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CHAPTER HUNDRED AND FIFTEEN
Last Updated:
2025-10-20 19:39:30
Latest chapter
The Fathers of My Child? CHAPTER HUNDRED AND THIRTY-EIGHT
#Dorothy’s POV#I can still hear the bottle crash against the curb. The sound keeps echoing in my head like it’s stuck there, playing over and over again even though we left the scene long ago.The car is too quiet, but somehow still too loud. The driver, in a bid to soothe whatever he assumes is a ‘bad moment’ between husband and wife, turns on the radio. Some dusty blues track crackles out from the speakers. The bass is soft, the vocals whiny, and the guitar sounds like it's weeping. He probably thinks it’s romantic. Or safe.It isn’t.I stare out the window.I feel Joel watching me. I feel him like a stare I didn’t ask for, like pressure building behind glass. But I don’t move. I don’t turn. I don’t talk.Once again…Once again, I was talked about like a prize at the center of a boxing ring. Like I’m some prize being shoved back and forth.Once again, I was embarrassed in public.Once again, my name was ripped out of my mouth and held by two men who seem to think they get to define
The Fathers of My Child? CHAPTER HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SEVEN
#Rico’s POV#It’s the bottle that burns first. Then my throat. Then my chest.I’m not even sure when it all tipped over.Maybe it was last week, when my financial advisor told me to “get ready to go back to Atlanta soon, there’s nothing else left for you here.”Maybe it was the silence after that. Or the fact that I haven’t had a proper meal in two days. Or that I still have no place to call mine. Not really.I came to the mall this afternoon to buy cigarettes. And maybe some random shit for the apartment Victor dumped me in. Toothpaste. Shampoo. I don’t know. The kind of things that make you feel human even when your life’s loosing apart like a damn threadbare coat.Truth is, I’m just waiting. Waiting for someone to say “That’s it, Rico. Your job here is done. Go home.”But they won’t.Because Joel wants to be sure. Wants proof. Wants to wait until Dorothy births the baby—my baby—just so he can be absolutely certain I was good for one thing before they cut me out completely.I feel i
The Fathers of My Child? CHAPTER HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SIX
#Dorothy’s POV#I cross one leg over the other and bite down gently on my bottom lip, barely blinking at the soft whirr of the wall clock as it ticks. My fingers tap slowly against the leather seat in the waiting area. The morning air is cool inside the clinic, scented lightly with disinfectant and cherry-something. But it doesn’t calm me.I’ve been sitting here for almost twenty minutes while Dr. Malik finishes up with another patient, but I don’t mind waiting. Honestly, I need the time to think. Or overthink.Last night won’t leave my head. My skin still remembers his hands, how soft and unsure they were. My mind won’t stop replaying every moment. Every breath. Every slow, trembling touch. The way he looked at me like I was something more than a patient, more than a mistake he once tried to erase.I still can’t believe it.Joel, of all people, was the one who worshipped me last night.The same man who used to treat my body like a negotiation clause. Like a contract waiting to be ful
The Fathers of My Child? CHAPTER HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FIVE
#Joel’s POV#I wake up on the bed in the master bedroom. Alone.The sun is bleeding through the long cream drapes, and the air smells like the body oil Dorothy uses. My neck aches a little from how I slept, but that’s not the first thing I notice. It’s the blanket. The warm, soft blanket covering me. Folded over my chest like she was careful not to wake me when she left.I run my hand over it. The fabric. The meaning.She tucked me in.I close my eyes, briefly, and just breathe. Last night happened. I didn’t dream it. It was real. It wasn’t loud or rushed like all the times I used to take from her without even knowing I was doing it. It was quiet and real; holding her felt like finally holding myself together too.But I don’t let myself spiral into hope yet. I don’t get ahead of myself. She left the bed before I woke. She didn’t say anything.Still. She covered me.And that means something.I sit up slowly, swing my legs down, rub my face. I’m tired but not exhausted. More like… heav
The Fathers of My Child? CHAPTER HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FOUR
#Dorothy’s POV#I drink a full glass of cold water but it doesn’t help. My chest still feels like it’s holding something I don’t know how to name. It's not grief, or longing. It's not even confusion. It's… everything. The kitchen is quiet. I place the glass back on the counter, press both palms into the marble. My body’s tired but my mind is running laps. I try to stand still and just breathe, but even that feels like a task.I turn toward the back entrance, and that’s when I hear a voice.It's muffled whispering.I freeze.It's the brunette maid, the one with the tight bun and baby voice. She’s near the pantry door, holding a phone to her ear. Her back is turned to me, but I catch a glimpse of her body language. She's nervous, fidgety.“Hello?” I say.She spins around, clearly startled, phone tumbling from her hand. Her eyes go wide, then her mouth forms into an innocent smile.“Madam. I… I was just…”She doesn't finish. Just picks up her phone and hurries past me toward the back do
The Fathers of My Child? CHAPTER HUNDRED AND THIRTY-THREE
#Joel’s POV#I didn't know I could feel relief and guilt this deep in the same breath. Not until last night.The nurse had come in, saw the clumps of hair on the floor and Dorothy's tired eyes, and asked, very carefully, if I could let her rest. But Dorothy shook her head, mumbled that I could stay. She didn’t even look at me when she said it, but she said it, and that was enough. I just nodded. No big movements or dramatics. I stayed… for her.Sat by her side and watched her chest rise and fall for what felt like hours.They offered to clean up my hands, to bandage them properly, to help with the bruises from punching the sink. I said I was fine. I wasn’t, but I didn’t care.I left that room early this morning, got my hands tended to properly by one of the attending nurses, took some painkillers, brushed my teeth, then looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize myself.And then I came back to her.She was still asleep. Hair gone. Head smooth, soft-looking, fragile.She didn’t know I w
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