“Mommy!
Where did you go?”
Theo came barreling down the hallway, his small feet thudding against the floorboards.
He was already wearing his backpack, the straps slightly crooked over his shoulders.
He threw his arms around Lily’s legs, burying his face in her skirt.
“Oh my love…I had to handle something, baby,” Lily said, smoothing his hair back.
She felt the frantic energy of the morning draining away, replaced by the soothing weight of his gaze.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up.”
Theo pulled back, his brow furrowed in a way that made him look so much like his father it hurt to breathe.
“Who’s taking me to school?
You said you would.”
Lily looked up.
Marcus was leaning against the kitchen island, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes fixed on them.
“Uncle Marc will,” Lily said.
Theo shifted, looking between them.
He kicked at the floor, his bottom lip jutting out.
“Mom, can I ask?”
“Go on baby “.
Lily said rubbing his chin.
“Mom, is Uncle Marc my dad?”
Lily’s spine went rigid.
The air in the room felt like it had been sucked out.
She looked at Marcus, then back at her son, her forced smile feeling like a mask that was about to shatter.
“Um, no, sweetie,” she said, her voice strained.
“He’s just your uncle.
He’s not your dad.”
Theo didn’t move.
He kept his wide, hurt eyes on her face and pouted.
“Then what about my dad?
All the kids in school, they talk about their dads.
They bring big things their dads got for them.
One boy… he calls me names because I don’t have one.”
Lily dropped to her knees, taking his small, warm hands in hers.
She looked at him with everything she had.
“Theo, listen to me.
Your dad isn’t here, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t loved.
You are so, so loved.
More than anyone in that school.
Your dad is a super hero and he’d always come to save you which means…..” She giggled.
“No one can hurt me!” His face lightened, and he giggled.
“That’s my boy”.
Lily said, raising her hands for a high five.
Theo searched her face and smiled before he finally nodded.
“Okay.”
“Go wait for Uncle Marc outside, okay?
He’ll be out in a second.”
When he was gone, Marcus stepped forward.
He didn’t look at her; he looked at the door Theo had just closed.
“I think it’s high time I married you,” he said, and he let out a short, sharp laugh.
But his eyes didn’t laugh.
They were steady, waiting for an answer.
Lily laughed too, a hollow, nervous sound.
“Marcus!
Stop it.”
“I’m serious, Lily.” He grabbed his keys and headed for the door without another word, leaving her standing in the silence of the apartment.
Hmmm, Don’t mind him.
He was just joking”.
She told herself.
She quickly changed her clothes to a nice suit and left for her office.
*******
Two hours later, the office felt like a cage.
Lily sat on the edge of Zara’s desk, her fingers tapping rhythmically against the wood.
“I think I’m in love with him,” Lily whispered, the words feeling foreign and heavy on her tongue.
Zara looked up from her computer, her expression unreadable.
She shifted in her seat, her gaze drifting toward the window.
“Then go for him, Lily.
You deserve someone solid.”
“I want to,” Lily said, her head aching.
“I really do.
But I just… I don’t feel it.
Not the way I should.
I like him, I do, but when he talks about the future, about… everything, I just feel like I’m sinking.”
“Maybe you’re just scared,” Zara said, though her hands were clenched tightly under the desk.
She stood up and pulled Lily into a hug, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
“You’ve been through so much.
It’s okay to take your time.”
Lily leaned into her, closing her eyes.
She didn’t see the way Zara’s eyes filled with a sudden, sharp regret.
She didn’t see the way Zara’s jaw tightened, suppressing the secret that was eating her alive.
“I just feel like I’m lying to him every time I say I’m fine,” Lily whispered.
“You’re not lying,” Zara said, her voice thick.
“You’re just surviving.”
Lily pulled away, wiping her eyes.
“Thanks Zara, you’ve been of help to me for so long” .
Zara smiled but it was a nervous one.
*********
VIVIAN’S POV
As she turned to walk back to her office, the nausea wasn’t a wave; it was a sudden, violent drop, like a roller coaster losing its tracks.
Vivian lunged for the bathroom, hitting the cold tile floor just as her stomach turned inside out.
She stayed there for a long time, the porcelain cool against her forehead, her heart hammering a frantic, uneven rhythm.
She sat up and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her movements jerky.
She counted back on her fingers, then she did it again, slower this time.
She grabbed her phone from the vanity and scrolled through her calendar, her thumb hovering over dates from two months ago.
Oh my God.
****
The private clinic on the Upper East Side was quiet, smelling of sterile air and expensive flowers.
She sat in a leather chair, her hands pressed flat against her thighs, feeling the way her skin went cold and clammy.
“Congratulations ma,” the doctor said, looking over the rim of his glasses.
“You are approximately eight weeks pregnant.”
Vivian didn’t breathe.
She didn’t blink.
She just stared at the doctor’s tie.
“Is everything alright?” he asked, leaning forward.
“Yes,” Vivian said.
Her voice sounded thin, like it was coming from someone else.
“Yes, I am just… I was not expecting it.
I am happy.
Thank you.”
She offered a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
The doctor began talking about vitamins and check-ups, but the words were just background noise.
Eight weeks, she thought, the math screaming in her head.
Eight weeks ago, the hotel.
The room that smelled like expensive cologne and desperation.
She hadn’t been careful.
She had told herself the pills were enough, that she was in control, but she had been lying.
It hadn’t been Ethan.
She and Ethan hadn’t been a real couple in months.
It was Richard.
She had been in that room with Richard Sinclair, telling herself it was the last time, just like she had told herself for the last six months.
Oh no, I’m in a mess!
I’m so careless, I’m fucked up.
She took her bag and left for home.
Ethan walked into the apartment that night and didn’t bother to turn on the lights.
He dropped his keys into the bowl with a heavy clack and slumped into the armchair.
He looked like he’d been dragged through the dirt.
Vivian watched him from the sofa, her nails digging into her palms until she could feel the sharp sting of skin breaking.
“Are you still doing this?” she asked with a sharp voice.
“Still chasing after Lily?
She has moved on, Ethan.
She has a life.
She has a man.”
“Don’t,” he muttered, his eyes glued to the floor.
“Three years,” Vivian said, standing up.
“Three years we’ve been together, and you haven’t once looked at me the way you look at her name on your phone.”
Ethan rubbed his face with both hands.
“Vivian…,”
“After everything she did to you?
After she cheated?”
Ethan’s head snapped up.
His eyes were cold, hollowed out by something Vivian couldn’t name.
“She was framed.
My mom framed her.
She did not cheat on me.
I know that now.”
Vivian felt the room go still.
She looked at him, and realized she had never been more than a placeholder.
“I am not with you because I love you, Vivian,” Ethan said, his voice terrifyingly calm.
“I have never told you I love you.
I’ve been here because I didn’t know where else to be.
That is not fair to you, and I am sorry.
But I cannot marry you.
I cannot give you what you want.”
Vivian felt a jagged, ugly laugh bubble up in her throat.
It was too sharp, too high.
She wiped her eye with her index finger, though she wasn’t crying.
“So, what?” she asked.
“Lily comes back to you?
Just like that?”
“That is between me and Lily.”
Vivian laughed again, the sound hitting the walls like a stone.
She took a breath, letting the calculation she’d made in the clinic settle deep in her gut.
This was it.
This was the checkmate.
“Certain circumstances might change that plan,” she said, twirling her hair.
Ethan frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Vivian stepped into the light.
She was steady and certain.
“I am pregnant.”
The silence in the room was absolute.
The only sound was the clock on the wall, ticking with slow, rhythmic precision.
Ethan stared at her.
He didn’t move.
He didn’t speak.
He just kept his eyes on her face, his expression blank, as if he were trying to translate a language he didn’t understand.
“What?”