42. Evie

forty-two

I opened my eyes to the sound of birds chirping.

How I missed this— the sound of serenity. The comfort of the peeling walls of our apartment. Minnesota.

A small smile tilted my lips when I heard the sound of Dad’s voice. How I missed his singing.

“Good morning,” he chirped, rearing his head through my slightly ajar door.

“Good morning, Dad,” I smiled.

He smiled back. “How are you, darling?”

“I”m fine, Dad.”

“I see,” he grinned.

“I”m making breakfast. See you outside in a few minutes.”

“Okay, Dad.”

He shut the door gently and my smile dropped. This was how it usually was. It wasn”t like I was faking the smile, I loved Dad, and the bond— the one we had before all this— was still there.

But every single time the door closed, and I was left to my thoughts, my smile dropped.

The few seconds after I woke up was the only time I had to be grateful. Other seconds that came after reminded me of the gaping hole in my chest.

Hell, everything reminded me of the pain in my chest.

The birds reminded me of Sophie, and his words…. my belly, reminded me of him.

It had been a week since I returned to Dad. After staying in Emma’s place for two weeks— with Ethan’s relentless pursuit, I decided to leave.

His words were a lot for me… they were too much for my heart to handle.

He never missed a day. Even when Emma failed to open the door, he stayed, pleading from the other side. And I listened from behind the door. I listened to each of his words— the emotion it carried, the hurt. But I never opened… I never saw him.

I didn”t want to. It wasn’t just the text, it was more than that. It was everything.

I fought the tears as I brought my hand to my belly. Perhaps it was one of the reasons, that despite the renewed bond between Dad and I, I still felt sad.

Dad didn”t know about my pregnancy. It was one month after finding out and I just couldn”t bring myself to tell him.

All the days I’d spent here, I tried to summon the courage, I just couldn”t. Not when he was this happy that I came home— that I chose him… that I finally did the right thing.

He was proud of me, he was happy. I just couldn”t ruin things for us.

Things were finally going right for him. He now had employees— a little more than a few. The contract was working out perfectly for him.

His life was the definition of picture perfect, and it could remain that way until my belly started to show.

I didn’t want to imagine the look of disappointment on his face if I told him. I didn’t want to be the reason his smile was wiped away. I didn’t want to hurt Dad the second time.

But, I knew I”d do whatever it took to care for my baby. If it came down to it, and it was just us, I’d love him with every fiber of my being.

Amidst all this, I found myself thinking about Ethan, and not just because of the pain he caused me.

I found myself thinking about everything. The moments, the memories, any small gestures I could cling to.

I didn”t know why my heart refused to understand that he was now part of the past. I didn”t know why it couldn”t understand that we had to live without him. I had to.

Inhaling a deep breath, I swung the duvet off myself before heading to the mirror. I had to make sure there were no traces of tears— or almost tears. I had to put on the same happy facade for Dad.

Tucking a few tendrils of hair behind my ear, I sighed and made my way out of the door when I received a text from Emma.

So, when are you going to tell Ethan about the pregnancy?

I sighed again. A long, heavy one. This was a question Emma had been asking since I’d been at her place.

I still didn”t know.

I don”t know.

I didn”t know if he deserved to know. Not wanting to continue the conversation, I entered the narrow passage.

The smell of fried egg was thick in the air. I involuntarily scrunched my nose.

It wasn’t just thick in the air, it felt thick in my stomach, curling my intestine with disgust.

My steps faltered. I contemplated running back to the safety of my room when Dad called out.

“Evie, honey?”

I swallowed thickly, holding my breath. “Dad.” I wore a smile, taking slow steps to the kitchen.

He was frying eggs. The sight of it regurgitated something in my stomach.

“What”s for breakfast?” I clenched my fist as my insides turned.

“Fried eggs and bacon. Don”t you just love the smell?” He grinned, his hands still shaking the frying pan handle on the fire.

“I do,” I smiled.

My cheeks were starting to hurt from how much I was smiling.

“Of course, you do. Just inhale the aroma. I added a little curry spice and a bit of…” I drowned out his words. The list of ingredients even made it worse. I couldn”t hold it any longer.

Instinctively, I held my stomach, tossed my phone on the kitchen counter, and ran to my room. I plunged the door of the bathroom open before kneeling in front of the toilet.

With a loud sound, I spilled my guts. Fuck. My heart raced as another wave of nausea slammed into me. Clenching my toilet seat with both hands I spilled another round.

“Evie? Are you okay?”

Shit.

Dad pulled my hair back. I couldn”t speak. The disgust was heavy on my lips.

“Tissue. I”ll go get the tissues.”

My heart hammered against my ribcage as I froze in fear. I’d been feeling nauseous in the past weeks but never threw up.

Tears spilled from my eyes as I awaited Dad’s return.

What would I say? I”d managed to escape this as a mild sickness. But what about other days? Would he accompany me to the clinic if I said it was just a stomach flu? Who–

“Here it is.”

I didn”t need to turn to see that something had changed. His voice was tighter.

I swallowed, turning to accept the tissue. I didn”t have the courage to meet his eyes.

“I”ll wait for you outside,” he deadpanned before leaving the toilet.

I shakily wiped my mouth and flushed before following him.

He knew. If I didn”t know that from my phone that lay daintily between his clenched fist, everything about his demeanor told me that he knew.

“You”re pregnant.”

My breath hitched. I still didn’t meet his eyes. Silence stretched for an eternity as I stood there, head bowed and tears streaming down my cheeks.

I didn”t have anything to say. I was guilty.

“When were you going to tell me?”

I shook when I heard the waver in his voice.

“When were you going to stop pretending like everything is alright and tell me that you”re unhappy with this life?”

I took in a sharp breath.

He had read the chat with Emma. He had read where I poured out my heart that I was unhappy with everything. And that the comfort I expected to find in Minnesota– with Dad wasn”t there.

I finally met his eyes.

Disappointment, hurt, and anger clouded his orbs, just like when he came to New York.

The tears poured even more down my cheeks.

“I’m—”

“You”re what? Sorry?” His voice was a dry rasp. “God, Evie, you had your life to live. Why choose to live it like this?”

His words struck my chest. “I don”t even know what to say to you anymore. I need some time to process this.”

With that, he walked out, and I was left to my tears.

I crumbled to the ground, tucking my head into my palms.

Once again, I ruined things. I ruined things in New York. Now, I”ve ruined things here.

When would it end? When would this malicious cycle of brokenness end? When would I ever really be free? Did I even deserve it?

I wanted to escape… to escape the questions, the thoughts, everything.

So, I sank to the floor and let the darkness consume me.

I didn”t know how long I slept, but the feeling of something trailing the side of my face woke me.

Slowly, I let my heavy lid flutter open.

The figure was blurry at first, but after a few blinks, I saw that it was Dad.

He was kneeling beside me, eyes red and droopy and posture wavering as his thumb lightly traced my face.

“Dad?” I furrowed my brows, rising to a seating position. He inhaled sharply.

“You look so much like your mom,” he whispered.

His breath reeked of alcohol. Dad barely drank, so him being tipsy was surreal.

I breathed, not knowing what to say. He retracted his finger from my face.

“We had you when she was twenty…” He heaved a deep breath. “She freaked out when she first knew. She … she almost ran.” His shoulders shook.

I couldn’t quite tell whether the sound that followed after was laughter or a cry.

He continued. “We were still in college; she was nervous and everything but I… I was there to support her… kiss her tears away,” he smiled forlornly.

“I provided her assurance… and comfort… the two things she needed strongly at the time.”

His shoulders slouched, his head tilting to stare at me.

“When I went out, I thought about many things…” he trailed.

I held my breath. I wasn’t the daughter he was proud of.

“…The first being that I failed you as a father and failed your mom as a husband.”

I winced, bringing a hand to wrap around my body.

“It’s not your fault, Dad. It’s not.”

“You think?” A tear slipped past his eyes.

“I promised your mother I”d keep you safe, that I”d shield you from the harsh realities of the world. But here you are, facing this...” he gestured sloppily, ”alone.”

His voice turned raw.

“It is times like these that test us. It is situations like this that challenges me as a father to do better. So maybe if I failed, it isn’t so bad… because failure can be a chance to start again.”

I broke into tears, staring at him with a mix of emotions.

The disappointment was still in his eyes, but beneath the layers, I found a flicker of something— acceptance.

He was giving me his support. I jumped to hug him, my tears drenching his shirt.

“Thank you, Dad.”

He wrapped his arm tightly around me, before pulling back to stare at me.

“I know Ethan, and he may be a lot of things, but one thing he’s not is a coward.”

I swallowed.

“The child needs its father, Evie.”