Page 24 of What Goes Around

Now he looked at Apple like maybe she could salvage what I had apparently failed to deliver.

Apple tucked her hair behind her ear.

“Nick’s… happy. Really happy. He can’t wait to meet the baby.”

The words hit like a fist under my ribs, knocking the breath out of me.

Dad nodded, satisfied. “Good. Good. And will he… make an honest woman out of you?”

My mother lit up at the idea. Dad repeated, already envisioning it, “A wedding before the baby comes would be—”

I couldn’t listen anymore.

I pushed my chair back. The sharp scrape of wood against tile made everyone flinch.

Mom reached for me. “Ashley—”

I stepped out of her reach.

“I’m tired,” I said. “I’m going to bed.”

No one stopped me as I walked away.

Chapter 9: The Day I Disappeared

Days bled into weeks.

I barely left my room. Time slipped past in a dull, shapeless haze, marked only by meals I sometimes skipped and the quiet ache that never really went away.

Sometimes I’d hear Mom on the phone downstairs, her voice hushed, like she didn’t want me to hear.

“She’s doing better,” she’d said. “Still quiet, of course. You know how she is.”

“No, she hasn’t found a job yet.”

“Well… actions have consequences.”

Dad was in his office most days, and when he was home, he locked himself in his study. That had always been his version of fatherhood.

Close enough to claim.

Too distant to touch.

A week ago, Apple had a miscarriage.

I didn’t hear it from her.

I saw it online.

Tears. Photos. Long captions about loss and strength and healing.

Hundreds of comments. Support. Sympathy. Love.

She cried for the world and the world cried back.

Then one morning, Mom knocked on my door.

“Get up,” she said, brisk. “You’ve been here long enough.”