Spiral 2
1024 Words
Addison's P.O.V.
I fumbled with the edge of my cardigan, glancing through the narrow crack in Mia’s door. Her small body was curled under the covers, arms wrapped around Mr Button, soft snores barely audible in the quiet. She was asleep. Peaceful.
Unlike me.
Sleep had abandoned me the moment Adam looked at Mia today with those sharp, knowing eyes. It was like he recognised her, not just her face, but her essence. The way she tilted her head. The spark in her eyes. That same curiosity he used to wear in his own gaze when he was younger.
It was like looking into a mirror.
But he couldn’t know. He couldn’t really know.
I closed her door gently and leaned against the wall, chest tight. My arms wrapped around my middle like that could somehow keep the secrets inside from bursting out.
Mia’s birth records listed Nathaniel Rowland as her father.
And she was born eleven months after conception.
The math didn’t add up for anyone who wasn’t there. Anyone who hadn’t lived through it.
When my due date came and went, the doctor called it a physiological delay. I wasn’t in labour, but she was healthy. So they recommended induced labour. Said it was safe. Normal.
I’d known she was overdue. Knew the risk. But if my daughter wasn't ready to come into the world, then I can't force her to.
She wasn’t ready, and neither was I.
I refused.
I stopped going to appointments. Stopped picking up my doctor’s calls. I told Nate I was still going and fed him updates I’d pieced together from articles and pregnancy blogs.
I told Nate I was only eight months along, and surprisingly, he believed me. He never questioned the timeline I had mentioned earlier. He didn’t press for details or do the math. Maybe he trusted me too much, or maybe he just didn’t want to argue. But when the supposed ninth month came and went with no signs of labour, no contractions, no hospital visits, nothing, his concern shifted into suspicion. That’s when the questions started. Quiet at first, then more persistent.
Questions I wasn’t prepared to answer.
Then, one day, he saw me sitting alone in the park, unconcerned, when I was supposed to be at an antenatal appointment. He walked straight up to me and asked what was going on. I said nothing. Just kept my lips sealed, staring ahead like I hadn't heard him.
But silence didn’t protect me for long. He found out anyway.
I always believed that doctors weren’t allowed to disclose patient information. It was supposed to be confidential, sacred. But those rules didn’t seem to apply to Nate. He found a way around them like he always did when he wanted something badly enough.
He begged me to go back for a week. To induce. But I wouldn’t. Not until my baby was ready.
Eventually, they found another way—under the guise of "natural methods". A change in diet. More physical activity. Long walks. Prenatal yoga. Soothing teas.
Two weeks later, Mia arrived. Healthy. Beautiful. Mine.
Adam wouldn’t find out, I reassured myself. Not unless he really dug. And even then, the eleven-month pregnancy would throw him off.
But if he went deeper...
If he discovered that Nate and I didn’t even meet until I was already five months pregnant, on that trip to Costa Rica... I was done for.
I swallowed hard, anxiety clawing at my throat. Fine. I could lie. Say it was a careless one-night stand back in college. Say I didn’t know who the father was.
Anything to keep the truth buried.
I shook my head. That would never hold up if Adam kept pushing. He was too smart. Too stubborn.
God, what if he asks for a paternity test?
My plans would not work, but I was ready to deny the obvious until there was overwhelming evidence.
I dropped to the floor outside Mia’s door, my back pressed to the wall, breath shallow.
I wish Nate was here. He’d know what to say, how to soothe this firestorm before it spread. But even Nathaniel doesn't know that Adam Scott is Mia's biological father.
The door creaked.
"Mummy?"
I looked up quickly. Mia stood there, tiny and barefoot in her unicorn pyjamas, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.
"What is it, Panky?" I asked softly, kneeling and holding out my arms.
She walked straight into my arms, nestling against my chest like she used to do. I swallowed the tremor rising in my throat and tucked my fear away for another day. Right now, I just had to be her mummy.
"I had a bad dream," she whispered.
I kissed her temple, brushing her curls back. "Does that mean we’re having a sleepover?"
She nodded solemnly.
Mia could never fall back asleep after a nightmare. She always ended up finishing the night in mine and Nate's bed.
"Okay, let's go. I will read something for you."
We stood together, her small hand in mine, as I led her to my room. She climbed onto the bed like she’d done hundreds of times before, pulling the covers over her lap as I picked out one of her favourite storybooks.
"I like dad reading to me," she mumbled, voice muffled by the pillow.
"Well, he’s not here now, so you’ll have to manage me," I said, trying to keep my voice light. I pinched her cheek playfully and she giggled.
“Will he be here for my birthday?” She asked, looking up at me with hope-filled eyes.
"Of course he will," I replied. "He wouldn’t miss it for anything in the world."
But as I opened the book, my hands trembled. Not from fear, but from the weight of all the lies I was stacking like bricks around my daughter’s life.
Mia rested her head against my side, her breathing evening out as I read. But I wasn’t really seeing the words on the page.
All I could think about was how everything I’d built was hanging by a thread.
And how easily Adam could unravel it all.
- Writer
