Chapter Thirty Four

Kyla. 

The door closes behind him with a soft click, but the sound feels like a gunshot in my chest. Jake’s gone. He didn’t slam it, didn’t storm out, he didn’t say a cruel word either, but the silence he left behind is worse.

I can still see the look in his eyes, though. Shock. Confusion. The way he studied Elias was like he had seen a ghost. The way he smiled for the kids, but his hands betrayed him, clenching tight against his thighs.

He knows.

Or at least, he suspects. How could he not? 

I swallow hard, pulling my children closer, like their warmth can shield me from the storm that’s coming. Chanel is still leaning against me, humming softly as she colors in the notebook Mara gave her. Elias is bouncing, still full of energy, making spaceship noises with the hospital remote.

They don’t notice. They don’t feel the shift in the air. They don’t realize the careful world I’ve built around us just cracked at the seams.

“Mommy, your friend is nice,” Elias says suddenly, looking up at me with his wide, innocent eyes. “Is he gonna come back?”

My throat tightens. I force a smile, brushing a curl out of his face. “Yes, baby. I think so.” I didn't even think he had noticed Jake standing there. 

But the truth is, I don’t know if he left to get some air or just left completely. I wouldn't blame him if he did. There was a lot I needed to tell him. 

When I called Mara last night, I hadn’t thought about Jake finding out this way. I’d only been thinking about Chanel and Elias, about how much they needed to see me, how much I needed to hold them after the nightmare of last night. My brain wasn’t working like a strategist; it was working like a mother.

And now, now I can’t undo what’s been done.

I stroke Chanel’s hair, watching her little brows furrow as she colors. She looks so much like me at that age it makes my chest ache. But Elias, I can’t deny it anymore. Elias looks like him. Like Jake.

I had always told myself it was a coincidence, that children resemble strangers all the time. I convinced myself it was easier to believe in accidents than to face the truth. But seeing Jake’s face when his eyes locked on my son, it was like the mirror I had been hiding behind shattered.

My pulse pounds. What if he asks me? What if he demands to know the truth? What if he already knows and is only walking away to decide whether to hate me for keeping it from him?

“Mama,” Chanel whispers, pulling me back. She rests her small hand on my stomach, her eyes searching mine. “You are not gonna cry, right? Don’t cry. You said you were okay.”

I kiss her forehead, tasting salt from my own tears. “I’m okay, sweetheart. I’m okay.”

But I’m not. I’m terrified.

I glance at the door again, half expecting, half hoping for Jake to burst back in, full of accusations. But the hallway stays quiet. My chest burns with the weight of words I have never spoken out loud, the truth I have buried so deep I almost believed it would stay hidden forever.

Mara catches my eye from the chair in the corner. She’s been silent, giving us space, but she saw Jake’s face too. She is no fool. Her brows pinch with questions she doesn’t ask, and I’m grateful. I couldn’t answer even if I wanted to.

Elias wriggles, tugging at my hand. “Mommy, can we go home now? I don’t like this place. It smells weird.”

A sad laugh escapes me. “Soon, baby. Soon.”

But my mind isn’t on discharge papers or healing. It’s on Jake. On the way his eyes darted between me and my son, like he was doing math in his head. Like he was rearranging every memory we’ve shared, every word I never said.

I’ve kept this secret for so long. To protect them. To protect myself. To protect him.

But maybe it’s too late now.

Because for the first time, someone besides me can see the resemblance. And that someone is the one person I was most desperate to keep it from.

My hand shakes as I reach for Elias, pulling him into my lap. He giggles, resting his head on my chest, oblivious to the war tearing me apart inside.

How long before Jake comes back? How long before the questions start? And when they do, what will I say?

The truth?

Or another lie to keep the fragile walls of my world standing?

I hold both my children tighter, my arms wrapped around them like I can stop time. For now, they’re safe. For now, they are mine.