Fractures beneath the surface part one

 The weekend had felt like a balm—sunlight pouring through windows, the gentle hush of waves, long walks together and whispered laughter in bed. They’d made love until their limbs trembled, talked until dawn bled into morning, and held each other like nothing else in the world mattered.

But reality, as it often does, found its way in.

It started with a message Andrea hadn't expected—an encrypted email forwarded to her secure inbox. The sender: Tio’s legal counsel. The subject line: Custody Motion Notice.

She didn’t tell Doc. Not immediately. Not that day. Not when they were sipping tea on the deck, Anthony and Caterina asleep upstairs and the baby nudging gently inside her womb. She tucked it away, unsure of what it meant, terrified of how it might unravel everything they’d built.

But Doc noticed. The shift in her. The way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. The way she held back in the dark, quieter, her body still responsive but emotionally distant.

“Andy,” he said, one night as they lay tangled together, breathless but not close. “Where are you tonight?”

Her eyes shimmered, but she looked away. “Nowhere.”

“You’re lying,” he said softly. “Don’t do that with me.”

And then it spilled out—the email, her fear that Tio might try to re-enter their lives, the guilt that she hadn’t told him right away. The conflict flared fast. Doc’s calm cracked.

“You should have told me. We’re supposed to be in this together.”

“I was protecting you! Protecting us. I didn’t want this weekend to be about him.”

“It’s not about him, Andrea—it’s about trust.”

She pulled away then, wrapping her arms around herself as if to keep her heart from breaking open. “I don’t know if I’m doing any of this right. Loving you. Building this family. I’m scared I’m going to mess it all up.”

Doc’s silence was sharp at first. Then: “You think I’m not scared too?”

She turned to look at him.

“I’ve loved you in ways I didn’t know I could love anyone. And when you ran—when you left—I swore I wouldn’t let you close enough to break me again. But I did. Because I want this. I want you. Anthony. Caterina. This baby. All of it.”

“But what if I’m broken beyond repair?” she whispered.

He reached for her, his hand resting gently over her belly. “Then we rebuild. Every day. Together.”

But the tension lingered. The next morning was quiet. Coffee was made but not shared. Touches were hesitant. And when they packed to return home, it felt less like the end of a romantic getaway and more like stepping into a storm they weren’t sure they were strong enough to survive.