XAVIER’S POV

For the first time in months, I had felt the tiniest spark of hope. Melissa had accepted the baby's dresses, the blankets, the bottles—everything I bought for our baby.

She hadn’t smiled, she hadn’t said much, but she took them. That was enough for me. It meant a door wasn’t fully closed. It meant if I kept trying, maybe she’d let me in again. I carried that hope with me all the way to the hotel. I paid the cab driver, clutching the bouquet receipt still folded ...