Chapter 1: Pregnant With Secrets

Evelyn Brooks can’t stand kids, and yet here I am—pregnant. Go figure.

Just thinking about it made my heart bang around in my chest, a jittery, restless flutter I couldn’t shake. I’d always pegged myself as the last person who’d wind up in a situation like this. But there I was, staring myself down in the bathroom mirror, hands pressed to my belly, trying to make sense of something that felt totally impossible.

That night, I tried to suss out how he really felt about the whole thing.

His hand slid over to my waist as he teased, “What, are you pregnant or something?”

I shot it down, panic crawling up my throat.

My voice came out way too high, way too fast. “Of course not! Don’t be ridiculous.” I tossed out a laugh, hoping he wouldn’t notice how tight my grip was on the comforter.

He ran his fingers through my hair. “Babe, let’s just enjoy our life, okay? We don’t need kids.”

His thumb traced lazy circles behind my ear, smoothing away imaginary creases in time. I tried to melt into the touch, but the tension buzzing under my skin wouldn’t let go. My brain was already sprinting ahead, tripping over what-ifs I didn’t want to admit.

But I was already pregnant.

One day, I caught a snippet of gossip: “Maya Greene’s been with Mr. Brooks for years and still hasn’t moved up. No way she’s marrying into that family.”

I heard them in the hallway at work, voices just low enough to pretend they weren’t talking about me. My name floated through the air like a bad penny. My cheeks burned, but I kept walking, head held high.

“She’s so clueless, right? I mean, if she just had a kid to force his hand, wouldn’t that work?”

Their words hit harder than I wanted to admit. I almost laughed—like having a baby was some kind of power play, a ticket to the big leagues.

“What do you know? Evelyn Brooks can’t stand the idea of an unexpected kid. If it came down to it, he’d have no problem cutting ties for good.”

I ducked into the ladies’ room before they could catch the look on my face. My hands shook as I splashed cold water on my cheeks, trying to process the mess I’d landed in.

For my own sake—and for the baby—I spent that whole night hunting for an escape route.

I sat at the kitchen table until sunrise, laptop open, coffee cold. I scrolled through forums, legal advice subreddits, even old emails from my mom. My mind looped the same questions: How do you leave someone you love? How do you do it when you’re carrying their kid?

[ I don’t want to be your backup plan anymore. I just want a normal life. Thanks for everything these years. ]

I typed the words, deleted them, then typed them again. I stared at the message, finger hovering over ‘send.’ I wanted to be brave, but my chest was tight with fear. Still, I knew I had to do it. Finally, I hit send, then closed my laptop with hands that wouldn’t stop shaking.

Half a month later, I was hiding out in a tiny Georgia town. Right after I’d asked a pregnant woman on Main Street for advice, someone suddenly swept me up into their arms.

The sun beat down, the air thick with the smell of fresh-cut grass and barbecue smoke. I’d just finished chatting with a sweet lady outside the bakery, her sundress stretched over her belly, when someone grabbed me from behind. My heart shot straight into my throat.

A man’s voice, hoarse and rough with exhaustion, broke through.

“Babe, who came up with ‘kept woman,’ anyway? Aren’t I your boyfriend?”

His Southern drawl was softer than usual, a little worn around the edges. I froze, pulse hammering, as it clicked—Evelyn. Here, of all places.

“This baby is adorable.”

He glanced at the woman’s belly, then back at me, eyes searching my face. I tried to wriggle free, but he just pulled me closer, his arms warm and solid. Main Street traffic rolled by, slow and lazy, like we were the only two people in the world.

After my shower, I flopped on the bed and watched videos. Evelyn’s long fingers threaded through my hair, massaging my scalp. It felt so good I could’ve melted.

My eyelids fluttered, and I almost purred at the gentle pressure. The soft hum of the hair dryer, the familiar whiff of his cologne, the way his thumb pressed behind my ear—it all felt so close, so heartbreakingly sweet. I wanted to bottle this feeling and keep it for the bad days.

Over the hair dryer’s roar, he answered absentmindedly, “Mm.”

He barely glanced at me, busy drying my hair, but his touch radiated a warmth that made my heart ache. The hair dryer’s drone filled the room, drowning out the nervous tap of my foot on the carpet.

I could tell he was just humoring me, so I pushed, “Don’t you think she’s cute? She really is, right?”

I tried to sound chill, but my voice cracked. I showed him a video of a giggling toddler on my phone, desperate for a reaction. My stomach twisted into knots, waiting for him to say something.

He glanced at my phone, still drying my hair.

“Babe, this is the fifth time you’ve asked me tonight. Are you pregnant?”

He said it with a smirk, but his eyes flicked up, sharp and searching. Suddenly, the air between us felt charged, buzzing with questions I couldn’t dodge.

My heart did a weird little skip.

I froze, my fingers knotted in the comforter. My mouth went dry. For a second, I forgot how to breathe. The question just hung there, heavy and unavoidable.

I’d never brought up kids before, but tonight I kept dropping hints—anyone would get suspicious.

I tried to play it off, but inside, I was screaming. I’d always kept my feelings zipped up, but tonight they kept slipping out, one after another.

I faked a whine, like always: “No, we’ve always been careful. How could I be pregnant? It’s just the algorithm. I liked one kid’s video and now Instagram keeps feeding me a million more. Every kid is so cute, don’t you think?”

I forced a laugh, scrolling through the endless baby videos. My voice was light, but my hands trembled as I set the phone aside. I could feel Evelyn’s eyes on me, weighing every word.

Snap—

The hair dryer clicked off.

The sudden silence rang in my ears. I looked up, met his gaze in the mirror. His face was unreadable, lips pressed in a hard line.

The room went still.

Even the city noise outside faded, like the whole world was holding its breath, waiting to see what came next.

Evelyn leaned over and rubbed my head.

His touch was gentle, almost tender, like he was trying to comfort both of us. I closed my eyes, wishing things could just stay easy.

“Babe, you don’t have to tiptoe around. You can just ask me straight.”

His voice was low, almost pleading. There was something raw there I hadn’t heard before. It made my throat ache.

“I don’t want kids. Let’s just be us, okay? Please?”

He sounded so sure, so final. I wanted to argue, to beg him to reconsider, but the words wouldn’t come. My hands curled into fists under the blanket.

So that’s how it was.

I forced myself not to touch my stomach, rolled up in the blanket, and went to sleep.

I lay there, staring at the ceiling, counting seconds between breaths. The weight of my secret pressed down like a cinderblock. I squeezed my eyes shut and begged for sleep.

Evelyn turned off the light, and the bed dipped as he lay down.

He moved quietly, careful not to jostle me. The soft click of the lamp echoed in the darkness. I felt the mattress shift as he settled beside me.

He pulled me into his arms.