JAY-JAY POV
It's been two months since I arrived in New York.
Two months of silence.
Two months of healing.
Two months of pretending I wasn't waiting for someone to show up.
I finished high school here.
Walked across a stage in a borrowed gown, smiled for photos I didn't want, and clapped for people I barely knew.
It was quiet.
No chaos.
No Section E boys yelling in the hallway
. No Keifer watching me like I was the only thing keeping him tethered.
Just me.
And the baby.
I kept the baby a secret—even at school.
Nobody really knew I was pregnant.
Not because I was ashamed.
But because I wanted to avoid the question: Who's the dad?
And I didn't have the answer they wanted.
Not one I could say without breaking.
So I wore loose clothes.
Skipped gym.
Smiled just enough to pass as okay.
Every night, I'd lie in bed, hand on my stomach, whispering things I couldn't say out loud. "You're safe."
"I've got you."
"I'm sorry."
Because this baby—this tiny heartbeat—was the only thing that hadn't lied to me.
The only thing that hadn't left.
And maybe that was enough.
For now.
___________________________________
I was just walking by.
I didn't mean to eavesdrop.
But the door was cracked open, and their voices drifted out like a secret I wasn't supposed to hear.
"Jasfher, you're sick again," Mama Reycee said softly. "You're thinking too much. Jay is a brave girl. She'll figure it out."
I froze.
Papa was sick.
Again.
And he was worried about me.
"But she's still my daughter," he said, voice strained. "I have to worry about her. She just turned eighteen… and she's about to have a kid."
"She's also my daughter," Mama Reycee replied. "And honestly, I'm worried too. But you're getting worse every day."
I pressed my hand to my mouth, trying not to make a sound.
I love Mama Reycee.
I never knew warmth from my own mother.
Not like this.
Not like someone who saw me, who chose me.
She's been taking care of me better than Percy ever did.
Better than anyone ever has.
That's why I made my decision.
They deserve better than me.
Better than the girl who brings storms into every room.
Better than the daughter who has hospital reports and pregnancy tests in the same drawer.
I'm leaving.
Tonight.
I went to my room and packed up.
Not much—just what I could carry
. Clothes.
Some Cash I saved doing some jobs Mama and Papa don't know about .
The ultrasound photo.
A notebook filled with promises I hadn't spoken out loud.
This journey won't be easy.
I know that.
I'm eighteen.
I'm scared.
I'm alone.
But I'm not leaving you.
I placed a hand on my stomach, feeling the faint flutter beneath.
"I will protect you," I whispered.
"I will raise you alone. I will never leave you like my own mother did."
That was my promise.
Not just to the baby.
But to myself.
I wouldn't repeat the cycle.
I wouldn't be the girl who ran from love.
I'd be the girl who fought for it.
Even if it meant starting over.
Even if it meant walking into the unknown.
Because this time— I wasn't just surviving.
I was choosing to live.
For both of us.
"Jay, come—dinner's ready," Mama Reycee called from the kitchen.
"Coming," I said, voice steady.
But inside, everything was trembling.
Tonight is the day I leave.
I glanced around my room one last time.
The folded clothes.
The packed bag.
The ultrasound photo tucked into my notebook.
I wasn't running away.
I was choosing something else.
A life where I didn't have to keep hurting the people I loved.
Mama Reycee's voice was warm, like always.
She didn't know.
Not yet.
And maybe that was better.
Maybe goodbye didn't need words.
Just silence.
Just a door closing softly behind me.
I took a deep breath.
And walked toward the kitchen.
One last dinner.
One last moment before everything changed.
After dinner, I went back to my room.
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
Like it already knew I was about to disappear.
I sat at my desk, pulled out a sheet of paper, and stared at it for a long time.
What do you even say when you're about to break someone's heart?
But I owed them something.
Not an explanation— A truth.
So I wrote.
The Letter
To Mama Reycee, Papa, and Percy—
I'm sorry.
I know this isn't the way you wanted things to go.
I know leaving like this will hurt.
But I need to go.
Not because I don't love you.
But because I do.
You've given me more than I ever thought I deserved.
A home. A family. Warmth I never got from the woman who gave birth to me.
Mama Reycee, thank you for loving me like I was yours.
For seeing me when I couldn't even look at myself. You were the mother I prayed for as a kid.
Papa, I'm sorry I found out about your illness this way. I wish you had told me. But I understand why you didn't. You were trying to protect me—just like I'm trying to protect you now.
Percy… You've always been the big brother I never asked for but always needed. Thank you for standing by me, even when I didn't make it easy.
I'm leaving because I don't want to be the reason you all break. Because I need to figure out how to be a mother without dragging anyone else down. Because I need to prove to myself that I can do this.
Please don't come looking for me. I'll be okay. And one day, when I'm ready— I'll come home.
Love, Jay
I folded the letter and left it on my pillow. One last piece of me in the place that held so much love.
Then I picked up my bag, opened the door, and stepped into the night.
No looking back. Not this time.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
PERCY POV
The house was too quiet.
No kettle whistling. No Jay humming off-key in the kitchen. No sarcastic "Good morning, loser" as she passed by with her mug.
Just silence.
I knocked on her door. No answer.
"Jay?" I called, pushing it open.
The room was… still. Too still.
The bed was made.
The closet is half-empty. And on the pillow— A folded piece of paper with my name on it.
I knew.
Before I even touched it, I knew.
My hands shook as I opened it.
Read every word.
Felt every line like a punch to the chest.
She was gone.
She left in the middle of the night.
Didn't say goodbye.
Didn't ask for help.
Just vanished.
Like she thought we'd be better off without her.
I sat on the edge of her bed, letter in hand, heart sinking.
"Idiot," I whispered. "You didn't have to do this alone."
But she was already gone.
And all I had left was her handwriting— And the echo of a sister who never stopped trying to protect everyone but herself.
I stood in the kitchen, letter still in my hand. The sun was barely up, casting a soft orange glow across the counter. The kettle hadn't even started boiling yet.
Mama Reycee was humming, slicing fruit. Papa sat at the table, reading the news, his hands trembling just slightly—like always now.
I didn't know how to say it. Didn't know how to break their hearts the way mine had just shattered.
"Mama," I said, voice low. She looked up, smile fading the second she saw my face.
"What is it?" she asked, wiping her hands on a towel.
I held out the letter. "She's gone."
Papa looked up sharply. "What do you mean, gone?"
"She left last night," I said. "She packed her things. Slipped out while we were sleeping."
Mama Reycee took the letter with shaking hands. Her eyes scanned the page, lips trembling as she read. Papa stood slowly, coming to stand behind her, reading over her shoulder.
Silence. Heavy. Crushing.
"She thinks she's protecting us," Mama whispered. "She thinks she's a burden," Papa said, voice breaking.
I nodded. "She didn't want to hurt us. But she's out there alone. With the baby."
Mama sat down hard in the nearest chair. Papa didn't speak. He just stared at the letter like it might rewrite itself.
"I should've known," I said. "She was too quiet last night. Too… calm."
I watched Mama Reycee crumble in front of me.
Watched Papa try to hold it together, even as his hands trembled harder than usual.
And all I could think was— She shouldn't have had to do this alone.
Jay-Jay. My sister. My chaos. My responsibility.
She left thinking she was protecting us. That she was the burden. That we'd be better off without her.
She was wrong.
"She's out there," I said, voice low. "With no money. No plan. Pregnant. Alone."
Mama wiped her eyes. "We have to find her."
"We will," I said, already pulling out my phone. "I'll call everyone. Old friends. Contacts. Anyone who might've seen her."
Papa nodded. "Start with the bus stations. She wouldn't fly. She'd want to disappear quietly."
I nodded. Because I knew her. Knew the way she thought. Knew the way she carried guilt like armor.
"She's not just your daughter," I said, looking at both of them. "She's my sister. And I'm not letting her go without a fight."
I stepped out of the kitchen, heart pounding, fingers already dialing.
Wherever you are, Jay— I'm coming. And this time, I won't let you walk away thinking you're alone.