Chapter Six – The Lie Between Us
1202 Words
Ivy didn’t know which sound made her jump more—the creak of the loose floorboard or the knock at the door.
She cursed under her breath and shoved the pregnancy test deeper into the shoebox, burying it under faded scarves and an old church fan. Her fingers fumbled with the lid. The plastic stick had shifted—was it visible? Could someone still see it? Her heartbeat thudded in her ears as she jammed the box back under the floorboard, tugged the rug over it, and stood up quickly, dizzy with panic.
Another knock. Softer this time. “Ivy?”
Jaxon.
Her heart clenched, then kicked into overdrive.
“Ivy?” he called again, his voice gentler than the first knock but laced with something she couldn’t quite name—concern, suspicion… both?
“Yeah?” she called back too quickly, too loud. Her voice cracked, betraying her nerves. “Just a sec.”
She darted into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. The mirror showed a pale, blotchy version of herself. Her pupils looked too big. Guilty. Exposed.
Get it together.
By the time she opened the door, Jaxon was leaning against the hallway wall, arms folded across his chest, eyebrows drawn into a quiet frown.
“You okay?” he asked.
Ivy forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah. Just sorting my closet. You know how messy it gets.”
His gaze didn’t waver. “You don’t usually take fifteen minutes to sort shoes.”
She felt her stomach twist. “Guess I got distracted.”
“With what?”
“I don’t know, Jax. Stuff.”
He stepped forward. “You’ve been acting weird lately.”
Her shoulders tensed. “No, I haven’t.”
“You have. And I know you hate being called out, but I’m not going to pretend not to see it.” His tone wasn’t harsh—just steady, quiet, honest. “You’ve barely looked at me in three days. You flinch when I touch you. You go dead quiet when I ask how your day was. And now, you’re locking yourself in your room, avoiding me like I’m some stranger.”
Ivy swallowed hard. Guilt bloomed in her chest, heavy and thick.
“I’m just tired,” she muttered.
“Don’t lie to me.”
The words weren’t angry. They didn’t rise like an accusation. They sank, slow and calm—like an anchor.
“I’m not,” she whispered.
“You are.”
He stepped closer and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. It was such a familiar gesture—one that used to feel safe. Now, it made her skin itch.
“You’ve got that look, Ivy.”
“What look?”
“That one,” he said quietly, “like you’re two seconds from falling apart and pretending not to.”
Her throat tightened.
He held her gaze for a moment longer, then backed away, giving her space.
“I’m not pushing. Just… don’t shut me out.” His voice softened further. “You don’t have to go through whatever this is alone.”
She nodded, eyes burning, lips trembling—but said nothing.
A few seconds later, he turned and walked down the stairs, the silence that followed louder than any argument.
The moment she heard the faint creak of the front door closing behind him, Ivy’s legs gave out. She collapsed onto the edge of her bed, gripping the blanket like it might hold her together.
Her body shook with silent sobs.
She cried for the secret that threatened to swallow her whole. For the way Jaxon looked at her like he was losing her and didn’t know why. For the man who still haunted her memory, who shouldn’t be anywhere near her life but never seemed far enough away.
And for the part of her that couldn’t let go of any of it.
When her chest stopped heaving, she reached blindly for her phone.
Muscle memory had her searching for Aiden’s name before her brain caught up.
But there was nothing.
Of course not.
She had deleted it. Permanently. Like he never existed.
Except he still did. In every late-night anxiety. In every bathroom trip followed by silent prayers. In every ache in her chest that no amount of sleep or distraction could quiet.
Still holding the phone, Ivy lay back on her bed and stared at the ceiling.
She hated how quiet the house felt. Like it was holding its breath, too.
Her thoughts began to spiral—what if Jaxon found the test? What if he already suspected? Could she even keep this secret for nine whole months?
Would she even make it nine months?
Suddenly, her phone vibrated.
She blinked, sat up, and looked down at the screen.
Unknown Number: I know what you’re hiding.
Ivy’s entire body stilled.
A cold sweat broke across her forehead.
Her mind blanked, but her pulse exploded.
What… the hell?
No name. No details. Just six words.
Six words that felt like a hand around her throat.
She stared at the screen, willing it to change. Willing it to say something else.
It didn’t.
Her first thought was Aiden. But he’d never send something so cryptic. Would he? No… not unless—
Unless he wasn’t alone anymore.
Unless someone else knew.
Her fingers trembled as she typed a reply.
Who is this?
She hit send and waited.
Seconds passed.
Then minutes.
Nothing.
Ivy stood and began pacing the room, phone clutched tight in her fist.
She stopped by the window and peered out. Everything looked normal. The neighbor’s dog barked. The wind nudged a loose flyer across the street. A couple walked by, laughing softly.
But Ivy felt watched. Like the message had peeled open her life and exposed everything to someone she couldn’t see.
She sat back on the bed and pulled her knees to her chest.
Her thoughts twisted in on themselves—what if it wasn’t Aiden? What if it was Jaxon? Had he seen the test? Had he planted the message to see how she’d react?
Or worse.
What if Aiden had told someone?
Her skin prickled.
She didn’t want to believe it. But what did she even know about him anymore?
She deleted his number. She blocked his socials. She was trying to erase him like a bad dream—but secrets like this didn’t just fade.
They grew teeth.
Her phone buzzed again.
She nearly dropped it.
But it wasn’t another message.
It was a call. From the same unknown number.
She stared at it, chest heaving.
Then she declined the call, slammed the phone face-down on the bed, and covered it with a pillow like that would stop it from ringing again.
It didn’t.
This time, she let it go to voicemail.
But no message came.
No words.
Just static silence.
Like a warning.
She wanted to scream. Or run. Or both.
Instead, she sat frozen, listening to the sound of her blood rushing in her ears.
And for the first time since this nightmare began, Ivy realized something bone-deep:
She wasn’t just hiding a secret.
She was being hunted by it.
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