Brook
The sound of Tyson's truck pulling out of the driveway felt like a physical blow. I
stood frozen in the kitchen, one hand pressed against my swollen belly where Sofia
was doing somersaults, the other gripping the counter so hard my knuckles had
gone white. He left. He actually left. "Mommy?" Preston's small voice shattered
what little composure I had left. I turned to see him standing in the doorway, his
bottom lip trembling, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Where did Daddy go? Why
was he mad?" Oh God. My baby. Our baby. I forced my legs to move, crossing the
kitchen to kneel down—as much as a seven-months-pregnant woman could
kneel—and pull Preston into my arms. He buried his face against my shoulder, his
little body shaking with sobs. "Daddy just... he needed to go somewhere for a little
while, sweetheart." The words tasted like ash in my mouth. How did you explain
this to a four-year-old? How did you tell your son that his father had just accused
you of the worst betrayal imaginable? "But he didn't say goodnight! He always says
goodnight!" Preston's wail cut straight through my heart.
"I know, baby. I know." I held him tighter, rocking him gently, breathing in the
scent of his strawberry shampoo and trying desperately not to fall apart. Not yet.
Not in front of him. It took twenty minutes to calm him down enough to get him
upstairs. He clung to me the entire way, and I had to bite my lip against the pain in
my back from carrying his weight while Sofia pressed against my ribs. Everything
hurt . Everything. "Can I sle ep in your bed tonight?" Preston asked as I helped him
into his pajamas, his voice still hitching with leftover sobs. "Not tonight, sweetie.
But I'll stay with you until you fall asle ep, okay?" I read him three stories, my voice
somehow steady even though my hands were shaking. I stroked his hair and sang
the lullaby my mother used to sing to me, the one about the mockingbird and the
diamond ring. Preston's eyes finally drifted closed, his breathing evening out, one
small hand still clutching my finger. The moment I was sure he was asle ep, I
carefully extracted myself and stumbled into the hallway. That's when I shattered. I
made it to my bedroom—our bedroom—before the sobs took over. I collapsed onto
the bed, burying my face in Tyson's pillow, and let five years of love and trust and
partnership crack wide open. My whole body shook with the force of it, tears
soaking into the pillowcase that still smelled like his cologne. How could he? How
could he just believe her? After everything, after all these years, one fake piece of
paper and he walked out without even listening to me. Sofia kicked hard, as if she
could sense my distress, and I wrapped both arms around my belly. "I'm sorry, baby
girl," I whispered. "I'm so
sorry." I don't know how long I cried before I managed to grab my phone with
trembling hands. I scrolled through my contacts, my vision blurred, and pressed
Lake's name. She answered on the second ring. "Hey, what's—Brook? What's
wrong?" "He left." The words came out broken, barely intelligible. "Tyson left. He
thinks—he thinks Preston isn't his." "What? Brook, what are you talking about?
We're coming over right now." "Lake—" "We're already getting in the car. Hold on,
honey. Just hold on." They lived fifteen minutes away. It felt like hours. I sat on the
edge of the bed, arms wrapped around myself, trying to breathe through the panic
clawing at my chest. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be real. But it was.
The empty driveway outside proved it was real. Lake burst through the front door
like a hurricane, Fisher close behind her. My sister took one look at me and pulled
me into her arms, and I started crying all over again. "Tell me everything," she said
once we were settled on the couch, Fisher hovering protectively nearby. "Start from
the beginning." So I did. I told them about Celeste showing up yesterday, about the
blackmail, the ten thousand dollars, the threat. I told them how I'd been terrified all
day, how I'd almost called Tyson a dozen times but convinced myself Celeste was
bluffing.
"That little bitch," Lake hissed. "She actually did it. She actually went through with
it." "She gave him a fake DNA test," I said, my voice hollow. "She must have. And he
believed it. He believed her over me." "Where is he?" Fisher asked, his jaw tight.
"I'll go talk to him." "No." I shook my head. "He made his choice. He looked at me—
looked at me, the woman he's been with for seven years, married to for five—and he
chose to believe I would do that to him. That I would lie about our son." "Brook—" "I
have never given him a reason to doubt me. Not once. Not in all these years." The
anger was rising now, hot and sharp beneath the devastation. "I have been faithful
and loving and I've built this life with him. I'm seven months pregnant with his
daughter, and he walked out. He didn't even give me a chance to defend myself. He
just... left." Lake's eyes were blazing. "I'm going to kill him. I'm going to actually kill
him." "Get in line," Fisher muttered. I pressed my hands against my face, trying to
hold back another wave of tears. "How could he think I would do that? How could
he think I would cheat on him and then lie about Preston for four years? What kind
of person does he think I am?" "He's not thinking," Lake said fiercely. "He's being
an idiot. But Brook, you know the truth. Preston is his son. This DNA test is fake,
and we're going to prove it." "I know that. But the fact that he didn't..." My voice
broke. "The fact that he didn't know it, that he could believe even for a second that I
would betray him like that... I don't know if I can forgive that."
Lake squeezed my hand. "You don't have to decide anything right now. Right now,
you just need to breathe. We're staying here tonight." I nodded, but inside,
something had shifted. Beneath the heartbreak, beneath the devastation, there was
a core of steel forming. Tyson had made his choice when he walked out that door.
Now I would make mine.