ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴏᴍᴀɴ ʙᴏᴏᴋ ᴛᴡᴏ

Mysterious woman

SOFIA

The room is quiet, finally. I look down at Saint, my week-old son, and he's finally asleep. His little chest rises and falls rhythmically, his tiny hands curled into fists by his face. I breathe out a sigh of relief. It's been an hour of endless cries, and I admit that it was beginning to fray my nerves. But now, he's asleep.

I leave the nursery cautiously, making sure not to make a sound. The tile floor beneath my feet feels cool and comforting. I make my way to the bathroom, my hand instinctively going to my midsection. It's only been a little more than a week  since the C-section. My doctor said the healing is going well, but it doesn't feel that way. It's still tender, still fresh, the scar a stark reminder of the pain that came with it.

I undress myself and free my hair from the messy bun it's in.

As I step into the shower, I let the warm water wash over me, soothing the soreness of my body. My hands glide over my stomach, a strange hollow sensation now that Saint isn't there.

As the water ran down my skin, I couldn't help but imagine Xavier's touch. My hands moved over my body, mimicking the caresses I once knew so well. I could almost feel his fingers tracing delicate patterns along my body.

The guilt washed over me as quickly as the water rinsed away the soap. I shouldn't be thinking about him this way. We're not together anymore. I had to remind myself of that painful truth.

I tightened my grip on the shower handle, trying to ground myself in the present moment. The water continued to pour down, erasing the images of Xavier's touch from my mind.

Wrapping a towel around me, I step out of the bathroom, the warmth of the room, a stark contrast to the cooler air of the hallway. The sound of a phone ringing catches my attention. It's not mine, I realize, as I follow the sound to the living room. It's Xavier's.

I pick it up. Xavier rarely leaves his phone behind. He's always on it, always connected. I look at the screen, but there's no name, just a number I don't recognize. The ringing continues, piercing the silence of the house.

"Hello?" I answer, my voice low.

"Is Xavier there?" a woman's voice asks from the other end. She sounds young, but her voice carries an edge of impatience.

"I'm sorry, he's not here right now. May I ask who's speaking?" I reply, trying to keep my voice steady.

"No, that's okay, I'll call back later," she says, and then the line goes dead.

I stare at the phone, a knot of unease forming in my stomach. Xavier is my ex. He's also Saint's father. But we agreed on a clean break, for our sake and for Saint's. But this call, this woman, it puts a question in my mind.

Is he seeing someone else?

I put the phone down, my gaze drifting to the quiet room where Saint sleeps. The question lingers, a nagging feeling tugging at me.

As I sit down on the couch, I look down at my scar, lost in my thoughts, Xavier walks into the room. His eyes meet mine, and he notices the unease lingering in my expression.

"Hey, everything okay?" he asks, his voice filled with concern.

I sit up, trying to compose myself. "Someone called for you. A woman. She didn't leave a name," I say, handing him the phone. "I didn't ask who it was."

Xavier takes the phone, confusion etched on his face. He scrolls through the call log, his brow furrowing deeper with each passing second. "I have no idea who this is. The number doesn't ring a bell, and I haven't been in touch with anyone new," he says, his voice tinged with genuine surprise.

I look away. It's none of my business who he sees or talks to now that we're broken up. But a part of me can't help but wonder if there's someone else in his life. I take a deep breath and ask the question that's been gnawing at me.

"Xavier, are you seeing someone else?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

He looks at me, his eyes filled with sincerity. He steps closer, his hand gently cupping my cheek. "Sofia, no. I promise you, there's no one else," he says, his voice tender and reassuring.

A mix of relief and sadness washes over me. Relief because I want to believe him, to trust that what we shared still means something to him. Sadness because the doubts and insecurities still linger in the back of my mind.

I lean into his touch, craving the comfort and familiarity of his presence. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. It's just that phone call...it made me wonder," I say, my voice laced with vulnerability.

Xavier leans in closer, his lips brushing against mine in a gentle kiss. "You don't need to apologize, Sofia. I understand why you asked. We didn't exactly get together on normal conditions."

My heart was pounding against my chest as I found myself lost in Xavier's eyes. His hands were firm on my waist, his thumb gently tracing circles over the fabric of my towel. I could still taste the lingering mint on his lips. But despite the closeness, my mind was elsewhere.

The thought of Xavier being with someone else was like a blade slicing through my heart.

He slowly moved from standing before me to kneeling in front of me. His eyes were still locked onto mine. I watched his lips curve into a gentle smile as he leaned forward to kiss my belly.

The light touch on my fresh c-section incision sent a slight shiver down my spine, but it was quickly replaced with warmth as he whispered softly, "I love you, Sofia. Only you. And our baby."

"Xavier..." I whispered, my voice shaky, my heart racing. I let my hands rest on his shoulders, my thumb tracing the line of his collarbone. "Promise me... promise me there's no one else."

His eyes met mine, and he smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile. "I promise, Sofia. There's no one else but you."

I don't know what to think. I love and trust Xavier, but with everything going on, I don't know what to think.

Who was that woman?