After packing the car, Henry walks toward the house. The moment he steps closer, he hears it... an unmistakable cry.
It is rough and weak, a sound that seems as if it has been drawn out for hours. It is not just any cry; it is one that makes his chest tighten, like the sound itself carries exhaustion and pain.
He enters the house, and the sight hits him immediately.
Victoria is asleep on the sofa, still in the same clothes she had worn in the morning.
On the floor, Skye lies with his eyes red and swollen from crying, small fists curled at his sides, every breath shaky and uneven.
Henry moves toward the boy, intending to pick him up. But Skye resists, stiffening, pulling back, refusing the comfort Henry is trying to give.
Anger ignites in Henry as he raises his eyes toward Victoria.. He storms toward her, his footsteps echoing sharply against the floor. "Are you kidding me?!" he snaps, roughly pulling her up from the sofa. "How could you sleep so peacefully and leave the baby crying all day?"
Victoria blinks, startled, sitting up as she meets his furious gaze. "Look who's finally home," she says casually, "Now you care that he's been crying? Don't give me that look, Henry, like you actually give a damn. But don't worry. I just gave him some sleeping pills. He'll be off in a few minutes."
She rises to stand, but Henry grabs her wrist, forcing her back down onto the couch. "When I said you can go out with someone, I didn't mean you carry our son to a nightclub! What is wrong with you? Have you completely lost your mind?!" His voice shakes with anger, each word vibrating with tension.
"Do you actually care or..." Victoria opens her mouth to respond, but he cuts her off sharply.
"It doesn't matter! That doesn't give you the right to do something so reckless! What if he had gotten lost? If it weren't for that sympathetic stranger, where do you think our son would be right now?!" His breathing quickens, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Skye cries louder this time, his small body trembling.
"If you can't stay here properly, then leave! Because apparently, your presence here has no meaning. One more reckless act, and I won't hesitate to bring you the divorce papers for..."
"You can't do that to me!" Victoria interrupts, voice sharp, defensive. "Whose fault is it that things aren't working out around here? Whose is it?"
Henry's voice hardens. "Don't speak as if you don't know why we got married in the first place. Didn't I spell it out for you? And you accepted! You told me you were ready to have a child, ready to take care of him as long as you had this kind of a house, as long as you had everything you wanted! So what are you doing right now?!" His hands clench into fists. "I want him to stop crying. Whatever you did to him, find a way to soothe him. Give him whatever he wants. You said you didn't want a maid here, so deal with it. I never want to hear him cry like this again."
Victoria's eyes widen. "I didn't do anything to him! Have I become that heartless in your eyes?! You think I did something to my own son?!"
Victoria points toward Skye. "I think he wants that stranger who was in the house with him. He hasn't stopped crying since he left."
Henry turns toward Skye, confusion and disbelief written across his face. "What? How is that possible? He doesn't even know him. He never even talks to strangers."
"You try then… and see if he will listen to you," Victoria says, leaning back, almost smug.
Henry kneels down next to Skye. The boy has stopped crying but won't move from the floor. Henry reaches toward him, voice low and gentle. "Baby…" But Skye doesn't look at him.
He stiffens, ignoring Henry's touch. When Henry tries to pick him up, Skye bursts into tears again, small body shaking uncontrollably.
Henry straightens, frustration and worry mixing in his chest. "Has he eaten anything?" he asks, glancing toward Victoria.
"No," she replies simply.
Henry's eyes sweep across the room. On the table, empty wrappers from ordered food are scattered around. He stares at them in disbelief. "You… you ordered and ate everything?" he murmurs, more to himself than to her, the words sharp and flat, tinged with incredulity.
He steps to the side and pulls out his phone, dialing, and speaking in a low voice, "You think there's a way I can find a boy… around twenty years old, willing to work as a babysitter?"
"Yes, sir," the voice on the other end replies, careful and hesitant. It's his secretary. "But I'm not sure it will be that fast. It might take some time."
Henry's patience is gone. "I called you right now that means I want someone right now. Just send him over immediately. We'll talk about everything later. I'm waiting." He ends the call, eyes still flicking toward Skye.