(Henry's POV – Present Day)
I stare at the eviction notice in my hand like maybe if I crumple it, it'll go away.
Fifth month in a row I've been late. The rent grace period's gone. Trina's "friends" stopped lending us money. And I haven't heard from my parents in two weeks—not since they found out about Angelique.
Not since I sat through a brutal video call while they asked me, "How long were you planning to keep your own child a secret?"
I had no answer. Still don't.
The apartment is cold. Half-packed boxes sit in the corner, though I have no idea where I'm even moving to. Trina's in the shower, humming off-key to some pop song she probably played for Paul last night when she thought I wasn't listening.
I don't know why I picked up her phone.313Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgLcDsahHhh
Maybe because she laughed a little too hard when his name popped up.313Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1ZQo2Bqedm
Maybe because I already knew and just needed proof.
And there it was.313Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqKrQ24N9B6
Buried under heart emojis and pet names.
"You leaving him soon?"313Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYZVBJ8nbDg
"Just a few more days, baby. He's basically useless now anyway."
Useless.
That word echoes in my ears like a taunt.
Paul Medrano. My best friend since grade school. The guy who taught me how to cheat on tests and charm professors. The same guy who watched me walk away from Samantha and said nothing.
Maybe that was the real betrayal.313Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡp9G52W0Pbe
Not Trina's affair—but the silence of someone who knew better and watched me self-destruct for sport.
I sit on the edge of the bed and try to swallow the lump in my throat.
I think of Samantha.313Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfYAYRErp04
Of the night I told her she was "blowing things out of proportion."313Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnDQ6BGEtZD
Of how I called our baby a "situation."
God.
I called our daughter a situation.
I think of her now. Angelique.313Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0yFh5JQLWj
I've never met her, never held her hand, never heard her laugh.
My daughter probably doesn't even know I exist.
And maybe... maybe that's for the best.
The bathroom door creaks open. Trina steps out in one of my shirts—mine, but somehow hers now.
I look up at her, and for the first time, I really see her.
Not the sexy, exciting upgrade I once thought she was.313Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGkpWYWSAMy
Just a girl who knew how to win by pretending I was a prize.
"You knew, didn't you?" I ask, voice hoarse. "You were with him while you were with me."
She doesn't even flinch. "Why are you acting surprised? You cheated first."
"I didn't know what I was losing then."
"Well," she says, applying lip gloss in the hallway mirror, "that sounds like a you problem."
And just like that, she walks out.
No tears. No apology.313Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ36YB2L11m3
Just the sound of her heels fading down the hallway.
I sit there for a long time.
Alone.
Finally understanding what Samantha must've felt that night I didn't show up.313Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡf7OKYaZed9
When I left her pregnant, afraid, and unheard.
Only difference is... she built a life from her ruin.
Me?
I just watched mine rot.
313Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAiz5XHY3LU
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