Chapter 99

Lila’s POV

Morning broke softly, the kind of morning that didn’t come with alarms or the harsh buzz of traffic outside my window. Instead, it slipped gently through the faded floral curtains of my old room, casting pale gold stripes across the floorboards. The scent that drifted in wasn’t the usual bitter mix of exhaust fumes and burnt coffee from the café close to my New York apartment. No this was different, a good kind of different. This smelled like home.

Something warm. Something safe.

The faint aroma of frying eggs and fresh bread wafted through the hallway, mingling with the citrus clean scent that always seemed to cling to this house. That was one thing I picked up from my mom. She loved the smell of citrus and lavender and it always filled our home, and when I moved to New York I also introduced lavender into my apartment. Thinking about it now, maybe that was my own way of saying I missed home.

For a long moment, I stayed curled beneath the blanket, breathing it in, almost afraid that if I moved, it would vanish and I would wake up in that cold apartment again.

But the sounds in the house, the quiet shuffle of feet, the soft clink of plates, my mother’s humming that slipped through the thin walls pulled me to the present. This wasn’t a dream. I was really here.

I pushed myself upright, the blanket sliding to my waist. My body still felt heavy, exhaustion sitting deep in my bones, but there was a calmness here I hadn’t felt in months. My hand drifted to my stomach automatically, fingers pressing lightly against the faint swell. “You’re safe now,” I whispered, though my throat tightened as I said it.

By the time I went to the kitchen, the floorboards groaning beneath my bare feet, my mother was already at the stove, her back turned as she worked with a practiced rhythm. She wore her old apron, the one with faded roses, its edges frayed but still holding strong. The sight made my chest ache. Some things had changed, her hair had more silver, her shoulders a little thinner, but she very much remained the same. She was still my mom.

“Morning, baby,” she said without turning, as though she had sensed me there all along. Her voice was soft, but steady and threaded with a tenderness I had missed more than I knew.

My father looked up from the table where he sat, his morning papers folded neatly beside a steaming mug of coffee. His eyes crinkled, warmth flooding them as he saw me. “There she is,” he said, setting the paper aside completely. “Did you sleep well?”

I hesitated before answering. The truth was complicated. I had slept, but it was the kind of sleep weighed down by too many dreams, too many memories clawing at the edges. “Yes dad, I slept better than I have in a long time,” I said finally, managing a small smile.

My mother turned then, sliding a plate onto the table in front of me. Eggs, toasted bread, and a few slices of fruit arranged neatly, like she had put extra care into making it just right. “Sit and eat baby,” she said firmly. “I hope you don't mind some toast and eggs.”

I obeyed, slipping into the chair across from my father. The moment I picked up a piece of bread, she was already fussing, setting a glass of juice by my elbow. “You need to eat well, don’t pick at your food Lila and remember you are eating for two now.”

Heat rose to my cheeks. She hadn’t said the word “pregnant,” but the reminder was clear. My eyes flicked to my father, expecting discomfort, but all I saw was quiet reassurance. He poured me water without a word, his hands steady.

“Your mother’s right,” he said, his voice calm, carrying that authority he had always had, even in silence. “You don’t need to worry about anything else right now. Just eat, rest and let us handle the rest.”

The knot in my chest tightened. Their words were simple, but behind them lay a kind of love I hadn’t felt in so long. In New York, everything had come with conditions, Max’s feigned devotion, Drew’s guarded half-trust. Here, there were no demands, no expectations. Just genuine love and care.

I tried to eat, though each bite felt caught between hunger and guilt. They were doing everything to shield me, and I couldn’t shake the thought that I was burdening them, bringing all my chaos back into their quiet life.

As if reading my mind, my mother set her hand lightly on mine. “Don’t frown while you eat, baby. This house is your safe place. You don’t have to do anything here but breathe.”

Her words cracked something in me. I swallowed hard and nodded, though the guilt didn’t fully leave.

My father cleared his throat, leaning back slightly. “If you feel like it, later on you can help your mother at the shop or take a walk around the town. Not because you need to, but because sometimes keeping busy helps the mind rest.” His eyes softened. “But if all you want to do is lie under that blanket of yours and stare at the ceiling, that’s fine too. Let the world wait. You have earned the right to stop running for a while.”

I blinked fast, forcing back fresh tears. “Thank you,” I whispered.

They both nodded, as if it was nothing, as if their love was simply a given.

But my thoughts betrayed me.

As I chewed another bite of bread, a question rose, sharp and unwelcoming: Had Drew noticed I was gone yet?

The image of his face the last time I saw him came rushing back, cold, distant and shut off in a way that cut deeper than any words he could have said. He had not trusted me. He had looked at me like I was part of the betrayal, like my presence alone was a risk.

Was he even worried now? Was he searching for me, or had he already decided to let me go?

I pressed my palm to my stomach under the table, a shaky breath slipping from me. At least for his child’s sake… shouldn’t he care? Or was he really going to throw everything away, me and this baby just because his pride couldn’t let him believe me?

The ache in my chest deepened, but I forced my face into calm. My parents didn’t need to see that storm right now. They were giving me peace, and I couldn’t shatter it with doubts about a man who had already shut me out.

After breakfast, my mother reached across the table, brushing crumbs from my sleeve. “Go back and rest, Lila. You need it. Your body has been through more than enough.”

My father nodded in agreement. “Let her fuss over you,” he said with a wry smile. “It makes her happy.”

I laughed weakly, the sound shaky but real. “I will try.”

Back in my room, the bed seemed to call to me instantly. I lay down, hand drifting again to my stomach, my mother’s reassurances echoing against the doubts that still clung to me. Their love was steady, unyielding, but Drew’s absence was a hollow I couldn’t ignore.

The shadows on the walls shifted as the light changed. I decided that I was going to take up my father's advice and go for a walk later in the day and also go to my mom's shop to help out. There was no way I would just stay and lazy around while they catered for all my needs. Their love was my shield, but the question lingered in the cracks of my heart.

Has Drew already let us go? I don't know why it mattered because before I decided to tell him about the child, I had already made up my mind not to include him in our lives but now it felt like my world would not be complete without him.