Chapter 6
719 Words
The air in Tristan’s office had felt suffocating, even after I left. But I didn’t let it show. I returned to the dining area with my head held high, even as whispers followed me like shadows down a corridor.
People tried not to stare, but they failed miserably. Their eyes tracked my every step, their curiosity barely disguised behind polite smiles. I offered them nothing but a nod and returned to my work as though nothing had happened. Inside, though, I was a spinning mess of nerves.
"Are you okay?" Rosa—our new hostess—whispered when she passed by.
"I'm fine," I replied with a tight smile. “Just another morning at La Paraiso.”
The truth? I wasn’t fine.
I hadn’t eaten a bite of the lunch Rose packed for me. I couldn’t. My stomach was in knots, not from hunger, but from fear. Not of Tristan, not of what he'd said—but of the tiny heartbeat inside me that only I knew existed.
My hand brushed my lower abdomen as I wiped a table clean. It was still flat, still silent to the world, but it was there. A secret growing inside me. A life I hadn’t expected. A complication I wasn’t sure I could handle.
What was I supposed to do now?
Tell Tristan and risk opening the door again to a man who had already walked out on me once?, or keep the child a secret and raise them on my own, carrying both love and bitterness in equal measure?
“Susan,” Chef Matteo barked from the kitchen, jolting me out of my spiral. “Table 7 needs clearing!”
“On it,” I called, already grabbing a tray.
I moved on autopilot the rest of the day—clearing, smiling, serving. Polite. Efficient. But distracted. At one point, I caught a man watching me from across the lobby bar. He looked like he wanted to approach, but I turned away before he could. I couldn’t handle another conversation. Not today.
By late afternoon, my feet ached and my back throbbed. I blamed the heels. But deep down, I knew it was more than that. Everything was changing. When my shift ended, I didn’t go straight home instead I walked two blocks down to a quiet park just off the main street. The spring air was crisp, and the scent of freshly cut grass wrapped around me like a blanket.
I sat on a bench, eyes on the horizon but mind far away. I thought about my mom, how hard she worked to raise me alone after Dad died. She never once made me feel like a burden. Could I do the same? Could I love this child without bitterness? Without letting the past poison the future?
A tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it. “Get it together, Susan,” I muttered, swiping it away. “Crying in public? That’s a new low.”
But the truth was, I was scared. I had a full-time job, a chronically ill mother, a mountain of medical bills, and now… a baby.
I could practically hear Tristan’s voice echoing in my mind.
"You couldn’t give me an heir."
How cruel those words had been. How final.
And now? Life had turned around and laughed in both our faces. Maybe this was karma. Or maybe… just maybe, it was a second chance. Not for him—but for me.
I pulled out my phone, opened the notes app, and typed:
Things I Need to Figure Out Before I Tell Him:
1. Do I want to tell him at all?
2. Can I raise a baby on my own?
3. Is he capable of change—or just good at pretending?
I stared at the list for a long time before I locked my phone and stood up. The sun had dipped lower in the sky, bathing the park in amber hues.
My life was no longer just about survival. It was about choosing the right battles.
As I walked home that evening, I decided one thing for certain: I would fight—for myself, for my mother, and for the tiny heartbeat I hadn’t even heard yet but already loved with terrifying depth.
The rest? I’d figure it out.
Eventually.
- Writer
