Chapter 7 - New Foundations
Three weeks later, Lucy sat on the balcony of her new apartment.
It was a small, sunlit space on the north side of the city, far away from the firehouse and the memories of the old townhome. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of autumn and Lake Michigan.
Her bump was larger now, a round, solid curve beneath her green sweater.
She placed her hand on her belly. A second later, a distinct, firm thump answered her.
“Good girl,” Lucy whispered, her lips curving into the first real smile she had worn in a month. “We’re okay. We’re going to be just fine.”
The transition hadn't been easy. The divorce proceedings had begun immediately, her lawyer using the rescue logs and the public scandal to secure a swift, uncontested separation. Alex hadn't fought her. He had signed every document, agreed to every term, surrendered the house and his savings without a single protest.
The doorbell rang.
Lucy stood up slowly, her body still healing but stronger now. She walked to the door and checked the peephole.
It was Mark Sullivan.
He wasn't in uniform. He wore a simple flannel shirt and jeans, holding a heavy cardboard box filled with baby supplies—diapers, a stroller organizer, and a collection of children’s books.
Since the rescue, Mark had checked on her every week. Not with the heavy, suffocating guilt of Alex, but with a quiet, respectful kindness. He had helped her move, carried her heavy boxes, and never once asked for anything in return.
“Hey,” Mark said, offering a warm, slightly awkward smile as she opened the door. “I brought the rest of the things from the registry. The guys at Station 4 wanted me to deliver them.”
“The guys at 4?” Lucy asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, mostly me,” Mark admitted, his cheeks flushing pink. “But the crew did chip in for the stroller. They... we all wanted to make sure you had everything you needed.”
Lucy felt a warmth bloom in her chest, melting the last of the cold iron that had settled there since the elevator.
“Come in, Mark,” she said, stepping aside. “I just made some tea.”
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As he set the box down, his eyes caught the empty space on her left hand. He didn't say anything, but the look in his eyes was steady, supportive, and entirely present.
For the first time in a long time, Lucy felt like she was breathing clean air.
