Amelia stared at her, frozen. She looked at Ryan, waiting for him to deny it, but he stood there, stunned into silence.
“Ryan?” Amelia’s voice was steady, but her eyes burned with anger.
“I—” Ryan started, but he couldn’t seem to form the words.
From the corner, Damien’s small voice cut through the tension. “Mom, does that mean we’re getting a little brother or sister?”
Amelia’s head snapped toward her son. “Damien, go play outside.”
“But—”
“Now,” she said firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument.
Damien hesitated before running back out. Amelia turned back to Brenda, her face tight with fury.
“You’ll never change, Ryan,” she said quietly, each word precise. “And now I know for sure—you’ll never be part of this family again.”
Brenda crossed her arms, her smirk widening as Ryan struggled to find the right thing to say. But Amelia didn’t wait. She stormed out of the room, leaving them both behind.
Brenda lingered in the living room, her gaze flitting around Ryan’s expensive furniture before landing on him. He stood frozen, still processing what had just happened.
“You can’t just show up here and do this,” Ryan finally said, his voice low and sharp.
“I had to,” Brenda replied, her tone calm but firm. “You needed to know.”
Ryan stared at her, his frustration mounting. “You’re lying.”
“Am I?” Brenda placed her hand on her stomach again. “Do you really want to risk ignoring me if I’m not?”
She leaned against the doorframe, her arms folded, a faint smirk playing on her lips. “Do you remember that night, Ryan?” she asked, her voice low, almost teasing.
Ryan didn’t look up. “Which night?” he replied flatly, though he already knew where this was going.
“The night we made this baby,” Brenda said, stepping closer, her eyes gleaming with something between triumph and longing. “You were so different then. We both were.”
He exhaled sharply. “What’s your point, Brenda?”
She took another step, her fingers lightly brushing his arm. “It was one of the only nights that felt real, Ryan. You weren’t just going through the motions. You looked at me like I mattered.” Her voice wavered slightly before she steadied it again. “I thought maybe… just maybe, that’s when we finally had something.”
Ryan turned to face her, his expression unreadable. The memory of that night flickered in his mind: Brenda laughing freely, her walls momentarily down as they shared a rare moment of vulnerability over too much wine. She’d leaned in to kiss him, and for a fleeting instant, he let himself believe that maybe starting over with her could work. But the warmth of that memory was quickly overshadowed by everything that came after—the lies, the manipulation, the disillusionment.
“You remember it how you want to,” he said finally, his voice firm but not unkind. “But don’t confuse one night with something it wasn’t.”
Her smirk faltered, replaced by a flicker of hurt. “I thought it meant something to you, Ryan.”
“It meant I wanted to believe something that wasn’t true,” he replied. His gaze softened briefly before he turned away. “That’s not the same.”
Amelia appeared in the doorway, her arms crossed tightly. “You have no shame, do you?”
Brenda didn’t flinch. “Don’t pretend you wouldn’t do anything to protect your kids, Amelia. That’s all I’m doing.”
“This isn’t protection,” Amelia shot back. “It’s manipulation. And it won’t work.”
Ryan’s voice cut through the argument. “Enough.” He turned to Brenda, his tone ice-cold. “If you’re lying, you won’t get away with this. And if you’re not…” He hesitated, anger flickering in his eyes. “It doesn’t change anything between us. We’re done.”
Brenda’s confident facade faltered for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. “We’ll see about that.”
As Brenda walked out, the room fell silent again. Ryan sank into a chair, his head in his hands. Amelia stayed by the door, watching him closely.
“You’ve made your bed, Ryan,” she said quietly. “Don’t expect me to pick up the pieces.”