MasukNANCY'S POV“You think I want to punish a child,” he said.“I think you want to punish him,” I said. “And you will not be able to tell the difference.”Silence. Zade did not speak. I was grateful. If he defended himself now, my father would stop hearing me.“I am not getting on a plane today,” I said again, softer. “I am not packing a bag. I am asking you to stay in Paris if you need to see that I am safe. Come to the doctor with me. Watch him make breakfast and hate every second of it. But do not take this baby’s father away because you cannot stand the sight of him. Please, Dad. I am begging you. Do not do that to us.”My voice broke on his name. I did not try to fix it. The tears were already on my face. I could feel Zade behind me, still and quiet, and I could feel my father in front of me, coat still on, the morning light making him look older than he had in the hallway.He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, the anger was still there. So was something that looked
NANCY'S POVMy father’s jaw worked. The anger was still there. So was the fear. So was the love, which was the part that made this hurt.“Then tell me what you need,” he said.I did not have a clean answer. I needed the baby safe. I needed Zade alive. I needed my father to look at me and see a woman, not a child he had failed to protect. I needed one hour where no one decided my life because they loved me too hard.The room felt too small. The gun was still on the table by the door. The breakfast plates were still out. My stomach was unsettled again, not from the baby this time, from the weight of both of them waiting for me to choose a side.“I need you to be patient with me,” I said. My voice shook, but I kept going. “I need you to stop talking about planes and bags for one hour. I need you to sit in this room and hear that I am not broken just because he is here. I am tired. I am pregnant. I am scared of what you will do. That is not the same as needing to be taken home.”My father
NANCY'S POVSo I told him.I told him about the test. About standing in that bathroom with two lines and no plan. I told him I had not meant for this. I had an IUD. I had thought I was sick from the new name and the new city and the nights I could not sleep. I told him I had been scared to call him because I did not know what I wanted yet, and I could not stand the thought of hearing his voice break.“I was managing,” I said. My eyes stung. “Not well. But I was trying. I had a job. I was going to the doctor. I was going to tell you when I could say it without falling apart.”He did not interrupt. That almost made it worse.“Then I almost got hit by a car,” I said. “I didn’t look. I heard the horn too late. Zade pulled me out of the way. I fainted. When I woke up, he was there, and I thought I was dreaming him.”“He had been watching you,” my father said. Quiet. Hurt under the anger.“Yes.” I did not soften it. “I thought he was gone. I thought he had left me and the baby and moved on
NANCY'S POVI did not move fast enough.His hand went into his coat. When it came back out, there was a gun in it, pointed at Zade. The room went small. The breakfast plates were still on the table. The tea had gone cold. None of that mattered. Zade did not lift his hands. He did not move. He just stood there.“Dad.” My voice came out thin. “Put that down. Please. Let me talk.”“Get behind me,” my father said. He did not look at me. “Now.”“He is not here to hurt me.” I took one step and stopped when the gun did not lower. “He has been here for weeks. He has been taking care of me. If you shoot him, you are not saving me from anything.”“He is the reason you are in this country,” my father said. His voice stayed low, but the anger was right under it. “He lied to me. He lied to you. I heard him say he would kill you. And I walk in and find him standing in your kitchen. Do not ask me to pretend that is fine.”“I am asking you to look at me.”“I am looking at the man I trusted with you.”
NANCY'S POVI wished he could see the man in the mirror and not the one from the recording. I wished he could see Zade holding my hair and brushing my teeth and not asking for anything back. I wished he could see that the danger he was flying toward had spent the night keeping me from falling apart.“Better?” Zade asked.“A little.”He nodded. “Shower. Then food.”He helped me out of the shirt I had slept in. The water was warm. He stayed close, not crowding me, just there if the dizziness came back. He washed my hair because lifting my arms made my stomach turn again. His hands were gentle on my scalp. I closed my eyes and let the water run over both of us and tried not to think about the knock that was coming.After, he wrapped me in a towel and found me simple clothes. Soft pants. A loose shirt that did not press on my stomach. He dressed while I sat on the edge of the bed and watched the clock. Every minute felt louder than it should have.In the kitchen he made breakfast like it
NANCY'S POVHis jaw tightened. For a second I thought I had reached him.“I am not staying because I am proud,” he said. “I am staying because if I leave, he walks into an empty apartment and decides I ran because I am guilty of something worse. I am staying because you are shaking. I am staying because I told you I would not leave you alone with this.”“He said you are dangerous.”Zade was quiet for a second. His thumb moved once over the small curve of my stomach.“I was,” he said. “To the wrong people. Not to you. Not anymore. He does not have to believe that tonight. He only has to not shoot me before I can say it.”A sound left me that was almost a laugh and almost a sob. He pulled me down onto the bed, into his chest, one arm around my back, the other hand in my hair.“Breathe,” he said against the top of my head. “He is on a plane. He is not at the door. We have hours.”“Hours is not enough.”“It is what we have.” His hand moved slow over my back. “You tried to lie to him.”“He







