Chapter 7: After the Truth

Aria’s POV

“We are here?” I heard a voice say.

It wasn’t Mark’s.

It wasn’t my mum’s either.

My eyes drifted from one blurred face to another, confusion weighing heavily behind my temples. Then the voice came again, firmer this time, pulling me back.

“Ma’am, we are here.”

The world sharpened all at once. The low hum of an engine faded, replaced by the quiet stillness of a parked car. My fingers were clenched tightly around the strap of my bag, my knuckles pale.

I blinked.

I was in the back seat of a taxi.

Oh.

It had all been in my head.

I must have drifted off, my mind replaying an imagined future, one where my family discovered the truth about Hailey’s paternity and tore me apart for it. The weight of it still sat heavily on my chest, as though it had actually happened.

“Sorry,” I murmured, fumbling for my purse. I paid the driver quickly and stepped out, the cool air brushing against my face like a quiet reprimand.

The house loomed ahead of me, familiar yet suddenly foreign. I hadn’t even reached the sitting room before I collided with Elliot.

I halted abruptly. “Elliot?”

He was already halfway out of his jacket, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up. It was a Tuesday, and he should have been at work.

“How was your job hunting?” he asked casually.

“It was okay,” I replied, forcing steadiness into my voice. “I found a few… none that I like.”

I bent to change my shoes, sliding my feet into a pair of soft house slippers from the door closet. I hung my jacket neatly, the motions automatic, as though routine might keep me grounded.

“Hm.” Elliot studied me for a moment. “There’s a vacancy at one of the branches. If you make up your mind, let me know, and I’ll fill you in.” He paused, then added, quieter, “Whatever Daddy thought of you, he’s no longer here. Don’t let it stop you from living your life.”

“I’ll see you after work,” he called over his shoulder as he headed out.

Before the door shut, Mum responded with a distracted, “Drive safely.”

I remained rooted to the spot long after Elliot left. Not because of his words, they echoed faintly, but they weren’t what held me frozen.

The envelope.

The DNA results sat in my bag like a live wire.

“Aria.”

I looked up to find Mum standing at the entrance to the living room, her brow creased with concern.

“Why are you standing there looking so troubled?”

I stared at her, really stared. The worry in her eyes was genuine. And yet, experience had taught me caution. I didn’t yet have the full picture, and I had learned, painfully, that support often came first, judgment later, once new evidence surfaced.

They always stood by me at the beginning.

And then, somehow, they didn’t.

“It’s nothing,” I said lightly. “Just the stress of finding a new job.”

“Then accept Elliot’s offer,” she said gently. “Work in one of your father’s companies.”

“I’ll think about it. If I don’t find anything by the end of the week, I’ll accept.”

She smiled, satisfied, and turned away.

Upstairs, I changed into something comfortable and went to Hailey’s room. She was sprawled on the floor, colouring, her tongue poking out in concentration. I sat beside her, watching the rise and fall of her chest, the familiar rhythm that had anchored my life for eight years.

What would I do if she weren’t mine?

The thought hollowed me out.

Could I give her up, knowing how fiercely I loved her? And if she wasn’t my child, where would I even begin to look for the one I had lost? And if she were mine, what would everyone think of me then?

I wanted the truth.

Even if it hurts.

The next day, I returned to the hospital and requested another DNA test, this time to confirm whether I was Hailey’s biological mother. The waiting period stretched endlessly, each hour dragging with merciless slowness.

When I finally went back for the results, my hands trembled as the envelope was placed in them. I tore it open without sitting down.

Black ink. Clear words.

Hailey was my biological daughter.

I was her mother.

Relief flooded me so violently that my knees nearly buckled. I pressed a hand to my chest, breathing through it. I wasn’t losing her.

But the relief was short-lived.

If Mark wasn’t her father… then who was?

The question echoed endlessly, unanswered.

My phone buzzed.

Mark.

I hesitated before answering.

“Aria,” he said the moment the call connected, panic sharp in his voice. “I just got home from my trip. We’ve been robbed. Where are you? They took everything, everything. The house is empty.”

I said nothing.

“Aria? Can you hear me?” he pressed. “I said we’ve been robbed.”

“I heard you,” I replied flatly.

“So what are we going to do?” he asked.

We.

As though he would shoulder any of the burden.

“You know my job doesn’t earn me much,” he added quickly.

Something snapped.

"There was no robbery. I moved out on my own. I just didn’t want to live with trash!"

"What-"

I ended the call without another word.

Anger propelled me forward as I turned sharply, straight into someone solid.

I am glad I finally ended this relationship with my own hands. Now it’s time for me to clear my head and start a new life.