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Anger bites at my throat. How is he being so… stubborn right now? “Thorne. I’m pregnant. With your baby,” I say.
Putting the words into the world feels…
I sit down.
It makes everything feel more real.
“You can’t be pregnant with my baby, Iris. Stop lying to me,” he growls.
I look over at him.
He’s angry.
Like, really angry.
It changes his face. Thorne has sculpted cheekbones and harsh angles, but right now, they’re more than just harsh.
They’re severe.
“I’m not lying to you,” I whisper. The familiar feeling of rejection, of feeling like I’m trying to say something that no one understands, is rising up. The anger slowly fades, leaving the anxiety and frustration in its wake.
“Stop. Lying,” Thorne snaps.
“Thorne. I’m not lying. This is your baby. This is…”
“No. Iris. It isn’t.”
His words are sharp, and I flinch.
“Don’t lie to me. Don’t ever fucking lie to me,” he growls.
“I’m not.”
He stands, abruptly. He looks down at the tests.
“Don’t call me. Don’t ever talk to me again. Good luck, Iris. I hope whoever the father is, he’s a good one.”
Then, he leaves.
For a while, I sit in shock.
I can’t believe what just happened. My mind keeps going through it, over and over again, completely unable to process it.
Thorne thinks I’m lying.
He thinks the baby isn’t his.
Thorne thinks I’m lying.
He’s gone.
He’s gone.
That’s what hits me the hardest. Tears, finally, fill my eyes. I gasp as a choking sob rises in my chest.
Then, I cry.
I can’t help it.
