Toxic | Leila & Christian

Alternate Ending

Leila's Pov;

Months of therapy, adherence to a strict diet and exercise routine, and Mommy and Me classes can do more good for a new and extremely unprepared mother than I would've ever thought possible. Somehow being a mother has changed me. I have something to live for and something to fight for. It gives me more strength than I ever had on my own. I don't remember much of the time after the moment I snapped. I remember the cool feel of the gun in my hand. The stinging rejection that sent me spiraling. He doesn't love me. He doesn't want me. The realization burned a hole through my chest where my heart used to be. It rings in my ears even now, haunting me. I burry it deep in the back of my mind and practice mindful breathing. It's what Flynn and my team of doctors taught me to do in times of stress. They can't take away the pain of having loved and have that love left unreturned, but they can help the variety of mental health issues that had run rampant in me since the early days of adolescence. They can give me new ways to cope with unwanted emotions and help me figure out my triggers and how to stop the intrusive thoughts before they turn into actions that I cannot undue. The first months were the hardest after I was placed in the psychiatric facility. When I gave birth I couldn't see my son alone for at least the first month. I had to be monitored to ensure I was healing both body and mind. I know our son stayed with his father during that time. I still find it funny sometimes to think of how Mr. Christian Grey handled taking care of a newborn baby all alone, when it doesn't hurt too much to remember why he had to. Now our son lives with me full time in a comfortable one-bedroom apartment overlooking downtown Seattle. I know given our tumultuous relationship and my clear mental health issues Christian could've easily fought for full custody. With all that money and boyish charm he would've won any judge over. Instead he took the opposite route. He kept our boy only until I was well enough to keep him on my own, then he handed him over without making any fuss. He said babies shouldn't be kept apart from their mothers. I understand why he takes this stance so passionately, even when it means he might suffer. He only asked that he get some visitation. He mostly wanted half-days on holidays, every other weekend, and once school starts in a few years he wants to do drop offs in the morning on his way to work. He looked so stunning in his perfectly tailored gray suit, it took everything in me not to stare during our final court date to determine our co-parenting plan. I could tell he was avoiding looking too directly at me too. It can be hard to keep feelings out of the equation when we're together, but it's a must if we want to work out the best plan for our sons well-being rather than our own. I haven't seen Christian directly since that day. Grace comes to pick up our son and brings him to Christian during their visits, then she returns him to me without any mention of him from either of us. We make small talk occasionally, other times she just updates me on our sons feeding schedule or naptimes. Christian keeps it all in a journal we pass back and forth. He is as usual the control freak, always wanting everyone around him on the perfect schedule. The sky is sunny and bright today, rare for where we live, and it brings me a sense of optimism I cannot shake. As Grace drives off, taking her grandson with her, I stare out the window admiring the view. I gather my paintbrushes and begin my newest work, a still life of the Seattle skyline. As I absentmindedly hum away and bring my view to life in paint form, I begin to wonder about what today will bring. I imagine a peaceful evening, nothing exciting or new, just normalcy at its best, but I dream of gray suits and silk ties. 

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Christian's Pov;

I lean against my mothers kitchen island, trying my best to zone out, as Mia chitters on happily about her most recent adventures to my father, and Elliot not so sneakily steals a bite of a fresh baked banana muffin mom left on the counter for after dinner. Sunday dinner with my family is always both a delight and a chore. Nothing beats moms cooking, not even the hired help, but if I have to hear one more joke about my affliction for 'psych ward pussy' from Elliot, I am going to lose it. "Hey, Christian! How's the baby momma drama going?" I glare at Elliot, hoping my expression conveys the message that I am exactly one wrong word away from murdering my brother and leaving no trace of the man that used to be. He appears amused, not at all threatened. "At least I can get a girl pregnant. You sure you're not shooting blanks, Lelliot?" I fire back, enjoying our little banter now. "Nah, man. I just know how to use a rubber." He grins, before digging into his second muffin. "Oh, will you guys shut up?" Mia chimes in. Her nose is all scrunched up as if she is repulsed. I didn't think she'd manage to hear us over the sound of her own loud mouth. The doors open seemingly out of nowhere and mom walks in smiling brightly with a baby in her arms. We lock eyes and his excited babbling begins. He can't quite talk yet. That'll come in the next couple months. She hands him to me right away. He doesn't say dad yet but he can say "babba" and that's close enough for me. "Did you miss me? I sure know I missed you." I hold him closer, breathing in that addicting baby scent. Leila was kind to let me have him for Sunday dinner even though it's not my usual weekend with him. I try not to let my mind wander too much, but I wonder what she's up to today. She's baby free and has the day off work. What could she possibly be doing with her free time? She could have a date. Sunday dinner with a co-worker, or a single father from the parenting classes she takes. She could be at the gym. I know which one she goes to. It's walking distance from her apartment. While I know I can't watch over her all hours of the day anymore, I had to hire a security guy to at least keep eyes on her while she goes out and about. I couldn't live with myself if something happened to her. She's the mother of my son after all. What if she met a guy at the gym? What if she has someone over now? She could be bent over the bed right now, putting the body she worked so hard for to good use. She could get pregnant again. She could start a family with someone knew. Someone could take my place. Someday she'll forget all about me, but I could never forget those wide bourbon brown eyes. I snap myself out of my temporary spiral just in time for dinner. I cannot let myself be overcome with jealousy over a simple possibility. For all I know she's up in that apartment thinking of me too. It's a long shot, I know, but over dinner I begin to devise my plan. When mom begins to prepare to take my son back home I find the courage to stop her.  "Actually, tonight I was thinking of taking him home on my own." I state, trying to sound perfectly smooth. I hope she cannot read what I am thinking. There's no way she'd let me take him if she did. She pauses for a moment to think, taken aback by my request. "Well, I suppose there's no reason you can't." It was never decided that she had to be the one to transport. I just told her to so that I wouldn't risk throwing Leila off her progress by bringing up old memories. I know the way to Leila's place by heart. She comes out of her apartment right away when I arrive, then stops when she sees it's me and not my mother at her door. "Christian." She says my name and it's like a piece of my heart has come unlocked. My feelings for her were tucked away somewhere deep down. I had almost forgotten they ever existed. Her eyes are wide as ever, but they don't look so deep-set in her face. She looks so much healthier than she ever did when she was with me. I clear my throat, trying to find something to say, but I'm at a loss for words as my eyes travel downwards. Her body looks different too. There are new curves, but also new muscles. Definition that was never there before. My eyes glaze over as I hesitate on her exposed legs. She's always had beautiful legs. "Leila." I say her name softly, fondly. "I'd like to come in." I announce it authoritatively. She steps back wordlessly. Almost submissively. I'm going to win her back. I know I can. As long as she'll let me. It might be hard to create something sweet out of a relationship that once went sour, but we've got no shortage of resources to figure it out together. I want her more than anything after all this time apart. I want to be a family, not just co-parents. I want all holidays and weekends together. I don't want either of us to miss out on a single moment of watching our son grow. I'll do anything it takes to make her the happiest woman in Seattle, even if it means a lot of changed habits on my end. I desire a long, healthy, happy life with her. By all means necessary I will have it. I am master of my own universe and this is the path I chose.