Chapter 1:That better be gossip

Sera’s POV

“Shh, baby.” I rock my wailing son in my arms, my own tears threatening to fall from my eyes.

His cry is piercing, and doesn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon. He’s been crying all morning, and I don’t know why.

“Sweetheart,” I murmur in his ears. “Tell mommy what’s wrong. Are you hurting?”

Ezra’s response is a louder cry. Tears trickle down my own cheeks, and I swipe it angrily.

“You’re okay, sweetheart. You’re okay.” I don’t know if I’m telling myself or I’m telling him.

A knock on my door sounds, and I’m glad to see Owen walk through. He takes one look at both of us with tears falling from our eyes, and he laughs.

“When you told me there was an emergency, I didn’t know it was two!” 

I roll my eyes and shove Ezra into Owen’s arms. He immediately stops crying, and my jaw drops.

I sniffle. “He hates me, doesn’t he?”

“Of course not, Sera,” Owen replies. “You’re both having a bad day.”

“What does he know about bad days? He’s only four.”

Owen grins. “I used to have bad days even in the womb…at least that’s what my mom used to say.”

Ezra hiccups, whimpering in the crook of Owen’s neck. 

“Go take a shower, Sera. You look horrible.”

I grimace. “Way to make a girl feel special.”

He raises a brow.

“I can’t, though,” I explain. “I have to submit this article to Wendy before six p.m. today.”

“Damn,” he whistles, glancing at the digital clock on my desk. “It’s already past three. Have you even started?”

“No,” I say. “I tried but Ezra kept crying. I gave him food, he said he wasn’t hurting anywhere. His temperature is fine, he...”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Owen cuts in. “He’s fine now, look.”

Sure enough, Ezra’s playing with the collar of Owen’s shirt, little hiccups leave his lips. 

I run a hand through his thick dark hair. “Hi baby.”

His grip tightens on Ezra’s shirt and I sigh, taking a step back.

“Thank you, Owen,” I breathe. “Thank you for always coming when I need you. Now, I’m just going to work on this in my room.”

I pick up my laptop and soda.

Owen waves at me. “We’ll be here.”

It’s a huge relief to be left alone for a bit.  My reflection catches in the mirror when I step into my room, and my jaw drops in horror.

Blood-shot eyes, brown hair up in a tangled mess, and cheeks flushed. I look like I went through hell… and was spat out.

My clothes are strewn across the room, the sheets in a pool on the floor. The relief disappears, and I swallow the lump in my throat.

Don’t cry, Sera. Not again.

I place my laptop on the desk and stare at the blank page, fingers hovering. 

Nothing comes to my mind. No word, no topic… nothing. I’m just blank.

Working as a junior copywriter for Q’s magazine has been tasking. I’m grateful for the job, and like all writers, waiting for my big break.

But as I stare at the blank document, tears burn at the back of my eyes, and that big break seems wayyy out of reach.

I rest my head on the desk, and I sob. Ezra’s giggle filters into the room, and I only cry harder. 

I’m so tired, drained. I really am.

***

Owen’s loud gasp drags my eyes away from my screen. 

“That better be gossip,” I say.

After crying, I had decided to take a much needed shower, and do a little cleaning.

I felt better almost immediately. My thoughts are now finally free to roam, and I’m slowly rounding up on my article.

“Sera, you need to see this.”

“I’m coming,” I tell him. “Let me just send this to Wendy.”

My hands fly over the keyboard, eyes scanning the contents like a hawk. 

In few more sentences, I conclude with a full-stop, and I smile, sending the document to Wendy, my boss’s email.

Fingers crossed, I hope she likes it.

With a groan, I pop my fingers and head over to Owen. Ezra’s playing in his play pen, finally happy.

“What’s up?” I plop down beside him.

Owen scrolls on his phone. “Someone on our team got a verified information.”

I wait for more, but he doesn’t speak.

“Well,” I press my lips together. “Are you going to tell me what the information is?”

He chuckles. “Hold on, I want to show it to you. Remember the rumor we heard?”

“We work in a PR firm, Owen. We’ve heard a lot of rumors.” I roll my eyes.

“Oh hush,” he glares playfully. “The Adrian Cross rumor. He’s proposing to his mystery lady.”

My heart drops. “W-what? Wh-who’s the lady?”

“No one knows. At least not until Saturday.”

That’s two days from now.

The frantic thump of my pulse pound in my ears, blood rushing through my veins. 

“He’s getting engaged?” I whisper, throat thickening.

“You’ve gone pale, like you’ve seen a ghost.”  Owen frowns at me, brows pinched together. “Are you okay?”

My head bobs. “C-can I see it?”

He hands me his phone, and sure enough on our office platform, the information is there, supplied by one of our fact-checkers.

“Adrian Cross is set to propose to his mystery woman on Saturday. The rumors have been confirmed that this engagement will be a private announcement, and is set to happen in New York City.”

“Wow,” I breathe, speechless.

It’s taking a lot to keep my tears at bay, my lips wobble and I bite down on it.

“It’s crazy, isn’t it?” Owen says. “All the ladies who are obsessed with him will definitely be sad.”

Crazy…that’s definitely one word to describe it.

My lungs squeeze tight in my chest, and I bite on my lip harder until I can’t hold the tears anymore. They fall like waterworks, streaming down my cheeks.

He’s getting engaged. He’s proposing to someone else.

What did I expect? Why do I even feel so much hurt?

It’s been four years. Four years no contact.

“Sera, Jesus.” Owen blinks at me. “You’re crying.”

I hiccup, swiping my cheeks but the tears don’t stop.

Owen pulls me into a hug, and I sob like a baby while he shushes me.

“What’s going on, love?” He asks.

“I-I…”

“Talk to me, what’s wrong? Are you upset that he’s getting engaged?”

“It’s not that,” I croak.

“Then, what is it?”

“Mommy!” Ezra squeals, climbing out of his play pen. 

Familiar green eyes stare up at me, lips pouting. He climbs up my legs, settling in my lap.

“Don’t cry, mommy.” He climbs up my legs, settling in my lap. His chubby hands wipe my cheeks.

“Thank you, baby.” I kiss his head.

Owen smiles at him, then turns to me with raised brows. “What’s going on?”

“Adrian Cross…” I gulp, sniffling. “He’s Ezra’s father.”

His mouth falls open, eyes wide. “You’re kidding!”

Before I can delve into the tragedies of my past relationship, my phone rings.

“It’s…” I frown at Owen, “Wendy. Why is she calling? Did she read my article already? Is she…”

Owen holds my hand. “Pick up the phone, Sera.”

“O-okay.” A shaky breath leaves my lungs.

“Hello, Wendy.”

“Sera! Glad I could reach you,” she says. “I need you to publish the article on Mr. Cross’ engagement. Is that going to be a problem?”

Will writing about my ex boyfriend, and the father of my son’s private engagement be a problem? 

Very much.

I clear my throat. “Not at all, I—”

“Great! Send it in tonight. It’ll be released by seven a.m tomorrow morning.”

The line goes dead.