But she's already scanning the screen. I watch her expression shift from surprise to disgust to something I can't name.
"What does it say?"
Jade hands me the phone without a word.
MILA: I'm sorry about today. I was emotional and said things I didn't mean. You have to understand—I'm scared. Pregnant and alone. I should have been honest from the start. Can we talk again? Please?
I stare at the words until they blur.
“What is this shit?” I question, fear clawing up my throat like a condemned man trying to escape the flames of hell. I honestly don’t know what Mila is capable of, or if I’m strong enough to keep fighting her.
I have to be, though, for Jade.
"I know what she's doing." Jade takes the phone back, her jaw tight. "Delete or ignore?"
She’s asking me for my opinion, like it matters. Like we’re a team again. I could fucking weep. Instead, I roll my shoulders and tilt my head to look at my wife.
"Ignore. Don't engage. That's what she wants."
We go inside, and I make us both coffee. The house feels better when Jade is here with me, like she completes it. I guess she does.
I keep checking my phone, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Mila won’t leave us. This much I know; I just don’t knowwhy.Maybe Jade’s right and Mila is just nasty—look how she treated Jade way back. I wish I’d fucking known, I’d have put a stop to it somehow.
My poor girl. I can’t even begin to imagine how she feels—how she felt when she saw me in Mila’s room that Saturday morning. I close my eyes briefly and try to calm my racing heart.
I’m so sorry, Jade.
It takes forty-three minutes.
My phone lights up with an unknown number. I blocked Mila and the other number, but she's found another way.
UNKNOWN: We could have had it all.
I show Jade. Her lips thin into a hard line.
Another message arrives before I can respond.
UNKNOWN: You could have had everything that night, and you threw it away. For HER. What does she have that I don't? Other than rolls of fat, a double chin, and high cholesterol? Tell me. I deserve to know.
My hands shake with rage, but then another comes through.
UNKNOWN: You're ignoring me now? After everything? I'm carrying YOUR child and you can't even respond to a fucking text?
"Jesus Christ," I mutter, my hands trembling as I shove them through my hair. I can’t even begin to imagine how it would feel if someone like Mila was pregnant with your child. I shudder.
Jade reaches for my phone, and I let her take it. She scrolls through the messages, her face unreadable.
"She's losing it," Jade says. "This is—this is textbook harassment, Devon."
My phone buzzes again. And again. And again.
UNKNOWN: I know where you live.
UNKNOWN: I know where she works.
UNKNOWN: You think you can ignore me?
UNKNOWN: I’m carrying YOUR BABY.
