Lily's POV
My heart clenched painfully as I stood frozen, watching him press his lips to hers. The sight burned into me like fire. I didn't mean to see it—didn't want to—but I did. And the tears came before I could stop them, slipping down my cheeks like silent betrayals. This was the same boy I once swore I'd risk everything for. The same boy who now held her like she was something rare and irreplaceable—like she was his whole world.
How do I face him now?
How do I find the words to say: You're going to be a father… when I'm no longer the girl he chooses to hold?
As if seeing him kiss someone else wasn't devastating enough, my phone buzzed with a message that knocked the air out of me.
"Meet me at the Café Store."
It was from his mom—Jane Smith.
I went. Maybe part of me hoped she'd understand. Maybe I was just desperate to feel seen. But when I got there, she barely looked at me. No pleasantries. No warmth. Just cold, clipped words.
"I know you're pregnant. And trust me, you can't keep that child."
Then, without flinching, she pulled out an envelope thick with cash and tossed it across the table like I was a problem she could pay to disappear.
"Leave my son's life. And don't come back."
I stared at the money for a long moment. Part of me wanted to cry. Part of me wanted to scream. But mostly, I just felt numb.
Maybe this was my compensation, I told myself. Maybe this was all the love I was ever going to get from him.
The doctor had warned me not to drink. Said it could hurt the baby. But how was I supposed to stay strong when everything around me was falling apart?
How was I supposed to go home and look my mom in the eye—the same woman who raised me single-handedly—and say, "I'm pregnant."
I'm barely a girl… and now I'm supposed to be a mother?
Just then, a soft, concerned voice broke through my thoughts.
"Lily, I think it's time you start heading home now. You know how New York gets at night."
It was Mr. Harper. He's always been like an uncle to me. He didn't press. Didn't ask questions. But I could see the worry in his eyes.
I nodded wordlessly, grabbed my bag, and walked toward the door, every step feeling heavier than the last.
When I got home, the scent of mama's cooking wrapped around me like a memory I couldn't hold on to. She had just finished preparing dinner—her hands gently arranging plates on the table like she did every night, as if the world wasn't crumbling around me.
I stood there, watching her. My throat tightened. My heart pounded against my ribs like it was trying to escape.
And then—
I broke.
The sobs burst out of me like a dam had cracked open. I sank to my knees, my hands shaking as the tears came, uncontrollably.
Mama turned quickly, alarm etched across her face.
"Lily?" she called softly, stepping closer. "What is it? What's wrong?"
But I couldn't speak, not yet. My mind was flooding with every cruel word the world had ever thrown at her.
Whore.
Home wrecker.
I remembered the whispers on the street, the women who would pull their husbands away when mama walked by—even though she never did anything wrong. I remembered how she held her head up high, even when they dragged her name through the mud.
And now me… I was walking down that same road.
Pregnant at seventeen.
Alone.
"I'm sorry," I choked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Mama knelt beside me, her warm hands reaching for mine. "Baby, talk to me. Please."
I looked into her eyes—those same eyes that had fought through storms for me—and finally said it.
"I'm pregnant."
Her breath caught. And for a moment… just one fleeting second, I saw it.
Disappointment.
Pain.
Something that cut deeper than words.
But it was gone just as quickly as it came.
She pulled me into her arms, holding me tight. "I know," she whispered.
I froze. "You knew?"
"I've been watching you, Lily," she said gently. "The way you've been moving, the way you cry at night. A mother always knows."
I broke again, burying my face in her shoulder. "He kissed another girl… and his mom… she told me to get rid of it. She gave me money to leave his life for good."
Mama's grip on me tightened, fierce like a shield. "You don't need their money," she said through clenched teeth. "You don't need their permission to be strong."
"But how can I raise a baby, Mama?" I cried. "I'm still a child myself. I'm scared."
She pulled back just enough to look into my eyes. "You listen to me, Lily. You are not a mistake. And neither is that baby inside you. Yes, life is going to get harder. But we've survived worse, haven't we? I raised you alone, didn't I?"
I nodded through my tears.
"Then you'll do the same if you have to. But you won't be alone. You'll have me. We'll figure it out together. We always do."
I collapsed into her arms again, my soul aching, but for the first time all day… I didn't feel completely alone.
I could barely eat.
The food was warm. Comforting. Familiar. But every bite tasted like ash in my mouth. My stomach twisted, not from nausea this time, but from the ache of everything breaking inside me.
Mama sat beside me, gently scooping rice onto my plate like nothing had changed, even though everything had.
"Just a few bites, baby," she urged, forcing a soft smile. "You've got to keep your strength up… for the baby."
I knew she was trying—trying to patch my shattered heart with motherly love. Trying to make me believe it was all going to be okay. But I could see the fear behind her eyes, no matter how much she tried to hide it.
How do I protect my baby when I can't even protect myself?
That night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling in the dark.
Sleep wouldn't come. It just hovered, teasing me every time I closed my eyes—only to vanish again. My thoughts raced like a storm, each one louder than the last.
Would my child hate me for this?
Would I become the same story they whispered about, like they did with Mama?
Could I even do this?
I turned. And turned again. My pillow was damp with tears I hadn't even realized I was crying.
Then, just past midnight, my phone lit up.
The vibration startled me. I reached for it with shaky hands.
One message.
One line.
"I'm sorry."
—from Jacob.
That was it. No explanation. No call. Just those two haunting words.
I stared at the screen, my breath frozen.
My heart screamed with a thousand questions.
What was he sorry for?
Was it the kiss? The baby? His silence? His mother?
And then—
another text appeared.
From an unknown number.
"You need to leave. Before it's too late."