It was meant to be

15 - Shattered Trust

Tessa

It's been a few weeks since Diane left, and I can feel the tension in the air more than ever. Hardin's been distant. He's been trying to be present for Auden, but something feels off. He's been quieter than usual, more stressed, and disappearing into his work even more.

Auden's third birthday is just around the corner, and we've been planning a little celebration. But despite all the excitement, I can't shake the feeling that something's wrong with Hardin. I've seen him looking more tired, more drawn, and the way he avoids talking about anything deeper than what Auden needs for the day makes me worry.

I haven't seen much of Vanessa, though I hear from Hardin that she's been handling things well at work. I try not to let my imagination run wild, but something about her makes me uneasy. I know she's been helpful in keeping things organized, but I've caught glimpses of her overly friendly smiles and the way she lingers a little too long in Hardin's personal space. I brush it off as paranoia. Hardin wouldn't let anything happen... right?

It's late afternoon when I decide to stop by his office. Auden's with his grandma today, and I figured Hardin might need a little break, maybe some company to ease his mind before the birthday chaos kicks in. Plus, I miss him—miss the closeness we were beginning to build before everything became so heavy.

When I arrive at the office building, I feel a strange pit forming in my stomach. I push it aside, trying to focus on my reason for being here: to check in on Hardin and see if he wants to grab dinner or just talk. But as I approach his office door, I hear voices from inside—one of them distinctly Vanessa's. I freeze just outside the door.

"Hardin, you're too stressed out." Vanessa's voice is soft but with a strange undertone. "You need to relax more. Let me help you unwind."

I can't hear Hardin's reply, but I don't need to. My heart is already hammering in my chest. Something about the way she said it—her tone—sets off alarms in my head.

Against my better judgment, I push the door open slightly. The sight that greets me makes my blood run cold.

Hardin is sitting behind his desk, his head hung low, a bottle of whiskey half-empty in front of him. Vanessa is leaning over him, her hand on his shoulder, her face inches from his. Her fingers are sliding down his arm, and I watch in shock as she leans in closer, her lips brushing against his neck.

I feel sick. My heart is pounding in my ears, my vision blurring with a mix of anger and hurt. I can't even move for a moment, rooted to the spot as the scene in front of me plays out.

"Vanessa... stop," Hardin says, his voice slurred. He's clearly drunk, his words coming out thick and heavy.

But she doesn't stop. She keeps whispering in his ear, her hand moving up to his hair. And Hardin, in his drunken state, doesn't push her away.

I can't watch this anymore. My hand shakes as I push the door open wider, and the sound catches their attention. Vanessa pulls back quickly, her eyes widening in surprise when she sees me standing there.

"Tessa—" Hardin's voice is laced with guilt as he tries to stand up, but he stumbles, unsteady on his feet. His eyes, bloodshot and tired, lock with mine, and I can see the realization of what's just happened sinking in.

Vanessa straightens up, a look of fake innocence crossing her face. "I was just... helping him," she says, her tone all too sweet.

I don't respond to her. My eyes are fixed on Hardin, who's struggling to find his balance, looking at me like he's just been caught in the worst possible moment.

"Tessa, it's not what it looks like..." Hardin mumbles, taking a step toward me.

But I can't stay there any longer. My heart feels like it's being torn in two, and I don't trust myself to stay calm if I hear another word from either of them.

"I think you've had enough help for one day," I say, my voice colder than I intended, before turning on my heel and walking out of the office. My hands shake as I head for the exit, tears burning in the corners of my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall until I'm far away from there.

Behind me, I hear Hardin call my name again, but I don't stop. I can't stop. Everything feels shattered. The man I've been growing so close to, the father of the little boy I adore, just let someone else step into his space—a space I thought I was starting to belong in.

I rush out of the building, the cool air hitting my face as I step outside, trying to pull myself together. I can't go back to Auden like this. I need time to process, to breathe, but right now all I can think about is how everything has just fallen apart.

Hardin

I feel like I'm drowning. Every day is a new wave of stress and pressure—Auden's birthday is coming up, the court case is looming, and no matter what I do, it feels like I'm failing. I haven't been sleeping well, and lately, the walls of my office seem to be closing in on me. It's like no matter how hard I try to stay on top of things, I'm just... collapsing.

And Tessa. God, I've been pulling away from her, and I don't even know why. She's been nothing but good to me and Auden, and yet the weight of everything going on has made it hard to be present for her. It's like I'm afraid of needing her too much. Afraid of her seeing me like this—weak, worn down, slipping. I've been drinking a little more, too. Trying to calm the noise in my head. I know it's not the answer, but sometimes it's the only thing that quiets it.

Today, Vanessa noticed. She's been doing a good job with the transition since Diane left. She's sharp, organized, but there's something else about her that makes me uncomfortable. She's a little too attentive—always hovering, always offering to stay late or help in ways that feel more personal than professional.

I don't want to think about it, so I reach for the whiskey on the corner of my desk and take another sip. It burns its way down, but it's dulling the sharp edges in my mind. I lean back in my chair, closing my eyes for just a second, trying to block out the chaos of my life.

Vanessa walks in just then, her voice soft, almost coaxing. "Hardin, you're too stressed out." Vanessa's voice is soft but with a strange undertone. "You need to relax more. Let me help you unwind."

I barely respond, my mind sluggish. She moves closer, her perfume invading my senses. Her hand slides onto my shoulder, and I tense up immediately. My instincts tell me to push her away, to tell her to stop. But I'm too tired, too drunk, too lost in my own head to do anything.

"Vanessa... don't," I mumble, my words slurred.

But she ignores me. She leans down, her lips brushing against my neck, and I flinch, trying to move away but too disoriented to stop her. I don't want this. I don't want her. But it's like my body isn't responding the way it should.

Just then, the door creaks open. I look up, blinking against the haze, and see Tessa standing there.

My heart drops. The sight of her standing there, seeing what's happening—it's like a punch to the gut. Her eyes are wide with shock, her face pale. And the hurt. The hurt in her eyes is worse than anything.

"Tessa—" I try to stand, but I stumble, my legs unsteady beneath me. My head is spinning, and I can't get the words out fast enough. "It's not... I didn't..."

But she's already backing away, her face hardening. She doesn't even look at Vanessa. Her gaze is fixed on me, and it's full of disbelief, disappointment... betrayal.

I take a step toward her, desperate to explain, to tell her this isn't what it looks like. But she's gone before I can get the words out, the door closing behind her with a sharp click that echoes through the room like a final judgment.

Vanessa steps back, a look of guilt and confusion crossing her face. "I was just trying to help, Hardin—"

I cut her off, rage boiling inside me as I finally find my strength. "Get out," I snap, my voice hoarse and broken.

She opens her mouth to say something, but I can't listen to her. I just need her gone. I need to be alone.

As the door closes behind her, the silence in the room is deafening. I'm left standing there, my heart pounding in my chest, the sting of alcohol still bitter on my tongue, and the realization of what I've just done crashing over me like a tidal wave.

I've messed up. Badly. And I don't know how to fix it.