An answer
1033 Words
BRAHAM’S POV
Millie was different.
I'd noticed it the moment she walked out of that prison, past the swarm of reporters, and into the car. There was something in her eyes…something hard and determined that hadn't been there before. Or maybe it had always been there, buried under years of hurt and fear, and now it was finally breaking through.
And I could see it even through watching it on my phone since I couldn't go with her. I had to stay with our son, Lionel.
She sat across from me now in the living room, curled up on the couch with a cup of tea she hadn't touched. Leo was upstairs doing his lessons with Renan, who had volunteered to be his private tutor for now. The house was quiet except for the occasional sound of the antique clock ticking.
"You want to talk about it?" I asked.
She looked up at me, then back down at her tea. "I told him everything. Everything I should have said years ago."
"How did that feel?"
"Liberating." She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "And terrifying. I told him I was going to make sure he rotted in prison. That I was coming after all of them… Sabrina, Martha, Silas. Everyone."
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "And you're sure that's what you want?"
"I'm sure." Her voice was steady. "I'm tired of running, Braham. I'm tired of being afraid. They took everything from me once. I'm not letting them do it again."
"Even if it means dragging all of this into the public eye? Even if it means Leo seeing his mother's name in every headline?"
She flinched. "I know the risks. But what's the alternative? Let them get away with it? Let them think they can keep hurting people without consequences?"
"I'm not saying that." I moved to sit beside her on the couch. "I'm just saying I'm worried about you. About what this is costing you."
"It's already cost me everything," she said quietly. "My childhood. My mother's legacy. Four years of my life. What more can they take?"
"Your peace," I said. "Your happiness. Your ability to move forward."
She turned to look at me, really look at me. "Is that what you think I'm doing? Dwelling in the past?"
"No. I think you're fighting for justice. But I also think..." I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. "I think you're putting yourself and Leo at risk. The media attention, the forthcoming court cases, the public scrutiny. These people are desperate, Millie. Desperate people do desperate things."
"I know." She set down her tea and wrapped her arms around herself. "I've thought about that. About what they might do. But I can't live in fear anymore. I won't."
"Then let me help you." I reached over and took her hand. "Let me be there for you. For both of you."
She squeezed my hand, and for a moment, I saw something flicker in her eyes. Something soft and vulnerable that she quickly tried to hide.
"You've already done so much," she said. "More than I ever had the right to ask for."
"You didn't ask. I chose it. And I'd choose it again. Every time."
The words hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. This wasn't the time. This wasn't the place. But when would it be? When would there ever be a perfect moment to tell her how I felt?
"Braham..." she started, but I cut her off.
"I mean it, Millie. Whatever you need. Whatever Leo needs. I'm here."
She blinked rapidly, and I realized she was fighting back tears. "Why? Why do you care so much?"
Because I love you. Because I've loved you since the moment I saw you broken and alone in that hospital. Because watching you rebuild yourself has been the greatest privilege of my life. Because you're my mate.
But I didn't say any of that. Instead, I said, "Because you matter. You and Leo both matter the most to me."
She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, I heard footsteps on the stairs.
Leo.
He appeared in the doorway, still in his pajamas even though it was past noon. His hair was sticking up on one side, and he had that serious expression he got sometimes when he was thinking too hard about something.
"Hey, buddy," I said, forcing a smile. "Lessons done already?"
Leo didn't answer. He walked into the room slowly, his eyes moving between Millie and me. Between our hands, still clasped together on the couch. Between the way we were sitting so close, the way the air around us felt charged with something he probably couldn't name but definitely sensed.
He stopped a few feet away from us.
Then in the most childish way ever he asked, “can I ask you both a question?”
“Sure baby, you can tell mummy anything bothering you,” Millie sounded so assuring that all I had to do was nod to affirm my support.
And then he asked the question that made my entire world stop.
"Braham, are you my real dad?"
The silence that followed was deafening.
Millie's hand tightened around mine so hard I thought she might break my fingers. I could feel her entire body go rigid beside me.
I stared at Leo, at his small face with those eyes that were far too old for a three-year-old boy. Eyes that had seen too much, understood too much.
My mouth opened, but no words came out.
How do you answer that? How do you tell a child the truth when the truth is so complicated, so messy, so painful?
Leo stood there, waiting. Patient. Like he already knew the answer and was just giving us a chance to be honest with him.
Millie made a small sound…something between a gasp and a sob.
And I realized that everything…every conversation we'd been dancing around, every feeling we'd been hiding, every truth we'd been avoiding…was about to come crashing down.
Because Leo deserved an answer.
And we couldn't hide anymore.
- Writer
