Chapter 17: Whispers and Public Confrontation

The café was too bright, too loud. I had chosen the corner table, my back against the wall, but even that couldn’t shield me from the eyes.

The women at the counter — wives of Gabriel’s colleagues, women I had once smiled at during charity galas — turned their heads together, whispering behind manicured hands. Their laughter wasn’t cruel on the surface, but the way their eyes flicked to me, then away, made my skin crawl.

I stirred my coffee though I hadn’t tasted a sip. My phone lay face-down on the table, buzzing every few minutes with notifications. I didn’t have to look. I already knew what they were: the posts. The comments.

Emily had made sure the world knew.

#Blessed, one caption had read, beneath a sonogram picture. The kind of post designed to look innocent. Except the tag — #FamilyFirst #BabyGrayson — made my stomach twist.

My friends had texted, cautious, pitying.

Is it true? Do you need anything?

Even my mother had called, voice tight with concern.

“Eve?”

I looked up, startled. Mrs. Alvarez — an old family friend, a woman who’d once adored I and Gabriel as the perfect couple — was standing at my table. My lips curved into a brittle smile.

“I just wanted to say…” Mrs. Alvarez hesitated, lowering her voice. “You’re very brave, my dear. I can’t imagine what it must feel like. To… endure this publicly.”

My throat closed. Brave. Endure. Words coated in sympathy but heavy with pity.

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, my voice sharper than I intended.

Mrs. Alvarez blinked, her smile faltering. “Of course, darling. Of course.”

When she left, the whispers rose again, like smoke curling under the door of a burning house.

My hands clenched around my cup. My reflection in the black surface of the coffee didn’t look like me anymore. I looked smaller. Cornered.

My phone buzzed again. I flipped it over, against my better judgment.

A message from an unknown number.

It’s true, isn’t it?

My pulse pounded. Another buzz — another message.

“Poor Eve. Left behind”.

My fingers went numb.

Emily wasn’t just feeding lies to Gabriel. She was feeding them to the world.

The walls were closing in. And if I didn’t fight back soon, I’d be crushed under the weight of a reputation Emily was carefully, gleefully dismantling.

I picked up my phone, scrolling to Sebastian’s name. My thumb hovered over it.

This was war. And war needed allies.

But before I could press call, the café door opened. A hush fell. Heads turned.

And my blood ran cold.

Emily walked in.

Not flustered. Not nervous. Radiant. Smiling. A silk dress skimming my figure, my hand resting on my stomach as though cradling something precious.

And every gaze in the room followed her like moths to flame.

Emily’s eyes found me immediately. Her smile widened.

And she walked straight toward me.

Emily’s heels clicked against the tile, each step deliberate, a performance. She didn’t even glance at the other patrons — though their eyes clung to her — only at me.

“Eve,” Emily said sweetly, her voice pitched just loud enough to carry. “What a surprise.”

I forced myself to stay seated, my nails digging into my palms under the table. “Emily.”

Emily placed a hand on the back of the opposite chair. “Mind if I join you?”

The café had gone quiet. The barista pretended to polish cups. A couple near the window leaned closer to listen. My skin burned with the awareness of every pair of eyes.

“I’d rather you didn’t,” I said.

Emily’s laugh was soft, practiced, carrying a note of pity. “Of course. Boundaries. I understand. You’re hurting.”

She pulled the chair out anyway and sat, her silk dress whispering as she crossed her legs. Her hand stayed on her stomach, her thumb rubbing slow circles like she was already soothing a child.

My voice came out low, sharp. “What do you want?”

Emily tilted her head, her hair sliding over her shoulder in a perfect wave. “To talk. Woman to woman.”

“About your lies?” I shot back.

The words cracked the silence. Someone at the next table coughed.

Emily’s smile didn’t falter. “It must be hard for you. Watching him slip away. Knowing the truth, even if you can’t admit it.” She leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping just enough to sound intimate — but still audible to the room. “Gabriel loves this baby. He always has. He told me—”

“Stop.” My chair scraped against the floor as I stood. My pulse hammered so loudly I thought the whole café could hear it. “Stop twisting everything. Stop pretending.”

Emily’s eyes widened, just a fraction, before she let her bottom lip tremble. She looked up at me, all wounded innocence.

“Pretending?” she repeated, her voice breaking, perfectly timed. “Eve, I know you’re angry, but this isn’t about us anymore. It’s about the child. Can’t you see that?”

Gasps murmured around them. A woman whispered, “The poor thing.”

My throat locked. I wanted to shout, to scream that Emily was lying, but the weight of the stares pressed me down.

Emily’s hand brushed her stomach again, a subtle gesture of possession, of victory. “I only wish,” she said softly, “that you could accept reality. For Gabriel’s sake.”

The café door opened, the bell jingling. I barely noticed — until I did.

My heart plummeted.

Gabriel.

He froze when he saw them, his eyes sweeping the room before locking on me and Emily. The café hushed further, like the scene was a play, and the star had just walked on stage.

Emily rose slowly, one hand steady on her stomach, the other reaching toward him. Her voice softened, breaking just enough to sound fragile.

“Gabriel,” she whispered, perfectly loud enough for everyone to hear.

I stood rooted, my fury scorching through my veins, but my body betrayed me with stillness.

Because Emily wasn’t just staging a confrontation. She was staging a story. And everyone here was already believing it.

Gabriel’s eyes flicked between us — between my rigid stance and Emily’s trembling lips. Confusion. Pain.

And doubt.

My stomach twisted.

Emily leaned closer to Gabriel, my eyes shimmering like glass ready to shatter. “She… she hates me for carrying your child.”

My vision tunneled, a roar filling my ears.

The café erupted into whispers.

And Gabriel — Gabriel said nothing.