CHAPTER SEVEN
836 Words
It was a quiet Sunday evening, the kind that usually brought comfort — stew simmering in the kitchen, the television humming softly, the air heavy with familiarity. But today, the house felt too still, too fragile, like a breath held too long.
Fiona stepped into the living room and found her mother sitting on the couch, hands clasped tightly in her lap. Not knitting. Not reading. Not humming.
Just waiting.
That alone was enough to prick Fiona’s nerves.
“Mom?” Fiona said softly. “You look… tense. Did something happen?”
Her mother looked up, and for the first time in a long time, Fiona saw fear in her eyes. Not fear of danger — emotional fear. The kind a mother wore when she was about to say something that could shake her child’s world.
“Come sit,” her mother whispered.
Fiona hesitated for half a second before lowering herself onto the couch beside her. She tucked her legs underneath her, arms folded, heart beating faster than it should.
Her mother inhaled deeply, as if preparing to cross a line she could never uncross.
“Fiona… there’s something I’ve been keeping from you,” she began gently. “I didn’t want to rush you. And I wasn’t sure if the timing was right. But… I can’t delay it anymore.”
A cold knot tightened in Fiona’s stomach.
Not now. Not when she was already hiding morning sickness and strange cravings.
Not when she was still waking up every morning with the secret of her pregnancy choking her throat.
“What is it?” she asked carefully.
Her mother looked away for a moment, twisting the hem of her dress.
“I met someone.”
Fiona blinked. “You… did?”
“Yes,” her mother whispered. “And I’ve been seeing him for almost a year now.”
A year.
Her mother had been keeping that from her for a year?
Before Fiona could respond, her mother continued, words tumbling out like she’d been holding them back too long.
“He’s kind to me. Steady. Patient. He makes me feel safe again, Fiona. And I haven’t felt that way since your father died.”
Guilt flickered through Fiona — she wasn’t angry, not really. She wanted her mother to be happy. But the timing… the timing was cruel.
“That’s good, Mom,” Fiona said softly. “Really.”
Her mother took another breath — this one more fragile.
“There’s more.”
Fiona felt the air shift.
Heavier.
Sharper.
“I’m getting married.”
The world stilled.
Her mother’s voice trembled. “Next month.”
The knot in Fiona’s stomach twisted painfully.
Married.
Her mother was getting married.
And Fiona hadn’t even known she was dating someone.
But her mother wasn’t done.
“And he has a son,” she added, whispering the words like they carried weight she couldn’t soften. “You’ll be meeting him soon.”
Fiona’s heart dropped.
“What’s his name?” she asked quietly.
Her mother hesitated — too long.
Too heavy.
“Alistair.”
The name punched the breath out of Fiona’s lungs.
Her mother continued talking, unaware of the storm she’d just unleashed.
“He’s… complicated,” she said carefully. “A very private young man. A little intense. But he’s respectful. Driven. He’s a good son, despite the rumors about his business. And I want you to try—”
Fiona didn’t hear the rest.
Her ears rang.
Her pulse roared.
The room tilted.
Alistair.
Her mother was marrying a man whose son was **Alistair**.
Her Alistair.
The man she had slept with three months ago.
The man she’d been trying to forget.
The man whose child she carried secretly beneath her heart.
Her mother’s future husband was Alistair’s father.
Her mother was about to marry into the same family Fiona had sinned against.
“I—I need air,” Fiona whispered, standing so fast the room spun.
“Fiona?” her mother said, startled.
Fiona stumbled toward the door, gripping the frame to steady herself. Her throat closed. Her chest tightened. The truth wrapped its claws around her, dragging her under.
Her baby wasn’t just a mistake.
It was a scandal.
A forbidden bond.
A sin that would destroy everything her mother was trying to build.
“Sweetheart, are you alright?” her mother called, rising from the couch.
Fiona forced herself to turn, masking panic behind a trembling smile.
“I’m fine,” she lied.
“I’m just… surprised. I need to process it.”
Her mother nodded sympathetically. “I know it’s sudden. But I want you to meet him soon. And his son too — he’s very private, so I haven’t introduced him to anyone yet. But it’s time.”
Fiona’s breath hitched.
Yes.
It was time.
Time to face Alistair again.
Not as a stranger from a hotel room.
Not as a forbidden one-night mistake.
But as her **soon-to-be stepbrother**.
And the father of the child growing inside her.
- Writer
