinks up at me with those wide eyes that look exactly like Adrian's, and something in my chest tightens.
She deserves better than this. Deserves a father who stays.
I move to the kitchen next. Dishes have been piling in the sink—evidence of the slow deterioration that's been happening for weeks. I wash them quietly, dry them, put them away. Wipe down the counters. Take out the trash that's overflowing.
Small tasks that make the space feel less abandoned.
The apartment looks the same as always—furniture in the right places, photos on the walls, Amelia's toys scattered across the living room floor.
But it feels fundamentally different now. Like the structure holding everything together just collapsed, and I'm standing in the rubble trying to figure out what can be salvaged.
Sophie is alone with a three-month-old baby. Adrian is gone with no timeline for return, maybe no intention of returning at all. The fragile life they'd been barely maintaining has completely imploded.
And I'm here. Standing in Adrian's kitchen at five AM, washing his dishes, caring for his daughter, loving his girlfriend.
The reality of that settles over me with strange clarity. I'm in love with Sophie. Have been for longer than I want to admit. Watching her suffer while Adrian systematically destroyed them became unbearable weeks ago.
Now he's gone, and I can finally be what she needs without professional boundaries or guilt about crossing lines.
The thought should feel wrong. Should make me uncomfortable.
Instead it just feels inevitable.
Sophie wakes around nine AM, disoriented and hollow-eyed. She sits up slowly on the couch, looks around like she can't quite remember where she is or how she got here.
Then it hits her. I see the moment memory crashes back—her face crumples before she controls it, forces herself to breathe.
"Amelia—"
"Fed and changed. She's in her bouncer." I gesture to where the baby sits contentedly, watching the mobile spin above her.
Sophie nods, doesn't quite meet my eyes. "You stayed."
"All night. Made breakfast." I bring over the plate I prepared twenty minutes ago when I heard her stirring. Scrambled eggs, toast, fruit. Simple food that won't overwhelm a stomach that probably can't handle much.
She looks at the plate like it's a foreign object. "I'm not hungry."
"Try anyway. Just a few bites."
She picks at the eggs halfheartedly, manages two forkfuls before setting it aside. I don't push.
We sit in uncomfortable silence for a long moment. Amelia babbles happily in the background, oblivious to the tension.
"We need to talk." I keep my voice gentle but firm. "About how this is going to work now."
Sophie's laugh is hollow. "How what's going to work? There's just me now. And I don't…" Her voice cracks. "I don't know if I can carry her alone, Bellamy. Not all of it. Not by myself."
"That's what we need to talk about." I lean forward, elbows on my knees. "Sophie, you’re right about not being able to handle it all alone. And that’s okay, you don’t have to."
"I don't have a choice."
"You do." I cut her off before she can spiral. "I'm moving in. Temporarily. Until you get back on your feet."
She stares at me like I've spoken a foreign language. "What?"
"I'm moving into the apartment. Bringing Noah with me—I'm not leaving him with sitters for extended periods while I'm essentially living here anyway."
I've already thought this through, made the decision while washing dishes at dawn.
"Noah can take the guest room. I'll sleep on the couch. It's practical—you need full-time support right now, and I'm already here most days. This just makes it official."
Sophie's shaking her head before I finish. "No. Bellamy, no. That's too much. You have your own life, your own responsibilities. I can't ask you to…"
"You're not asking. I'm offering." My voice is firm, leaving no room for argument. "This isn't negotiable, Sophie."
"But Noah—your son shouldn't have to uproot his life because Adrian is a selfish…" She stops, voice breaking. "You have responsibilities to him. To your own family. Not to us."
"Noah will be fine. Better than fine—he'll have Amelia here, which he loves. He'll have a stable routine. And I'll be with him every day instead of leaving him with my mother while I worry about you."
"This isn't fair to you." Tears stream down her face again. "You didn't sign up for this. You should just—you should go home and let me figure this out because I can't keep taking and taking from you when I have nothing to give back—"
I move to sit beside her on the couch. Not touching, but close enough that she can feel my presence.
"I'm not doing this because I expect anything back. I'm doing this because you need help, and I can provide it. That's all the reason I need."
That's the lie I tell her. The truth I keep buried.
I'm doing this because I love her. Because watching her suffer while Adrian self-destructed became unbearable. Because every day I showed up and held her together while he fell apart, I fell deeper into feelings I had no right to have.
Because now Adrian is gone, and I can finally be what Sophie needs without boundaries or guilt or professional distance.
Sophie searches my face for something. "Why? Really, why would you do this?"
I could tell her the truth. Could admit that somewhere between the formula explosions and late-night conversations and the moment she fell asleep on my shoulder, I fell in love with her. That Amelia feels like mine even though she's not. That this apartment feels more like home than my own place.
But she's not ready to hear that. Might never be ready.
So I give her the practical answer instead. "Because you're my friend. Because Amelia deserves stability. Because I made Adrian a promise that I'd be here for you, and I keep my promises."
The last part isn't a lie. Adrian did extract that promise. He just doesn't know I was already planning to keep it regardless.
Sophie's resistance wavers. I can see the exhaustion in every line of her body, the terror barely held at bay. She's drowning and I'm offering a lifeline, even if accepting it comes with guilt she doesn't deserve to carry.
"Just temporarily," she whispers. "Until I figure out how to do this on my own."
I nod, even though we both know that's not how this will work. "Just temporarily."
The lie tastes bitter. Because I know the truth I won't say aloud.
This isn't temporary for me. Moving in isn't some professional courtesy or obligation to Adrian. It's not even just about helping Sophie survive the immediate crisis.
I'm in love with her. Have been for weeks, maybe months. And now that Adrian is gone, I can finally build the family we should have been from the start.
I tell myself it's just until she gets back on her feet. Just until she's stable enough to manage alone.
But I'm lying to myself as much as I'm lying to her.