They would’ve stepped up and tried to fix things, make it right, and do what they thought was best for me and the baby.
At least, that’s what the fantasy version I’ve concocted in my head says.
I never wanted to be someone’s obligation.
I didn’t want Eli to grow up feeling like a mistake his fathers had to correct.
I wanted him to bemine, born out of chaos, yes, but raised with love not guilt. So I never gave them the chance to be fathers.
Still, I’ve wondered more times than I care to admit what would’ve happened if Ihadgone through with it.
If I’d picked up the phone back then and told one of them the truth.
Would they have believed me?
Would they have fought each other trying to claim him, or would they have laughed it off as impossible?
The chances were so low. I was on birth control, and it hadn’t failed me yet.
It’s a thought that always hits late at night when the house is quiet.
I’ll be lying there in bed, staring up at the ceiling, and my mind drifts to the what-ifs. It’s a cruel kind of daydream because I know it doesn’t change anything.
My life, the way it is now, is still good. Eli’s happy, my business is thriving,
Dad’s proud of me. But the romantic in me is never quiet.
It whispers on those sleepless nights, painting alternate versions of my life in soft, impossible fragments of light. Ones where I never had to hide, where love didn’t have to be something secret and stained by guilt.
Lila’s voice cuts back in. “—and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, okay? You’re a badass mom. You made something beautiful out of a mess. Nobody gets to take that from you.”
I blink, pulled back to the present. Her words steady me, a lifeline in the storm raging inside me. “Thanks, Lila. I needed that.”
“Hey, I’m always here for you, okay?”
Deep down, though, the ache lingers like a faint bruise beneath the surface that only hurts when pressed.
It’s the quiet, wistful longing for a life that might have been.
A version of myself who didn’t have to hide. A version where I told the truth and it didn’t destroy everything in its path.
But that’s not my life.
My life is this: raising my son with my dad, turning exhaustion and fear into something steady and bright.
BuildingNoel’s Winter Wondersfrom nothing but an idea and a stubborn streak that refused to quit, creating beauty and joy out of solitude.
I’ve done so much with so little.
I’ve fought for this life, and I’m proud of it.
Still am.
Grant, Dean, and Callum coming back is just a minor setback. A bump in the road. One more thing to navigate and outlast like I always do.
I blow out a shaky breath, letting my shoulders sag as the tension drains from my chest. “Thank you for listening to me. I love you.”
Lila’s voice brightens immediately. “I love you too, girly-pop. And hey—keep me updated, alright? If you need someone to pop by and play bad cop to your good cop, I’m only a phone call away. I’ve got a pair of steel-toe boots I’ve been waiting to use on some unlucky bastard.”
