Brenda sat on the plush couch in Ryan’s living room, her hand resting protectively on her belly. “You’re late again,” she said flatly as Ryan walked in.
“I told you, I had work,” Ryan replied, his tone weary as he dropped his keys onto the counter.
“Work,” Brenda repeated, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Or were you off playing house with Amelia and the twins?”
Ryan froze, his back stiffening. “Don’t start, Brenda.”
“Oh, I will start,” she snapped, rising to her feet. “I’m the one carrying your child, Ryan. But every time I turn around, you’re running to Amelia.”
“I’m not running to her,” Ryan said, turning to face her. “I’m trying to be there for my kids.”
Brenda’s eyes flashed with anger. “And what about this one?” she asked, pointing to her belly. “Or is he not as important because he’s not part of your little picture-perfect family with Amelia? Or Steve who’s still in the hospital?”
“That’s not fair, Brenda,” Ryan said, his voice low but tense. “I’ve been to every appointment, haven’t I? I’m doing my part.”
“Your part?” Brenda said, her voice rising. “You show up when it’s convenient and act like that’s enough. Newsflash, Ryan: you don’t get to cherry-pick when to be a father.”
Ryan ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling over. “I’m trying, Brenda. But you knew from the start that this wasn’t about us being a family.”
Her face twisted with anger. “You think you can just show up for a few appointments and call it a day? If you don’t start putting this baby first, I’ll file for sole custody. I’ll make sure you never see him.”
Ryan’s eyes hardened. “You can try, Brenda. But don’t forget—you’re the one who’s lied and manipulated everyone around you. That’s not going to fly in court.”
Brenda’s expression shifted, her anger morphing into something sharper, more calculated. “If you think I’m going to let you waltz off into Amelia’s perfect little world while I raise this baby alone, you’re delusional. Step up or never see your child again.”