All Chapters of Puck, Passion, and Broken Promises: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

The truth of the accident still hangs in the air like smoke that won't clear.Ethan is still on his knees. His hands are still holding mine. His eyes are still wet. His face is still pale. His heart is still broken. His soul is still bleeding. His world is still spinning. His life is still unraveling. His hope is still flickering."I was pregnant," I say.He freezes. His whole body goes still. His breath catches. His heart stops. His world tilts. His life changes. His reality shifts. His eyes widen. His hands tremble."What? What did you say? What did you just say? Say it again. I need to hear it again. I need to make sure I heard you right. I need to be sure.""Before the accident. Before everything fell apart. Before I left. I was pregnant. I was going to tell you that night. I was going to tell you everything. I was going to give you the world."He stares at me. His face is white. His hands are shaking. His eyes are wide. His soul is shattered. His hope is dying. His heart is break

The room was silent after the storm inside me finally settled.I sat curled against the couch, my hands wrapped around a mug of tea that had long since gone cold. I couldn't bring myself to drink it.Ethan remained beside me.He hadn't let go of my hand.Not once.Neither of us spoke for several minutes.Some silences were louder than words."I keep thinking..." I whispered.He looked at me immediately."What?"I swallowed hard."If I had left work earlier... or later... if I'd taken another road... if I'd stopped for coffee...""Ava.""If I'd done anything differently, maybe none of this would've happened."He shook his head."No.""You don't know that.""I do."His voice was calm."It wasn't your fault."I laughed bitterly."I was the one behind the wheel.""And someone drove straight into you."My fingers tightened around the mug."I remember the impact."His jaw clenched."I remember hearing glass shatter."His breathing slowed."I remember screaming for the baby before I blacked

The words are still echoing in my skull.Your baby didn't die.They won't stop. They keep playing on a loop, over and over, like a broken record I can't turn off. Like a song I've been waiting my whole life to hear. Like a truth I never dared to hope for. Like a miracle I never believed could happen.I'm still staring at the phone. Still feeling the weight of everything she told me. Still processing the truth that just shattered and rebuilt my world in the span of a single phone call. Still trying to breathe. Still trying to believe.Ethan is holding me. His arms are tight. His heart is racing. His breath is warm on my hair. His body is shaking against mine. His tears are falling on my shoulder."Say it again," I whisper."What?""Tell me what she said. Tell me I didn't imagine it. I need to hear it again. I need to know it's real. I need to believe it. I need to feel it."He pulls back. Looks at me. His eyes are wet. His hands are shaking. His voice is raw, like he's been crying too.

The silence in Vanessa's living room is suffocating.It presses down on us like a physical weight, thick and heavy and impossible to escape. The clock on the wall ticks, each second a reminder of time slipping away, of our son growing older without us, of the life we're missing. The fridge hums in the kitchen. Outside, the wind rattles the windows like someone trying to get in. The whole world feels like it's closing in on us.Ethan stands by the window. His back is to us. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides. His shoulders are shaking. His whole body is vibrating with barely contained rage. I can see the tension in every line of his body, the way his jaw is clenched so tight I'm surprised his teeth don't crack. His breathing is heavy, uneven. The muscles in his back are coiled like springs."Ethan," I say softly.He doesn't answer. Doesn't acknowledge me at all. It's like he can't hear me. Like he's trapped inside his own head. Like he's drowning and doesn't want to be save

The morning is cold.Vanessa's kitchen is quiet. The coffee is bitter. The silence is heavy. Outside, the wind howls against the windows like it's trying to get in. Inside, the weight of everything presses down on us, making it hard to breathe.Ethan spreads papers across the table. Maps. Phone records. Notes. His hand is still bandaged, the white fabric stained with dried blood. He looks determined. Focused. Desperate. He hasn't slept. He hasn't eaten. He hasn't stopped."We start searching today," he says."Where? Where do we even begin?""The lawyer's house. His office. Everywhere he might be. Everywhere he could be hiding.""He's probably gone. He's probably already run.""Then we find where he went. We don't stop until we find him. We don't rest until we have answers."Vanessa sits across from me. Her face is pale. Her eyes are tired. She looks like she hasn't slept in days. Her hands are wrapped around her coffee mug like it's the only thing keeping her warm."I have contacts,"