I had barely dropped my phone from my hand when my bedroom door opened. Adrian stepped inside without knocking. Mother's voice drifted in from the hallway behind him. "She's not any better than when she left. She has a nasty attitude. You better talk to her."
For a moment I could not breathe. He looked no different than the last time I saw him. No different from the man who left me at the hospital parking lot with nowhere to go. No different from the man who told me it was his way or the highway.
And yet, somehow, during all those nights in the hotel, I had prayed he would come find me. I had hoped he would walk in and say he was sorry, that he had been wrong, that he still loved me.
"Why did you come back if you haven't fixed that attitude of yours?" he said. His tone was just as harsh as the last night we spoke.
I ignored the sting in his voice and looked at both of them instead. My chest tightened as I met their eyes. "Did not even one of you care about my well-being? About the baby?"
The room fell silent. They stared at me as if hearing my voice at all was a shock, as if I had suddenly spoken a language they did not understand.
"Watch how you speak," Mother snapped, as if my question alone was disrespectful.
"No. No… no," I said, turning fully to Adrian this time. "What did you do to my baby's room?"
"What?" he asked, his face shifting with confusion before he glanced toward his mother.
She refused to meet my eyes. "I just changed things in the guest room for Marie," she mumbled.
I watched Adrian sigh, slow and irritated, before turning back to me.
"Why are you acting out over a little thing like that?"
"A little thing…" I whispered. The betrayal lodged inside my throat like something sharp. I could hardly hide it.
"Ma'am," Marie said gently from behind us, appearing in the hallway. "Dinner is ready."
Mother cleared her throat. "Tell Vivi and my husband to come down," she said to Marie. Then she grabbed Adrian's arm. "Wash up, son. You must be tired. I made sure she prepared your favorite for you."
I watched them walk away, all of them moving around me like I was a chair or a forgotten piece of furniture. Like I had lost my mind. Like I had never been useful to them at all. Like my return meant nothing.
I stood there, alone in the doorway of the nursery that was no longer mine, feeling the pieces of myself slipping through my fingers. My chest felt tight, like something inside me was folding in on itself. I finally forced myself to step away from the doorway and walked toward the bathroom. Maybe a hot shower would help. Maybe I needed to wash off the day, the week, the fear, the disappointment.
But the water did nothing. Their laughter carried through the walls. Even the smell of dinner drifting up the stairs, warm and familiar, made my stomach twist. I had not eaten since morning, but I still had no appetite. It was as if the ache inside me was stronger than any hunger.
I stood under the water until it turned lukewarm, then I turned it off and dried myself slowly, trying to steady my breathing. But the moment I heard Lena's voice downstairs, bright and cheerful, something inside me snapped. It was sharp, painful, and I did something I had never done before.
I walked out of my room, straight through the hallway and down the stairs, until I reached the dining room.
They looked like the perfect family from the outside. The warm lighting, the soft clatter of utensils, their easy laughter. They seemed perfectly content without me. They always were. Even though I had sacrificed everything for them, even though I had always done anything they asked.
The question rose in my mind before I could stop it. Would they do the same for me?
Their heads turned when they noticed me standing there. Lena went quiet first. Her smile froze on her face like she had seen a ghost.
I walked up to the chair beside Adrian's, the one I always sat in. The one she had claimed.
"Get up," I said.
She blinked at me, confused. They all looked confused. "What are you talking about, Star?"
"Best friend," I said, the words almost mocking themselves. "I haven't seen you in a while. You are in my chair."
Vivi's voice shot up immediately. "Who the hell do you think you—"
"Shut up, Vivi," I said without raising my voice.
Mother's voice rose next, sharp and warning. "Star."
"I just want to eat dinner with the rest of you," I said, looking at each of them. "Or is that not allowed?"
Adrian sighed, tired and annoyed. "Lena, you can sit in the other chair."
She stared at him, shocked that he even suggested it. Her eyes flicked to me with quiet outrage before she got up slowly and moved to the chair next to Vivi.
I sat down. The table fell into an uncomfortable silence. I felt all of them watching me, waiting for something, waiting for me to break, or apologize, or leave.
"By the way," I said, keeping my voice steady, "the last time I left the house, I had an accident and they called the ambulance for me. But thankfully the baby and I were okay. The baby you are all related to, by the way. Mother and Father, your grandchild. Vivi, your niece. Adrian, your daughter. She is fine, in case any of you cared. I am just letting you know."
Silence spread across the table, thick and suffocating.
I called out, "Maria."
She appeared reluctantly from the hallway.
"I will need a plate," I said.
She looked at Mother, seeking approval. "But—"
"I said I will need a plate, Maria," I repeated, my voice calm and final.
She disappeared into the kitchen without another word. I kept my eyes on the table and not on any of their faces. I did not want to see their reactions. I did not want to hear their laughter again. The silence was better than the laughter they shared so easily, the laughter that never included me. Maybe for once they should sit in silence too, the same silence I always felt.
Adrian would probably get mad at me later tonight. Maybe he would hit me, something he only did when I upset him badly enough. But tonight, for the first time, I felt nothing at all. There was no fear, no regret, no shame, only a quiet numbness that settled in my chest like cold water.
Lena dropped her cutlery on the table hard enough to make the sound echo across the room. All of us looked at her at once. Her expression was sharp, almost offended.
"Why do you think it's only you?" she asked.
"What?" I said, confused.
"Why do you want us to treat you special just because you're pregnant, when it's not only you?"
"Lena, just what are you saying?" Adrian asked, and for once even he sounded confused.
"I'm pregnant," she said.