He flinches.
“Cecily—”
“No,” I cut him off, shaking my head. “This is what all of this has turned me into—someone who feels relief when another woman loses a child. An innocent life ends, and I’m glad.”
He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t try to make it better.
Maybe because he finally understands there’s nothing left he can fix.
I press a hand to my mouth, battling the urge to be sick.
“But the worst part?” I choke on the words. “It’s not wishing things were different. It’s knowing I won’t have to see that heartbreak in our children’s eyes. I won’t have to watch their world collapse all over again when they find out you were going to have a child with another woman. Not now that this child doesn’t exist anymore.”
I let out a breath that shudders in my chest.
“And I don’t even recognize myself anymore,” I whisper, my voice breaking on the confession. “Am I still a decent person?”
“That’s not who you are. Don’t say that. You have more heart than anyone I’ve ever met,” he says firmly. “But me? You don’t even want to know what my reaction was.”
He looks away, unable to hold my gaze.
I don’t ask.
“So what now?” I manage to say. “Is it really over? Or do I need to brace myself for something worse?”
“There’s nothing else,” he says. he says. He tries for a firm tone, but his conviction falters. “I promise. She’s gone from the company. Soon she won’t be able to touch us at all.”
I nod once, my expression cool and unmoved.
“I’d really like to believe you,” I breathe, “but I guess I’ll have to wait and see.”
He lowers his eyes, and I almost feel sorry for him. But after everything, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to trust him again.
Not in any way that matters.
I look at Ethan and take a long, steadying breath before I speak.
“She… the woman your father was involved with lost the baby. Miscarriages are… unfortunately common.”
Ethan watches me for a moment, saying nothing.
“So the baby’s gone?” he asks. There’s a small note of hope in his voice, one that he’s clearly trying to hide.
I nod. The words don’t come, so I just let the silence confirm it.
He exhales loudly, digs his fingers into the back of his neck, pulling at a tension that makes him look years older.
“Good,” he says at last, but the word wavers, like he’s still trying to convince himself it’s true.
“I don’t think a woman who did what she did would’ve been a good mother,” he adds. There’s an edge in his voice now, bitter and hard. “And now he won’t get to ruin another child’s life.”
I look away. The truth in his voice is a wound I don’t know how to touch, let alone mend.
I sit beside him and gently brush the hair from his forehead. He needs a haircut, but I don’t mention it. These days, I let him keep control over whatever he can.
“You don’t have to worry anymore,” I whisper. “She can’t interfere with our family ever again.”
He looks at me, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Why not?”
