Chapter 20

My mind went completely blank.

It was as if the world around me faded out, the sounds of children laughing, the rustle of leaves, even the chirping birds, all of it dissolved into a single moment of suspended breath.

What would you say if I wanted to take responsibility for the baby?

Max’s voice echoed in my ears, calm and serious, as though he had just asked if I wanted another cup of coffee. But this wasn’t coffee. This was my life. My baby. My fear. My future.

I turned to look at him, and for a moment, I wasn’t even sure I was breathing. His expression wasn’t playful or uncertain. It was steady, warm, but laced with something unshakable; intent.

He meant it.

"Max..." I finally managed, my voice cracking under the pressure of a thousand emotions.

He held my gaze, unwavering. "I know I know, this sounds like it’s a lot to drop on you right now. I didn’t say it to pressure you. I just…" He paused, looking away for a moment like the weight of his own words had just caught up to him. "I just want you to know that I’m serious. I meant what I said, I want to be here. And I mean really here."

I swallowed hard. My heart thudded painfully in my chest.

"Why?" I asked, more softly than I intended. "Why would you want to do that? This isn’t your child. You don’t owe me anything."

His eyes flicked back to mine, something fierce and gentle all at once sparking in them. "Because I care. About you. About what you're going through. About this baby. You don’t have to do this alone, Lila. I know what it feels like to be abandoned when you need someone most, and I refuse to be another person who leaves."

I looked away, toward the playground where two kids were chasing each other in circles. Their laughter twisted something inside me. I could barely trust myself with this situation, let alone someone else. But his words...

They sank deeper than I expected.

I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to believe that someone could actually choose to stay. That this didn’t have to be just my burden.

But trust didn’t come easily. Not after everything.

I took a deep breath. "Max, I don’t even know who I am in all this yet. I haven’t figured out how to carry this, how to tell my parents, how to breathe without guilt every morning. And now you’re saying you want to help raise this child? I don’t even know how to raise myself most days."

Max didn’t flinch. "That’s why I want to be there. Not to fix it all but to stand beside you while you figure it out."

I blinked rapidly. The tears were building again, pressing against the edges of my resolve.

"You don’t know what it’s like to carry this," I whispered. "Every single morning I wake up and remember I’m pregnant. That I’m doing this on my own. That I’m hiding it from my parents, hiding it from the man who helped create this life. I feel like I’m lying to everyone. I feel like I’m failing before I’ve even started."

Max reached out, but didn’t touch me. His hand hovered in the space between us, an offering.

"You’re not failing, Lila. You’re surviving. You’re doing what you need to do. That’s not failure. That’s bravery."

I stared at him, my heart stuttering under the pressure of his words. My shoulders slumped, the weight of carrying it all alone suddenly too much to bear.

"And if you decide you don’t want me involved, I’ll respect that," Max added. "But I couldn’t sit back and not say it. I had to let you know what I’m willing to give. Not because I feel sorry for you but because I see you. I see how strong you are. And I believe in you."

It was too much.

The kindness.

The sincerity.

The way he looked at me like I wasn’t broken, like I wasn’t some pitiful tale.

I wiped at a tear that slipped down my cheek. "You always say the right things."

"Only when they’re true."

I exhaled slowly and turned away, watching a little girl with pigtails spin in circles until she tumbled into the grass, giggling. Her mother scooped her up and kissed her forehead, and something sharp twisted in my chest.

"I don’t even know what kind of mother I’ll be," I said quietly.

"The kind that shows up," Max replied without hesitation. "The kind that feels deeply, that takes responsibility for her actions. I mean you could have decided to do away with this child given the circumstances surrounding it but you chose to keep it. That matters more than you know."

We sat in silence for a while, both of us watching the world move around us. The park slowly emptied, parents gathering their kids, the sky beginning to fade into darkness.

I could feel the moment drawing to a close, the heaviness between us settling like dust.

Eventually, Max stood. He looked down at me, a softness in his features I hadn’t noticed before.

"I should get going. I didn’t mean to drop a bomb on you like that. I just... needed to be honest."

I nodded, my voice caught somewhere between my ribs and my throat. "Thank you."

He offered a faint smile. "Anytime."

He turned to leave, hands in his pockets, shoulders a little tenser than when we arrived. I watched him walk away, a strange ache blooming in my chest. Part of me wanted to call him back. Part of me didn’t know what I would say if I did.

When he disappeared around the corner of the park path, I leaned back against the bench, staring up at the softening sky.

Could I really let someone in? Could I trust again not just Max, but myself?

The baby kicked lightly, just a flutter, but it was enough.

I placed a hand over my stomach.

You deserve love. You deserve peace. I don’t know how I’ll give it to you, but I’ll try. Every single day, I’ll try.

I stayed there long after the sky had darkened, letting the weight of everything settle. I didn’t have all the answers. Maybe I wouldn’t for a long time. But for the first time in weeks, I didn’t feel quite so alone.

And that had to count for something.