CHAPTER THREE

Jamal’s POV

The phone felt like a live wire in my hand. I stared at Lily’s message until the letters blurred into meaningless shapes. I missed my period.

Those four words carried the weight of a death sentence. I hadn’t even finished grieving the child Kassy and I just lost—the child whose absence had left a hollowed-out crater in Kassy’s soul—and now, the universe was playing a sick, twisted joke on all of us.

I met Lily at a small park three towns over, far enough away that we wouldn’t run into anyone who knew the "perfect" Kassy and her "devoted" fiancé.

When I saw her, the guilt hit me so hard I felt nauseous. She looked pale, her eyes darting around nervously. This was Kassy’s sister. My future sister-in-law. A woman I should have protected, not someone I should have shared a bed with in a moment of weak, grief-stricken madness.

“Tell me you’re sure,” I said, my voice barely a whisper as I sat on the bench beside her.

“I’m sure, Jamal.” Lily’s voice was flat, devoid of the playfulness she usually carried. She handed me a plastic stick she’d wrapped in a paper towel. Two pink lines. Bold. Unapologetic.

“We have to…” I swallowed hard, the word abortion tasting like ash in my mouth. I didn’t want to say it, but what choice did we have? “We have to handle this. Quietly. I’ll pay for everything. I’ll find a clinic where—”

“No.”

The word was sharp. Final.

“Lily, listen to me,” I pleaded, leaning in. “Kassy just lost our baby. If she finds out that you’re carrying mine—while she’s still bleeding, while she’s still crying herself to sleep—it will kill her. It won’t just break her heart; it will destroy her entire world.”

Lily turned to me, and for the first time, I saw genuine terror in her eyes. “I can’t, Jamal. I literally can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because this isn’t the first time!” she hissed, her voice cracking. “I’ve had… I’ve had others. Three of them. My doctor told me the last time that my uterine lining is dangerously thin. She said if I terminated again, I might never conceive again. Or worse, I could hemorrhage. My womb is weak, Jamal. If I get rid of this baby, I might be giving up my only chance to ever be a mother.”

I buried my face in my hands. The layers of the lie were piling up so high I couldn’t see the sun anymore.

“So what are we supposed to do?” I asked the pavement. “You want to keep it? You want to bring a child into this world that is living proof that I betrayed the woman I’m supposed to marry? Every time Kassy looks at her niece or nephew, she’ll be looking at my mistake.”

“She won’t know,” Lily said quickly.

I looked up, frowning. “How? You’re going to start showing in a few months. People can do math, Lily.”

“Ethan,” she whispered.

The name felt like a bucket of ice water. Ethan. Her boyfriend. I’d met him a few times—a kind, soft-spoken guy with a bright future. He was a pastor’s son, the kind of man who actually lived by the values everyone else just talked about.

“What about Ethan?”

“He’s been waiting,” Lily said, her fingers twisting together. “He told me from day one—no sex until marriage. He wants to do everything 'the right way.' He’s been patient. He’s been a gentleman.”

I felt a surge of pity for a man I barely knew. “And?”

“And I’m going to tell him I can’t wait anymore,” she said, her plan tumbling out with a desperate, clinical coldness. “I’m going to tell him I’ve had a change of heart. I’ll convince him to marry me. Next month. We’ll do a quick ceremony, something small. Then, a few weeks later, I’ll tell him I’m pregnant. He’ll think it happened on our wedding night. He’ll think he’s the father.”

I stared at her, horrified. “You’re going to pin this on him? You’re going to let that man raise my child thinking it’s his? You’re going to lie to a pastor’s son for the rest of his life?”

“Do you have a better idea?” she snapped, tears finally spilling over. “I love Kassy! I don’t want to destroy her engagement. I don’t want her to know what we did. This way, she keeps her fiancé, I keep my ability to have children, and Ethan gets a family. Everyone stays happy because everyone stays in the dark.”

Everyone stays in the dark.

The irony was a physical weight in my chest. I thought about Kassy’s father, Greg. I thought about the way he looked at me that night—with a hatred so deep it felt ancient. I thought about the secret he was clearly keeping. And now, Lily and I were building a skyscraper of lies on top of a foundation that was already crumbling.

“You’re okay with this?” I asked. “Living that lie every day? Looking at Ethan across the dinner table knowing he’s a cover-up?”

“I have to be,” Lily said, wiping her face. “For Kassy. For the baby. And for you, Jamal. You’re the one who has the most to lose here. You’re the one who wants to be the 'good guy' who stays with the grieving fiancée. I’m giving you that. Just don't get in my way.”

She stood up, smoothing her skirt. She looked like the same Lily I’d known for years, but she felt like a stranger.

“Don’t call me,” she said. “I’ll handle Ethan. You just focus on Kassy. Be the man she thinks you are.”

She walked away, leaving me alone on the bench.

I looked at my hands. They were shaking. I was a coward. I knew I should stop her. I knew I should go to Kassy, get down on my knees, and tell her the truth.

But I didn't move.

I thought about Kassy’s smile. I thought about how she looked at me like I was her anchor. If I told the truth, the anchor wouldn't just drop; it would drag her to the bottom of the ocean.

I stayed on the bench until the sun went down, realizing that Lily was right. We weren't just protecting ourselves anymore. We were protecting a version of reality that didn't exist.

I got into my car and drove to Kassy’s. When I walked through the door, she was sitting on the sofa, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, looking small and fragile.

“Hey,” she said, her voice weak but warm. “Where have you been?”

“Just out for a drive,” I lied, the words sliding out with terrifying ease. “Needed some air.”

I sat next to her and pulled her into my arms. She leaned her head on my chest, right over my heart. I wondered if she could hear it—the frantic, rhythmic thumping of a man who was drowning in a sea of his own making.

“I love you, Jamal,” she whispered.

“I love you too,” I said.

And for the first time in my life, I realized that love wasn't enough to save anyone. Not when the truth was a monster waiting just outside the door.