Am I really your son

Part 26: Cold hearts and our families complete.

Leah POV

The salty air whipped at my face, the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore a soothing counterpoint to the simmering rage inside me. I'd stormed out of the hotel room, the door slamming shut behind me with a finality that echoed the way Alessia had abruptly cut short our night out. Grayson, our one-month-old son, had been overtired, overwhelmed, and fussy, and Alessia, ever the responsible mother, had decided we needed to head back. I understood, in theory. But the reality was that I was exhausted too, craving some semblance of normalcy, of the life we used to have, a life that felt like a distant, faded memory now. We'd been planning this trip for months, a much-needed getaway to escape the newborn bubble that had consumed our lives. Now, here I was, pacing the beach, the sand crunching beneath my bare feet, feeling like a prisoner in my own relationship.

Alessia's voice, a mere whisper compared to the roar of the ocean, drifted in from the balcony, cutting through my thoughts. 'Beth and Viv are here,' she said, her tone tinged with frustration. 'Grayson is a mess. He won't stop crying.' Of course he was crying. She'd thrown me out of the room and left him with her and the baby monitor for the last hour. He probably felt abandoned by both of us. I knew Beth and Viv would be helpful, but I couldn't help but feel a twinge of resentment. They'd come to help, not to enjoy the trip with us. It felt like a constant reminder that our lives were now defined by Grayson, not by us.

One and a half hours had passed before I finally returned to the room. Alessia was sitting on the bed, surrounded by luggage, her shoulders slumped with exhaustion. The air hung heavy with unspoken tension, and I knew, with a sinking feeling, that this trip was already becoming a battleground.

'Why did you have to leave?' I asked, my voice sharp, accusatory. 'It was only an hour! We were having a good time.'

'He was crying,' she said, her voice flat, 'And he wouldn't stop. I was worried he was getting sick.'

'He's a baby, Alessia,' I retorted, my frustration spiraling out of control. 'He cries. That's what babies do. It's not like you have a choice!'

'It's not about what I want, Leah,' she said, her voice starting to rise too. 'It's about what's best for Grayson.'

The argument escalated, our words echoing in the small space, each sentence a fresh wound inflicted on the fragile truce we'd built in the months since Grayson's arrival. Our frustration, our exhaustion, our pent-up need for normalcy – it all bubbled to the surface, a toxic cocktail that poisoned the air. The fight culminated in a harsh, final word, the kind that tears at the seams of a relationship already stretched thin.

And then, the inevitable happened. Grayson, roused by the raised voices, began to cry. His wails, shrill and piercing, filled the room, a painful reminder of the fragile balance we were struggling to maintain. Beth and Viv, alerted by the sound, rushed in, taking Grayson from a distraught Alessia.

'We'll take him to Jordan and Lauryn,' Viv said soothingly, her voice a calming presence in the storm. 'It's getting late, and you need to get some rest.'

I watched as they disappeared out the door, Beth and Viv gently rocking Grayson in his pram, desperately trying to quiet his cries. They headed down to the pool area, where Jordan and Lauryn, our close friends, were sitting by the pool. Esme, Lucy and Keira's two-year-old daughter, was sleeping peacefully on a sun lounger beside them.

The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. I knew I had to do something, anything, to break the cycle of anger and resentment. I took a deep breath and turned to Alessia, my face softening. 'Look, I'm sorry,' I said, my voice a whisper. 'I was being a bitch. I'm just tired, and I'm scared. This is all so..." My voice trailed off, the words failing to capture the overwhelming sense of displacement and unease that had been consuming me.