Jeff’s POV

I sat in my study long after Emma had gone to bed, staring at the dim glow of my desk lamp, my thoughts a tangled mess.

Tonight had been a wake-up call.

I had spent the past months trying to repair the damage I had done to my marriage, trying to prove to Emma that I had changed, that I was ready to be the husband and father I should have been from the start, but no matter how hard I tried, I felt like I was losing her.

And now, Sam was back.

I clenched my fists, the name alone igniting a slow burn of anger deep in my gut.

I had spent years avoiding the reality of my mistakes, but I couldn’t avoid them anymore, Sam had been there when I had pushed Emma away.

He had been there when she had needed someone. He had been there when I had been too caught up in my pride and resentment to be the man she deserved.

And now, because of my failures, I was at risk of losing everything.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my desk, exhaling slowly. If I wanted to fix this, if I wanted to keep my family together, I had to act now.

But where did I even begin?

I rubbed a hand down my face, frustration clawing at me. Emma was slipping through my fingers, and it was my own damn fault.

I thought back to the night we got married, the cold, impersonal ceremony. The way she had looked at me with hopeful eyes, and the way I had ignored that hope, shutting her out before she even had the chance to try.

At the time, I had been furious.

An arranged marriage, in this day and age.

It had felt like a prison sentence, a forced bond I had no control over. I had wanted to rebel, to lash out at the people who had made this decision for me.

But instead, I had taken my anger out on her. I took it all on Emma, who had been just as trapped as I was.

Emma, who had been just as powerless in the situation as I had been.

She hadn’t deserved my resentment, my cold indifference, my careless neglect, she had deserved kindness, she had deserved love.

And if I had given her even a fraction of what she had deserved back then, Sam wouldn’t have had the chance to steal her heart.

If I had been the man I was supposed to be, I would have been the father of her children, not Sam.

I sucked in a sharp breath, pressing my fingers against my temple. The regret was suffocating, but regret wouldn’t fix anything now.

I needed a plan.

I needed to remind Emma of what we had, of what we could still have.

I pushed back from my desk, standing abruptly. I wasn’t going to sit here drowning in self-pity. I was going to fight for my wife, for my family.

And I was going to start tomorrow.

The next morning, I woke up earlier than usual, determined to set things in motion.

Emma was already in the kitchen, her back turned to me as she made breakfast. Jason and Anna sat at the table, still groggy from sleep, nibbling on their toast.

I took a moment to just watch them.

My family.

The one I had nearly lost.

Emma glanced over her shoulder when she heard me enter, her expression neutral, guarded, “Morning,” she murmured.

“Morning.” I replied, walking over to press a soft kiss to Anna’s forehead.

She beamed up at me sleepily, “Daddy, can I have more syrup?”

“Of course, sweetheart.” I poured a little extra onto her pancakes before taking a seat beside Jason, who was focused on his plate.

Emma moved around the kitchen effortlessly, but I noticed the tension in her shoulders. Last night’s conversation was still fresh in her mind.

I cleared my throat, “I was thinking, we should take the kids somewhere special this weekend.”

Emma paused, glancing at me over her shoulder, “Where?”

“A picnic at the lake,” I suggested, “Just the four of us. We haven’t done something like that in a long time.”

Jason’s head perked up, “Will there be fishing?”

“If you want there to be.”

Anna clapped her hands, “Can we bring snacks? Lots and lots of snacks?”

I chuckled, “Absolutely.”

Emma turned fully now, watching me carefully, “Jeff…” she started, then hesitated, “Why all of a sudden?”

I met her gaze, “Because we need it.”

Her lips parted slightly as if she wanted to argue, but then she exhaled and nodded, “Alright. The kids would love that.”

And just like that, the first step of my plan was in place.

The second step was to meet up with Sam and talk to him in an attempt to smoothen things for all of us. So I invited him to lunch and he agreed. 

So I was currently sat in my car outside the restaurant I had told him to meet me at, I was gripping the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles turned white. My heart pounded in my chest, and my jaw was clenched so hard it ached.

This wasn’t going to be easy, but it had to be done.

If I wanted to rebuild my marriage, I had to face Sam head-on. I had to make him understand that Emma was mine, that I wasn’t going to step aside and let him interfere any longer.

As I exhaled slowly, trying to steady my nerves, I glanced at my reflection in the rearview mirror, my face was set in a grim, determined expression.

No more hesitation, no more avoiding reality. I had spent too much time pretending that my past mistakes wouldn’t catch up to me. They had, and now I had to deal with them.

Pushing the car door open, I stepped out, adjusting the sleeves of my button-down shirt.

The restaurant was a quiet, upscale place, chosen deliberately to prevent a scene, I walked inside, my footsteps measured and controlled. My gaze swept across the room until I spotted him.

Sam was already seated in a booth near the window, one arm draped over the back of the seat, a casual yet calculating look on his face.

He wasn’t surprised to see me, if anything, he looked like he had been expecting this confrontation. His confidence irritated me, but I pushed down the anger bubbling inside me and walked over to the table.

“Jeff.” He greeted, nodding slightly, his tone was neutral, but there was a challenge in his eyes.

“Sam.” I sat down across from him, my movements deliberate, my expression unreadable.

The waitress arrived, breaking the tense silence between us. Sam ordered black coffee, while I simply asked for water. She hesitated for a moment, sensing the tension, before quickly walking away.

Sam leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, “So,” He started, voice casual but edged with curiosity, “What’s this about? Can’t say I expected a lunch invitation from you.”

I studied him for a moment, trying to decide the best way to say what I needed to say but there was no sugarcoating this. No need for pleasantries.

“I’ll get straight to the point. I want to be with Emma and you need to step back.”

Sam’s lips quirked up slightly, his expression unreadable, he tilted his head, as if considering my words.

Then, he let out a quiet chuckle, “Step back?” He echoed, amusement clear in his tone, “And why would I do that?”

“Because Emma is my wife,” I said firmly, my voice unwavering, “I know I’ve made mistakes, but I’m trying to fix them. I love her, and I want my marriage to work.”

Sam exhaled through his nose, tapping his fingers lightly against the table, “That’s touching really but here’s the problem Jeff,” His expression hardened. “You guys are no longer married, so she's not your wife anymore and I’m the father of her children.”

I stiffened, my jaw tightening. I had known this was coming, but hearing him say it out loud still struck a nerve.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he continued, his voice low and measured, “And I’ve come to a decision.” He leaned in slightly, locking eyes with me, “I’m going to get custody of my kids. I don’t want them living under another man’s roof.”

His words sent a sharp jolt of anger through me, but I forced myself to stay calm. I leaned back slightly, my hands tightening into fists under the table. “You’re joking.” My voice was controlled, but there was an undeniable edge to it.

Sam shook his head, his expression deadly serious, “Not at all. I want them with me, I want them raised by their real father.”

I scoffed, shaking my head, “They have a home, a stable home.”

“With a man who treated their mother like she was nothing?” Sam countered, his voice laced with bitterness.

“I was there when you weren’t Jeff. I was the one she turned to when you pushed her away and now you think you can just waltz back in and pretend none of it happened?” He laughed humorlessly, “It doesn’t work like that.”

I could feel my composure slipping, but I refused to let him get to me, “You don’t get to decide that. Sam. Emma is still mine, she still belongs to me, just like she has always been.”

“For how long though?” His voice was deceptively calm, but there was something sharp beneath the surface, “How long before she realizes she deserves better?”

His words cut deeper than I wanted to admit.

“I’m not letting you take my family away from me.” I said, my voice low and dangerous.

Sam’s smirk returned, slow and taunting, “Oh, I will and you know what else?” He paused, watching me carefully, as if waiting for the perfect moment to strike, “Once I get custody, I’ll make sure you never see the twins again.”

A surge of pure fury shot through me, hot and uncontrollable. The air in the restaurant felt heavy, suffocating. My pulse thundered in my ears.

“You wouldn’t dare.” I growled, standing up so quickly that my chair scraped against the floor.

Sam remained seated, his posture relaxed, but his eyes gleamed with satisfaction, “Try me.”

I don’t remember thinking, I don’t remember making a conscious decision.

All I knew was the burning rage in my chest, the overwhelming need to wipe that smug look off his face.

And then… my fist collided with his jaw, the impact sending his head snapping to the side.

The restaurant fell into stunned silence. Conversations stopped. The only sound was Sam’s chair scraping against the floor as he stumbled back, touching his bleeding lip.

For a moment, he said nothing. Then, slowly, he straightened, wiping the blood away with the back of his hand.

“Well,” he muttered, flexing his jaw, “That was predictable.”

Then, “Jeff?!”

Emma’s voice.

The moment I heard it, my stomach dropped.

I turned sharply to find her standing near the entrance, wide-eyed and horrified. Her gaze darted between me and Sam, her face pale with shock.

The tension in the air thickened, pressing down on me like a weight I couldn’t escape. My chest heaved, my knuckles still ached from the punch, but none of it mattered.

Because the look in Emma’s eyes told me everything.

She wasn’t just shocked.

She was disappointed.

The silence stretched painfully as she took a step closer, “What the hell is going on?” Her voice was low, controlled, but I could hear the tremble in it.

Sam, ever the opportunist, sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to his bruised jaw, “Jeff here invited me to lunch to tell me to step aside,” he said, his voice laced with mock sympathy, “But when I told him I was getting custody of my kids, he didn’t take it very well.”

Emma’s eyes snapped to mine, searching for an explanation.

I swallowed hard, my breathing uneven, “Emma, I…. ”

But she held up a hand, stopping me.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

The cold finality in her voice hit me harder than any punch ever could.

She turned to Sam, her expression unreadable, “Are you okay?”

Sam wiped his lip again, nodding, “I’ll survive.” He shot me a sideways glance, as if to say, but will you?

Emma exhaled, rubbing her temples before looking at me again, “I don’t know what you were trying to do Jeff, but this? This isn’t helping anything.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

Because deep down, I knew she was right.

And for the first time since I decided to fight for my family, I realized might have already lost.