Lynda was gone.
No text. No call. Straight to voicemail.
So Bailey made her way home alone, rain soaking through her clothes, fear settling into her bones. Stepping inside felt like walking into judgment she could not see.
The television was on. Two plates were set on the table. One chair was empty.
Her mother sat by the window, staring into the rain.
“Mom.”
No answer.
“Mom.”
Her mother turned, eyes widening when she saw Bailey drenched, trembling, her shoes still dripping onto the floor.
“Bailey?” Her voice softened instantly. “What happened to you? Why are you soaked like this?”
Bailey opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her knees buckled and she caught herself on the edge of the table, breath stuttering as if her chest had forgotten how to work.
“Everyone hates me,” she finally whispered. “They look at me like I am dirty. Like I did something unforgivable.”
Her mother stepped closer, confusion crossing her face. “Slow down. Sit. Tell me what you mean.”
Bailey shook her head, tears spilling faster now.
“I tried to fix it. I tried to be strong. I went to a clinic today because I thought I had no choice.” Her hands pressed to her stomach as if protecting something already fading. “I was so scared, Mom. I thought I was going to lose myself completely.”
Her mother froze. “Clinic?” she repeated quietly.
“I am pregnant,” Bailey said, the words breaking her. “It is Ashton’s. I swear it is. But he walked away. He did not even ask. And the rumors…” She swallowed hard. “No one believed me. Not him. Not my friends. I thought you would not either.”
Her mother’s breath caught.
“I came home because I had nowhere else to go,” Bailey sobbed. “I need you. I do not know how to do this alone. Please believe me. Please. If you turn away from me too, I do not think I will survive it.”
For a long moment, her mother said nothing. Then she reached out, hands trembling, and pulled Bailey into her arms, holding her so tightly it almost hurt.
“Oh, Bailey,” she whispered into her hair. “My sweet girl. I am so sorry you carried this by yourself. You should have never felt alone.”
Bailey clung to her, breaking completely as her mother wrapped her in a fierce, protective embrace, as if daring the world to take anything more from her.
“I believe you,” her mother said firmly. “And I am here. I am not going anywhere.”
They cried together, mourning what was lost and what would never be the same.
Two days later, her mother packed their things. They left town without looking back.
Bailey learned something that night. She did not leave town with closure.
She left with silence, with unanswered questions, with a heart that had learned how easily love could be twisted into cruelty. She carried the truth no one wanted, the child no one defended, and the knowledge that when she needed people most, they chose to look away.
That night taught her what her parents’ marriage had already hinted at—love did not protect. It abandoned. It judged. It disappeared when it became inconvenient.
So Bailey learned to survive without it.
She built a life where trust was earned slowly, where hope was dangerous, and where the past stayed buried.
