Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the curtains, casting golden stripes across the bed. Amelia stirred, her head sinking deeper into the pillow as fragments of the previous night danced in her mind. She turned over, her hand reaching out instinctively, only to find the other side of the bed empty.
Her stomach dropped.
Sitting up, she noticed Ryan’s phone vibrating on the nightstand. The faint hum cut through the silence, drawing her gaze to the screen. A message lit up: Brenda: Emergency. The baby’s in danger.
Amelia’s chest tightened, a storm of anger and disappointment swirling within her. The sound of footsteps approached, and Ryan hurried into the room, his face pale and his shirt haphazardly buttoned.
“You’re leaving,” she stated, her voice sharp as glass.
Ryan hesitated, his eyes darting to the phone. “Brenda’s in trouble,” he said, the guilt in his tone unmistakable.
Amelia swung her legs over the side of the bed, her movements deliberate as she stood. “Of course, it’s Brenda,” she said bitterly. “Isn’t it always Brenda?”
“It’s not like that,” Ryan began, his hands raised in defense. “She’s pregnant, Amelia. If something happens to the baby—”
“—then it’s your responsibility, right?” Amelia snapped, cutting him off. Her voice cracked as the vulnerability of the night before was replaced with the cold weight of reality.
Ryan stepped closer, his expression torn. “I don’t want to leave things like this. Last night—”
“Last night was a mistake,” she interrupted, her voice trembling despite her best efforts. “Go. Take care of Brenda.”
Ryan’s shoulders slumped, but he didn’t argue. He grabbed his keys and left the room without another word, leaving the door ajar behind him.
Amelia sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the empty space where he’d been. The warmth of their shared moment had evaporated, leaving only a hollow ache in its place.