My hands curl into fists at my sides. I want to grab her, shake her, and make her understand that every word out of her mouth is destroying any sympathy I might have had.
But I don't move. Because that's exactly what she wants.
"I'm pregnant." Mila presses her palm against her stomach, her voice pitching higher. "Withyourbaby. And you're going to abandon us?"
"There is no baby!” I force myself to breathe. "And if there is, it's not mine."
"You don't know that! You don't remember!"
"I remember everything.”
She lunges—actually lunges for me—and Craig catches her, holding her back while she screams and claws at the air between us.
"You promised me!" she wails. "You said we had something special! You said she didn't understand you the way I did!"
I said none of those things. Not once. Not even close.
This is the fantasy she's built. The version of that night she's convinced herself is real.
It’s fucking terrifying.
“The police are here," someone says from behind me.
Two officers approach, exchanging a look with me, and I nod.
"Ma'am, you need to come with us," one of them says, reaching for Mila's arm.
She jerks away from him, spinning to face the growing crowd. "He's a liar!" she shouts, pointing at me. "He cheated on his wife and got me pregnant, and now he's pretending I don't exist! Ask him! Ask him what happened in New York!"
No one moves. The silence is stifling.
"I was drunk," I explain quietly, addressing the room as much as Mila. "I kissed her once. I regretted it immediately. That's the whole story."
Mila's face crumples, rage giving way to something that almost looks like grief.
"That's not—you're lying—" Her voice breaks. “We could have had everything, Dev!”
For one horrible moment, I almost feel sorry for her.
Then I remember Jade crying on the kitchen floor. The Instagram posts. The emails to her readers. The voicemail calling her fat and tired. Her words just now about making her cry in high school.
"You need help," I tell Mila. "Real help from a professional. You’re not getting any sympathy from me.”
The officers each take one of her arms. She fights like a hellcat, kicking and screaming, even trying tobitethem. But they’re stronger than her and wrestle her towards the exit, reading her rights as they go.
"This isn't over!” she screams. "You'll see. When the baby comes, you'll know. Everyone will know."
Then she's gone, the automatic doors sliding shut behind her.
The lobby remains frozen for a long, painful moment.
"Show's over," Craig finally calls out, waving people back to their workouts. "Nothing to see here."
I stand rooted to the spot, my legs trembling beneath me.
I need to go home.
Then I remember the feeling of being watched earlier—that was her, wasn’t it? She was already here. Before the breakdown and all the screaming. She was watching me, waiting for the right moment to strike.
