Rain hammers the windshield as I grip the steering wheel, heart racing faster than the wipers can swipe. The ultrasound photo is folded in my pocket, damp from my trembling hand. I just saw him—Zachary—holding a little boy’s hand outside that café, laughing like a man at peace. My chest cracks open. Of course he has a child. Of course he never told me. Why would he want me and this baby now?

I hit the gas, tires screeching on wet asphalt. One wrong turn on the highway, one flash of headlights blinding me—and then nothing. Just silence, and the distant wail of sirens.

Ten months later, I’m sipping tea at Liam’s birthday grill when the door opens. He walks in, taller, harder, eyes locking onto mine like I’m a ghost he’s been chasing. 'Audrey,' he says, voice raw. 'We need to talk about why you really left.'

My fingers tighten around my mug. Does he know about the baby? Does he think it died? Or worse—does he not care?