Chapter 8
748 Words
Noah’s POV
The moment we stepped out of the shop, I knew the situation had changed.
It wasn’t instinct anymore. The car was still there, in the same position, same silence, and same intent.
People who followed you discreetly didn’t make themselves obvious like that. These ones weren’t hiding; they were letting me know they were present, and that meant one thing. They wanted a reaction, but I didn’t give them one.
Instead, I opened the car door for Bridget and Bryan as if nothing had happened.
“Get in.”
Bridget didn’t move immediately. Her eyes searched mine, sharp and unyielding.
“Tell me the truth,” she said quietly. “What did you see?”
For a second, I considered brushing it off. Giving her something light, something that would keep her calm, but after what had already begun…that would be a mistake.
“Someone who shouldn’t be watching us,” I said, keeping my tone even, “is watching us.”
Her face paled slightly.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I can give right now.”
She didn’t like it. I could see it in the tension of her shoulders, in the way her lips pressed together, but Bryan had already climbed into the back seat, still holding his ice cream like the world hadn’t shifted around him.
“Mom, come on!”
Bridget hesitated one last second, then got in.
I shut the door, moved around the car, and slid into the driver’s seat.
Then I drove.
The silence inside the car was heavy, the kind that carried too many unspoken thoughts.
Bryan broke it first.
“This is the best day ever,” he said, licking his ice cream.
Neither of us responded. He frowned slightly and leaned forward.
“Why are you both quiet?”
Bridget forced a small smile.
“We’re just tired.”
Bryan wasn’t convinced. His eyes moved to the rearview mirror, meeting mine.
“You’re not tired.”
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
“Why do you think that?”
“Because your eyes look like when I’m trying to solve something hard.”
That caught me off guard more than it should have. I glanced at him again.
“Maybe I am thinking,” I admitted.
He nodded, satisfied with that answer. Then after a brief pause, he asked softly,
“About me?”
The question settled in the car like something fragile. Bridget turned slightly, her attention shifting immediately. I tightened my grip on the steering wheel.
“Yes.”
Bryan leaned forward a little more.
“Are you still thinking if I’m your son?”
Bridget inhaled sharply.
“Bryan…”
“No,” I interrupted gently.
He went still.
Waiting.
I exhaled slowly, choosing my words carefully.
“I’m trying to understand how I missed seven years of your life.”
Silence followed, not uncomfortable, but a real silence.
Bryan leaned back into his seat, absorbing it.
“Oh.”
That was all he said.
But there was something in it, something quiet and thoughtful, and somehow, that simple reaction hit harder than anger would have.
We stopped at a traffic light.
Red. We waited. I checked the mirror again, and the car was still there. It was closer now, watching and waiting.
Bryan spoke again, his voice softer this time.
“Did you not know about me?”
The question left no room for evasion.
I could lie to make it easier, but he would know; children like him always knew.
“I didn’t know,” I said.
“Not at all?” he asked.
“Not at all.”
He looked down at his melting ice cream, thinking. Then he nodded.
“Okay.” He accepted
The light turned green. I drove forward, but slower now, I was more aware.
After a few minutes, Bryan spoke again.
“If the test says I’m your son…”
My chest tightened slightly.
“…will you stay?”
I met his eyes through the mirror. There was no fear in them, just a quiet hope.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said.
My voice was steady and certain.
Bryan nodded.
“Okay.”
And just like that, he believed me. Then suddenly headlights flashed behind us too close and aggressive. I looked into the mirror.
The same black car and this time… There was no doubt.
“They’re following us,” I said.
- Writer
