Forever and ever 2. The adventure starts now.

Part 156.

Y/N's pov~

On Friday, June 10th, Tom moved out. Where? I had no idea. He wasn't talking to me, even less did he want to see me, but Harry relayed information to me every few days, and if he didn't, Ciara did. As far as I knew, he had found an apartment in the heart of London. Close enough to his son, far enough from his wife. My heart still hadn't come to terms with the fact that he had moved out, but Harry assured me it was only temporary and didn't mean divorce by any means. Tom would never want that, he said, and I believed his words more than I believed myself, but he was currently the only one I could trust.

Parker went to Tom's after kindergarten, saw the apartment where he now stayed for the first time, and I had my first appointment with the gynecologist today. Ciara accompanied me so I wouldn't have to go alone, and it was surreal to have the test confirmed. A human being was growing inside me, not recognizable as a human yet, but it was something.

I squeezed Ciara's hand at the ultrasound image, and the doctor asked if Ciara was my wife, once he saw the ring on my finger. We chuckled and explained that we were just best friends, and the doctor smiled as he realized it too.

In the afternoon then, I went to couples therapy. Tom was already seated on the couch when I walked in, his elbow resting on the armrest, his chin resting on his palm, looking barely interested, yet he made my heart race with every eye contact we made.

Today, he wore loose black jeans and a white tank top peeking out from under his navy blue linen shirt. A chain on his watch, a lock of hair falling in front of his eye.

"Apologies for the delay," three minutes, to be exact. But better to come across as overly polite than rude.

I positioned myself next to Tom, subtly edging closer to him if he didn't notice, and Mr. Manshetter began asking us how we were doing.

We both gave her a brief update, both of us being honest. My response was, "a bit tired and not fully awake yet." From the nightmare last week. And Tom's was, "better than yesterday." To which I furrowed my brows. Wondered what that meant, what happened yesterday, and why yesterday was worse, but there was no time to ask.

"Last week, you both mentioned that you'd be parting ways in terms of living arrangements. How does it feel, after all this time, to not share the same space?" Two weeks had slipped by since Tom's nightly presence vanished from our home, affording us ample time to delve into our emotions and engage in genuine dialogue.

"Perhaps you'd like to kick things off, Mr. Holland." The therapist's attention shifted to Tom, an unusual gesture considering his typical reticence, often opting to nod in agreement rather than voice his thoughts.

Tom ran a hand through his hair, visibly uncomfortable. He didn't like coming here, he didn't like seeing me, he didn't like talking to Mr.Manshatter, yet he did it once a week. Wondered why. Why he didn't just stop if he didn't want to anymore?

"We've practically lived separate lives for nearly six months now," he shrugged, his tone suggesting indifference.

"So, would you say you've grown accustomed to waking up without your wife beside you?" Mr. Manshetter inquired, prompting a nod from Tom.

"Yeah."

Acknowledging his response with a pensive nod, she continued, "Do you believe that played a role in your swift decision to move out?"

For the first time, Tom appeared genuinely reflective, taking a moment before eventually shaking his head.

"No, I don't think it was solely that."

"Then what do you believe influenced your decision?" she probed.

Tom glanced my way, adjusting his position with a subtle flex of his bicep.