I didn't say anything after that.
Not because I didn't have anything to say, but because there were too many things, all tangled together in a way I couldn't separate. Anger, hurt, fear—they all sat heavy in my chest, pressing down until even breathing felt like effort.
Harley didn't speak either.
For a moment, we just stood there, facing each other across a distance that felt much larger than the few steps between us. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, filled with everything we had already said and everything we hadn't.
I looked at him, really looked this time.
His expression was controlled, but I could see the tension in it now, the tightness in his jaw, the way his shoulders held just a little too still. He wasn't unaffected. He wasn't as calm as he wanted to appear.
But it didn't make anything better.
If anything, it made it worse.
Because this wasn't just about what had happened in Paris.
It wasn't just about the fact that I was pregnant.
It was about everything in between.
Everything that had been left unsaid.
Everything that had been decided for me.
"I need space," I said finally.
The words came out quiet, but they felt heavier than anything I had said before.
Harley's gaze sharpened slightly. "Sophie—"
"I mean it."
I cut him off before he could continue, my voice firmer now, steadier than I felt.
"I can't… think like this," I added, swallowing hard. "I can't process any of this with you standing here waiting for an answer I don't have."
He didn't respond immediately.
I could see it in his expression—he didn't like it.
He didn't like the idea of stepping back.
He didn't like the idea of not having control over the situation.
But this wasn't something he could control.
Not this time.
"I'm not asking for permission," I continued, my tone quieter but no less certain. "I'm telling you what I need."
The room fell silent again.
For a second, I thought he might argue.
Push.
Insist.
That was what he usually did.
But this time—
He didn't.
His gaze held mine for a long moment, something unreadable flickering beneath the surface.
Then, slowly, he exhaled.
"…How much space?"
The question surprised me.
Not because he asked it, but because of how he asked it.
Carefully.
Like he was trying not to make things worse.
I didn't have an answer.
I didn't know how long it would take for anything inside me to settle, or if it ever would.
"I don't know," I admitted.
My voice came out softer this time.
Honest.
"I just… need time."
Harley's jaw tightened slightly, but he nodded.
Once.
"Fine."
The word was quiet.
Controlled.
But it didn't carry the same sharpness it had before.
That should have made me feel better.
It didn't.
Because this wasn't a resolution.
It was distance.
And distance, right now, felt like both relief and loss at the same time.
I looked away first.
"I'm going to stay somewhere else for a few days," I said.
The decision formed as I spoke it, solidifying in a way that made it feel inevitable.
I couldn't stay here.
Not with everything pressing in from all sides.
Not with him so close.
Harley's head lifted slightly, his expression tightening again. "Where?"
"Amy's."
The answer came easily.
Of course it did.
Amy had always been my first instinct.
My safe place.
Harley didn't look like he liked that answer.
But he didn't argue.
"Does she know?" he asked.
"No."
"Then you're planning to tell her?"
I hesitated.
The truth was—
I didn't know.
I didn't know how to say it out loud to anyone.
I didn't know how to make it real in a way that couldn't be taken back.
"I'll figure it out," I said instead.
Harley studied me for a moment, like he wanted to push further, like he wanted to say something that would change my mind.
But he didn't.
"Alright," he said finally.
The word felt like a step back.
Like he was letting go, even if he didn't want to.
I nodded once, my chest tightening slightly at the shift between us.
Then I moved.
I walked past him without stopping, heading toward the closet to grab what I needed. My movements felt distant, like I was watching myself from somewhere else as I pulled a small suitcase out and set it on the bed.
I didn't pack much.
Just enough.
Clothes.
Toiletries.
The essentials.
Everything else felt irrelevant.
The silence behind me stayed.
Heavy.
Present.
Harley didn't leave.
I could feel him there, standing in the same place, watching without interrupting.
I didn't turn around.
I didn't think I could handle seeing his expression again.
Not now.
When I finished, I zipped the suitcase and lifted it from the bed, my grip tightening slightly around the handle.
"I'll call you," I said.
The words felt necessary.
Even if I didn't know when that would be.
Or what I would say when I did.
Harley didn't respond right away.
Then, quietly, "You better."
There was something in his voice.
Something low.
Something restrained.
It made my chest ache in a way I didn't want to examine.
I nodded, even though he couldn't see it.
Then I walked toward the door.
My hand paused on the handle for just a second.
Not because I was unsure.
But because leaving felt heavier than I expected.
I didn't turn back.
I couldn't.
If I did—
I wasn't sure I would still walk out.
So I opened the door and stepped into the hallway.
The house felt different already.
Quieter.
Emptier.
Like something had shifted the moment I made the decision to leave.
I walked down the stairs slowly, the sound of my suitcase rolling behind me echoing faintly in the silence.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
By the time I reached the front door, my chest felt tight again, the weight of everything pressing in all at once.
I didn't stop.
I opened the door and stepped outside.
The air felt cooler, sharper, grounding in a way the house no longer was.
For a moment, I just stood there.
Then I moved.
—
Amy didn't ask questions when she opened the door.
Not right away.
She took one look at me—really looked—and stepped aside without hesitation.
"Come in."
Her voice was soft.
Careful.
I nodded and walked past her, setting my suitcase down just inside the apartment.
The space felt smaller than the mansion.
Warmer.
Safer.
Amy closed the door behind me and turned.
"Sophie," she said quietly.
That was all it took.
My chest tightened, my throat closing as everything I had been holding in since the moment I found out rose up again, fast and overwhelming.
"I…" I started, then stopped.
The words didn't come.
Amy stepped closer immediately, her expression shifting to something more serious, more concerned.
"What happened?"
I shook my head, pressing my lips together as I tried to steady myself.
"I don't know how to say it."
"That's okay," she said gently. "Just start somewhere."
But I couldn't.
Because saying it out loud would make it real in a way I still wasn't ready for.
"I just need to stay here for a few days," I said instead.
Amy didn't hesitate.
"Of course you can."
No questions.
No pressure.
Just acceptance.
And for some reason—
That made everything hurt more.
"Thank you," I whispered.
She nodded, her gaze soft but searching. "We'll talk when you're ready."
I nodded once.
That was all I could manage.
—
That night, I lay on Amy's couch, staring at the ceiling in a room that wasn't mine.
The silence here felt different.
Not suffocating.
Just… quiet.
But the thoughts were still there.
The truth was still there.
Unchanged.
Unavoidable.
I turned onto my side slowly, my hand resting against my stomach again without thinking.
The gesture didn't feel strange anymore.
It felt real.
And that was the hardest part.
Because no matter how far I ran from the mansion—
From Harley—
From everything that had happened—
I couldn't run from this.
From what was already a part of me.
My eyes closed slowly, exhaustion finally pulling at me in a way that felt heavier than anything else.
For the first time since everything changed, sleep came.
Not peaceful.
Not easy.
But enough.
Because tomorrow—
I would have to face it again.