Sophie’s POV
The shock of seeing Adrian in the doorway lasts approximately three seconds.
Then fury ignites.
"Where the hell were you?" The words explode out of me before he's fully inside. I'm on my feet, notebook falling to the floor, pen rolling away. "Where the hell have you been for an entire week?"
Adrian closes the door behind him, sets down his duffel bag. His movements are calm, deliberate. When he looks at me, there's no panic in his expression. No scrambling for excuses.
"I needed time away," he says quietly. "To think. To figure out if I could be what you and Amelia need."
The measured response makes my fury burn hotter. "You needed to think? You took a week to think while I was here raising our daughter alone?"
"I know." His voice remains steady. "I know what I did was hard on you…"
"Hard on me?" I laugh, sharp and bitter. "Hard on me? Adrian, you abandoned us. You walked out on your three-month-old daughter. Left a note like this was some casual breakup instead of destroying your family."
"I didn't abandon you." He takes a step closer, calm certainty in his voice. "You weren’t alone, Bellamy stayed with you. I made sure you'd have support."
Something inside me snaps. I shove him. Hard. Both hands against his chest, putting all my weight behind it.
He stumbles back a step but doesn't resist. Doesn't raise his hands to defend himself. Just stands there and takes it.
"How dare you!" I shove him again. "How dare you justify walking out by pointing at another man stepping up to do your job!"
Another shove. He absorbs it without moving this time, just watching me with that infuriatingly calm expression.
"You abandoned us!" Shove. "You left your daughter!" Shove. "You walked away and you're standing here acting like that's okay because Bellamy was here to pick up the pieces!"
"Sophie—"
"Don't!" I hit his chest with both fists now, not really trying to hurt him but needing some physical outlet for the rage consuming me. "Don't you dare say his name like his presence excuses your absence. Like another man parenting your child makes you less of a coward!"
Adrian catches my wrists gently when I raise my hands again. Not restraining, just holding. His voice stays calm. "I'm not making excuses. I'm telling you what I did and why I did it."
I wrench my hands free, step back. "And what you did was abandon us! Do you have any idea what I went through? Waking up to that note? Screaming your name through this entire apartment? Realizing you'd actually left?"
"I know."
"You don't know!" Tears stream down my face. "You don't know what it's like to collapse on the hallway floor because you can't breathe. To hear your daughter screaming and not be able to move because you're falling apart. To spend a week wondering if you'd ever come back or if I'd have to raise her completely alone."
Adrian's expression softens slightly but he doesn't break. "You're right. I don't know what that's like. But I know what it's like to feel so inadequate that staying feels more damaging than leaving."
"That's not—you can't just—" I'm struggling to form coherent sentences through the fury and tears. "The humiliation of admitting to your mother that you left. To Dad and Emma. To everyone who already thought we were a disaster waiting to happen. They were right, weren't they? We were doomed from the start."
"No." His voice is firm. "We weren't."
"Then why did you leave?" The question comes out broken. "If we weren't doomed, why did you walk away?"
"Because I needed to know if I could come back different." He takes a careful step forward. "If I could be the father Amelia deserves instead of the one who makes her scream. The partner you need instead of the one who drains you dry."
I shake my head violently. "And what? A week away fixed that? You figured it all out?"
"No." His honesty catches me off guard. "But I figured out that running doesn't fix anything. That the only way forward is to stay and fight for us. For our family."
"There is no us!" The words tear from my throat. "You destroyed us when you left! You chose yourself over Amelia and that's—that's unforgivable!"
"Then don't forgive me." His voice stays steady, certain. "Be angry. Hate me for leaving. But let me prove I can do better."
"How?" I'm crying harder now. "How do you prove that after walking out on your three-month-old daughter? After leaving me alone and terrified?"
"You weren't alone." He says it gently but the words still land like blows. "Bellamy made sure you weren't alone."
I shove him again, both hands against his chest. "Stop saying that! Stop acting like his presence makes what you did okay!"
He doesn't stumble this time. Just stands solid, absorbing my fury.
"He stepped up because you walked away!" Another shove. "He parented your daughter because you couldn't! And you're standing here calm and collected like that's acceptable!"
"I'm not saying it's acceptable." His calm is maddening. "I'm saying I'm grateful he was here when I wasn't."
"Grateful?" The word comes out strangled. "You're grateful another man raised your child for a week?"
"Yes." Simple. Direct. Infuriating.
I want to hit him. Want to scream until my voice gives out. Want to make him feel a fraction of the pain he caused.
But he just stands there. Taking everything I throw at him. Not defending, not deflecting. Just absorbing.
"Amelia smiled for the first time three days ago," I finally say, voice breaking. "Her first real smile. And you weren't there to see it because you were too busy running away."
Something flickers across his face. Pain, maybe. Regret. But he doesn't crumble.
"I know," he says quietly. "And I'll regret missing that for the rest of my life. But I can't change it. I can only be here for everything that comes next."
"Why should I believe you'll stay?" The question comes out small, defeated. "You left once. What's stopping you from leaving again the next time things get hard?"
Adrian looks at me for a long moment. Then, calmly and deliberately, he drops to one knee.
My words die in my throat.
He reaches into his jacket pocket. Pulls out a small velvet box. Opens it with steady hands.
A ring. Simple platinum band, single diamond. Elegant. Clearly chosen with thought and care.
My breath catches. Brain struggling to process the shift from screaming match to—this.
"I'm not running anymore," he says, voice steady and certain. "I'm choosing us. Choosing to fight for our family instead of against myself."
I stare at the ring. At this man on his knees after everything I just said to him. After pushing him, screaming at him, telling him we're better off without him.
"Sophie." His voice is calm, sure, no trace of the desperate man who walked out a week ago. "Will you be my wife? Officially?"