“We don’t even know if it’s yours.”
There it was. The lifeline she was holding on to, creating the space she needed to keep between us.
I didn’t hesitate. “I do.”
Her eyes locked onto mine.
“I know.”
“That’s not how this works.” Her tone shook. “You don’t just know something like that.”
“I do.”
“How?” she demanded. “How could you possibly know that?”
Her breath hitched, and her entire body went still.
“You don’t?—”
“I do,” I repeated, unwavering.
Her eyes dropped to her stomach. “I can’t stay here,” she murmured.
“You can.”
“I shouldn’t.”
“Maybe not.”
Her eyes lifted to mine again. “Then why are you making me?”
“I’m not making you. I’m just giving you a reality you can actually survive.”
Tears slipped down her cheeks, quiet and steady. “I hate this,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“I hate you.”
“I know.”
Her eyes closed briefly, and when she opened them, the fight in her was long gone. She didn’t have anywhere else to go, and that was honestly my saving grace. She was so mad at me, and I deserved it.
Her hand stayed on her stomach, holding something bigger than this moment. It was bigger than Julius. Bigger than me.
It was what kept her there with me. Now she wasn’t just thinking about herself, and she knew it. Even if she hated every second of it, I watched it settle over her.
The weight.
The acceptance she didn’t want.
The decision she hadn’t said out loud but had already made.
She wasn’t leaving.
Not tonight, not like this, and maybe not at all.
Not when she finally understood that a baby was growing inside her.
