Chapter Twenty

Kyla.

The ceiling blurs above me as I lie in bed, unable to shut my mind off. The headlines, the whispers, the cruel speculation none of it hurts as much as the memories that won’t stop clawing back when I least expect them.

And tonight, they come like a tidal wave.

I close my eyes, and suddenly, I’m not here anymore. I’m back there five years ago, the night my body betrayed me and the contractions started far too soon.

I can still feel it. The sharp twist low in my belly, the tightening that stole my breath and had me gripping the edge of the bed until my knuckles turned white. I remember whispering to myself, Not now, please not now, but my body didn’t listen. My babies wanted out, and I was terrified. I was all alone with no family and no help. 

I reached for my phone with trembling hands, my heart pounding as I scrolled to the only number I wanted at that moment. Jake. My husband. The man who once swore he would never leave my side.

It rang once. Twice. Three times. Panic surged in me as the contraction tightened again, sharp enough to bring tears to my eyes. By the fourth ring, someone finally answered.

But it wasn’t Jake.

“Kyla?” The voice dripped with venom, one I recognized instantly.

Amina. My sister. She was picking his phone now. 

For a second, I couldn’t even process it. My breath hitched, words tangled in my throat. “Amina? Where is Jake? Put him on, I need to talk to him, it's..”

Her laugh cut me off, cold and cruel. “He is not available right now. Not for you. Not anymore.”

My body seized with another contraction, the pain ripping through me as I cried out. “Please, just please, I need to talk to him! I’m in labor, Amina. The babies are coming. I need Jake, I am all alone.”

There was silence on the line for a moment, and I thought maybe she’d hand him the phone. Maybe she had some shred of humanity left. But then her voice returned, sharp as glass.

“You don’t get it, do you Kyla? Jake is mine now. He chose me. Whatever you think you had with him is over, move on with your life and leave us alone.”

Her words sliced into me deeper than the pain in my body. My heart shattered in my chest, breaking in ways I didn’t know it could.

“Amina,” I sobbed, clutching the phone like it was the only lifeline I had. “Please. These are his children. He deserves to know. Just let me”

“No.” Her voice was final, laced with triumph. “Move on, Kyla. Stay gone. Because if you come back, I will make sure there’s nothing left for you here, I am pregnant too with his child.”

And then the line went dead.

I remember the sound of it, that hollow click as she hung up on me. It echoed in my head louder than my own screams as another contraction ripped me apart.

I dropped the phone, curling around my stomach, my tears soaking the sheets. I felt abandoned, betrayed, stripped of every ounce of safety I thought I had.

And worse I felt invisible.

We had talked about kids, we both wanted them. And now he was having a kid with my sister and I was having my kids alone. 

The man I loved, the man I had built a life with, wasn’t the one who answered when I needed him most. My sister was. My own blood. And she told me to disappear.

I remember clawing my way to the hospital alone, clutching my belly, trying to breathe through the pain while strangers stared. I remember the coldness of the gurney, the sterile scent of antiseptic, the nurse’s voice urging me to push.

And through it all, I kept waiting. Waiting for Jake to burst through the doors. Waiting for his hand to find mine. Waiting for the man who swore to be my anchor to show up.

But he never came. And I had to accept that he was never coming to save me. 

Instead, I gave birth with no one by my side. I screamed into the air, tears pouring down my face as Elias’s cry filled the room, then Channel’s right after. Two perfect little lives who didn’t know their father wasn’t there to welcome them into the world.

The doctor placed them in my arms, and I broke. Completely. My heart swelled with love so fierce it hurt, but it was laced with grief so heavy I thought it might crush me.

I whispered their names over and over, clinging to them like they were the only reason I was still breathing. Elias. Channel. My babies. My salvation. We had always planned on naming them just that, a boy Elias and a girl Chanel, and I still kept that promise by naming them, the very names their dad had come up with. 

But beneath that love was a hollow ache. A hole where Jake should have been.

Lying here now, years later, the pain is still fresh. My body curls in on itself, my arms wrapping around my chest as if I can protect myself from the memory. But I can’t. It’s branded into me, an open wound that never healed.

I can still hear Amina’s voice, dripping with triumph, telling me to stay gone. I can still feel the emptiness of that delivery room, the way the walls closed in around me as I realized I was truly alone.

And I can still taste the bitterness of knowing Jake never came. Whether he knew or not he wasn’t there. He didn’t fight for me. He didn’t fight for us.

I blink hard, staring at the shadows dancing across my ceiling. My babies are safe now, sleeping just down the hall. They’ll never know the details of that night not yet. Maybe not ever. They’ll only know that I love them more than life itself, that I’d walk through fire to protect them.

But me? I’ll always carry that night in my bones.

And now that Jake has seen me again, now that he knows I’m alive, I wonder if he’ll ever learn the truth of where I was when our children entered the world. I wonder if it would break him, or if he’d simply fold back into Amina’s arms and let her soothe him with lies.

The thought twists in my chest, leaving me breathless.

I bury my face in the pillow, trying to silence the sob building in my throat. I don’t want to cry. I don’t want to give the memory that power. But the tears slip out anyway, hot and silent, streaking down my cheeks until they soak the fabric beneath me.