“Elena, one more thing.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“Ryan has already asked the clinic for a paternity test.”
The words settled quietly inside me.
Not like thunder.
Like a door closing somewhere far away.
“For Ashley’s baby?” I asked.
“Yes. But I suspect he’ll ask about Noah and Lily next.”
I looked at my children.
Noah, careful and sensitive, always trying to read the room before he entered
it.
Lily, bright and tender, still believing flowers looked prettier when colored purple instead of pink.
They were not evidence.
They were not claims.
They were not extensions of Ryan’s pride.
They were mine in every way that mattered.
“Let him ask,” I said quietly.
Then I ended the call.
The flight to Miami was smooth.
That almost felt unfair.
I had expected turbulence because my life had become turbulence. But above the clouds, the world was impossibly calm. Sunlight poured across the seats. Lily fell asleep with her head in my lap. Noah watched the clouds as if they held answers.
