Chương 2
“Don’t.”
The room became completely silent.
I looked at Patricia.
“What am I missing?”
She swallowed.
“I thought you knew.”
“Knew what?”
My mother closed her eyes.
“Patricia.”
“No.”
My aunt shook her head.
“You should have told him.”
My hands went cold.
“Told me what?”
Patricia looked at me.
“About the pregnancy.”
The coffee cup slipped slightly in my hand.
“What pregnancy?”
My mother immediately stood.
“There was no reason to bring this up now.”
“No reason?” Patricia repeated.
“Ethan is her ex-husband.”
“Not anymore.”
“That doesn’t erase what happened.”
My voice came out quieter than I expected.
“Mom.”
She looked at me.
“Was Samantha pregnant?”
The silence answered before she did.
Five years disappeared in a single second.
The apartment in Vancouver.
The empty nights.
The messages I never returned.
The anger I carried toward Samantha.
Everything shifted.
Finally, my mother whispered, “Yes.”
I stared at her.
“Why didn’t I know?”
My mother looked away.
“Because I made sure you didn’t.”
I felt like the room had tilted.
“You made sure?”
“You were destroyed after the divorce.”
“I was her husband.”
“You were leaving.”
“I was leaving because I thought our marriage was over.”
“And I thought you needed a chance to start again.”
I laughed once, but there was no humor in it.
“You thought you had the right to decide whether I became a father?”
My mother’s face hardened.
“We didn’t know if the child was yours.”
The sentence hurt more than I expected.
Not because of the accusation.
Because I suddenly remembered every time Samantha had stood alone during our marriage.
Every dinner where my mother questioned her.
Every comment about children.
Every moment Samantha looked at me for support and I chose silence because silence was easier.
I had called it keeping peace.
Maybe it was just cowardice.
“Did she try to contact me?”
My mother did not answer.
That was answer enough.
“Did she?”
“She sent letters.”
“Where are they?”
Again, silence.
Then the front door opened.
Chloe walked in carrying a paper bag from the bakery near my mother’s house.
She stopped when she saw our faces.
Nobody spoke.
I looked at her.
“Chloe.”
She slowly set the bag on the counter.
“What?”
My throat felt dry.
“Did you know Samantha was pregnant?”
Her face changed.
Not confusion.
Not surprise.
Fear.
And that was when I knew the truth was much larger than a secret my mother had buried.
Chloe’s face changed.
Not confusion.
Not surprise.
Fear.
And that was when I knew the truth was much larger than a secret my mother had buried.
She slowly pulled out a chair and sat down without taking off her coat.
The paper bag from the bakery remained untouched on the counter between us.
“What did you know?” I asked.
Chloe looked at my mother first.
That small movement told me more than any answer could have.
“Ethan,” she whispered.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Say my name like you’re trying to prepare me for something.”
Her lips parted, but no words came out.
My mother stepped forward.
“This is not Chloe’s fault.”
I turned toward her.
“That sentence usually means someone is about to tell me exactly why it is their fault.”
“Ethan.”
“No.”
My voice surprised even me.
“I spent five years believing I left because Samantha and I failed.”
Nobody moved.
“I spent five years thinking I walked away from a marriage that was already dead.”
I looked at Chloe.
“But apparently everyone around me knew there was something else.”
Chloe lowered her eyes.
“I didn’t know everything.”
The word everything landed harder than I expected.
“Then tell me what you knew.”
She rubbed her hands together nervously.
“I knew she was pregnant.”
The room became silent again.
This time, nobody could pretend they misunderstood.
I looked at my mother.
Then at Chloe.
Then back at my mother.
“How long?”
Chloe swallowed.
“I found out three years ago.”
The anger that rose inside me was so sudden it almost felt physical.
“Three years?”
“Ethan, please listen.”
“No.”
I stepped away from the table.
“You knew for three years that my ex-wife had a child?”
“I knew she had been pregnant.”
“That is not what I asked.”
Chloe’s eyes filled with tears, but she did not cry.
She had always been controlled like that.
Even when we argued, she rarely raised her voice.
“I didn’t know if the baby was born.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“She told me she had a child, but she didn’t tell me where you were or whether you knew.”
“How did you even talk to her?”
Chloe looked at my mother.
That answer hurt before she spoke.
“Your mother introduced us.”
I felt something inside me go completely still.
“My mother introduced you to Samantha?”
“No.”
My mother shook her head quickly.
“Not like that.”
“Then explain.”
My mother sat down.
For the first time since I walked into the house, she looked old.
Not weak.
Not innocent.
Just tired.
“I called Samantha after you left.”
I stared at her.
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to know if she was telling the truth.”
The words made my stomach turn.
“You investigated her?”
“I was scared.”
“You were suspicious.”
“Yes.”
The honesty stopped me.
My mother looked down at the table.
“I was wrong.”
It was the first time she had said those words.
Not an excuse.
Not a defense.
Just wrong.
But it did not erase anything.
“What did she tell you?”
My mother took a slow breath.
“She told me she was pregnant with your child.”
“And?”
“And she wanted to know if you would come back.”
I laughed quietly.
A painful sound escaped before I could stop it.
“So what did you tell her?”
My mother looked away.
“I told her you had moved on.”
I felt my hands tighten.
“That wasn’t your decision.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
My voice cracked.
“If you knew, you wouldn’t have done it.”
Chloe stood.
May you like
“Ethan.”
I turned toward her.
