The Truth Unfolds [POV: Abigail]
The dining table was set perfectly—soft candlelight flickered against the glassware, the delicate blue decorations complemented the warmth of the room, and a small, wrapped box sat at the center of Vincent’s plate.
I had spent the entire afternoon making sure every detail was just right. This was supposed to be special.
A private gender reveal. Just for the two of us.
I smoothed my hands over my belly, feeling the gentle flutter of movement inside. Just two more months, little one. Just two more months and you’ll be here.
Evie helped me put up the decorations earlier, but now, as we sat in the garden with warm tea in our hands, I noticed something was off.
She was unusually quiet.
I studied her for a moment, the way she kept sipping her tea without really tasting it, her gaze flickering away every time I looked at her.
I frowned. “Evie, is something wrong?”
She sighed, shaking her head. “Nothing.”
I wasn’t buying it.
“C’mon, Evie,” I pressed gently. “I know you. What is it?”
She forced a smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Let’s just finish the decorations and enjoy our tea before Vincent gets home.”
Her words should have reassured me, but instead, they sent a prickle of unease down my spine.
I checked my watch. 7 PM.
Vincent had promised he’d be home an hour ago.
Maybe he got caught up at work.
Maybe he was just running late.
But that little voice in my head—the one I had been trying to silence for weeks—wasn’t so easily convinced.
Evie must have caught my expression because she asked, “What time did he say he’d be home?”
I exhaled, setting my cup down carefully. “An hour ago.”
She let out a quiet chuckle, one filled with something I couldn’t quite place.
I turned to her, my stomach twisting. “What do you know, Evie?”
She hesitated. That hesitation alone was enough to make my pulse spike.
“Evie,” I said, my voice lower now, sharper. “What do you know?”
She shook her head. “It’s nothing, Aby.”
Her eyes betrayed her words. I swallowed hard, paranoia creeping in like a slow-moving storm. This feeling. This exact feeling. I had been here before.
“The other day,” I started, my voice barely above a whisper, “I found a condom in his bag.”
Evie stiffened.
I forced out a breath, trying to steady my hands. “I told myself, maybe it’s an old one. Maybe it was just something he never took out.”
Evie said nothing.
“But then,” I continued, “I tried to check his phone and laptop. Everything is locked. I mean, locked in a way that feels unnecessary. Like some CIA-level security.”
Still, silence.
I turned fully toward her now, my heart hammering in my chest.
“Tell me it’s all in my head, Evie,” I pleaded, my voice breaking. “Tell me I’m just being paranoid. Tell me I made the right decision to forgive him and give him a chance.”
Evie put her cup down carefully, her hands wringing together in her lap. Then, she looked at me—really looked at me. And in that moment, I knew.
I knew before she even spoke.
“I’m going to tell you something,” she said softly, painfully. “But only because I care about you. And because you deserve the truth.”
