Chapter 56 056
RYAN
I rang the doorbell again.
And again.
And again.
By the seventh ring, my patience was already gone. My jaw was tight, my shoulders stiff, and my fingers hovered over the bell like I might press it one more time just out of spite. I knew she was home. She always was. She just liked to pretend she wasn’t when she didn’t want to deal with something.
Or someone.
Finally, the door opened a crack.
My mom peered out, her sharp eyes landing on me instantly. That familiar look crossed her face. The one she had worn since I was a kid. The one that said she already knew what I was there for and did not care.
“What?” she said. Her voice was clipped. Flat.
I scoffed and stepped forward quickly, placing my foot just inside the door before she could shut it again. “You weren’t picking up, Mom,” I said. “And you know exactly why.”
Her lips curled slightly. Just a small smirk. Controlled. Like she had been waiting for this moment. “What?” she said lightly. “Are you mad I went to see your baby mama?”
I closed my eyes for half a second and took a slow breath. “Mom,” I said, forcing my voice to stay calm, “stop.”
She did stop.
She didn’t argue. Didn’t smile. Didn’t say another word. She turned around and walked back into the living room like she had already won. Like she knew I would follow.
I did.
I shut the door behind me and stood there for a second, looking around the house I grew up in. Everything was the same. Same furniture. Same framed photos. Same smell of polish and lavender in the air. Nothing had changed.
Except me.
She stood by the fireplace with her arms folded, her posture straight and firm. She didn’t sit. She never did when she felt she had the upper hand.
“What do you want from me?” she asked.
I exhaled hard, rubbing a hand over my face. “Why did you go meet Emily, Mom?”
She shrugged like it meant nothing. Like she had asked about the weather. “I just wanted to know how far she was willing to go for her daughter.”
That did it.
I scoffed again, a sharp sound escaping before I could stop it. “Mom, you’re draining her,” I said. “She’s tired. She’s already dealing with so much. And you’re making it worse.”
She went still.
Really still.
It was the kind of stillness that made the air feel thick. Like the room itself was holding its breath. For a moment, no one spoke. Not even the house made a sound. No ticking clock. No distant noise. Just silence pressing in on us.
Then she turned fully toward me.
Not halfway. Not guarded. Fully.
And for the first time since I walked in, she actually looked at me.
Not like a strategist weighing her next move. Not like a woman trying to win a battle. But like my mother. The woman who raised me. The woman who used to kiss my forehead before school and wait up at night when I came home late.
Her eyes softened.
She smiled.
Slowly.
Softly.
Almost sadly.
She stepped closer, closing the space between us, and lifted her hand. Her palm was warm when it touched my cheek. Her thumb brushed my skin gently, the same way it used to when I was little. When I scraped my knee falling off my bike. When I came home crying because someone had said something cruel at school.
That touch caught me off guard.
It loosened something in my chest I did not even realize was locked.
“My baby,” she said quietly. Her voice was softer now. “You still love the girl.”
The words hit me hard.
I swallowed.
I did not step back.
I did not deny it.
“Yes, Mom,” I said honestly. My voice did not shake, but it felt thick in my throat. “I can’t stop loving her.”
The words hung in the air between us.
For a moment, she did not say anything. Her thumb still rested against my cheek. Her eyes searched my face, like she was looking for doubt. Or weakness. Or maybe hoping I would take it back.
I did not.
That was when my dad came out of the study.
I heard his footsteps before I saw him. Slow. Steady. Familiar. He had a newspaper folded under his arm, his reading glasses sitting low on his nose. He stopped when he reached the living room and looked between us.
He took in the scene.
My mom standing close to me.
Her hand on my face.
The tension in my shoulders.
Then he smiled.
It was small.
Proud.
“That’s my son,” he said.
Mom rolled her eyes, but she did not pull her hand away. “Oh, shut up.”
Dad chuckled and stepped closer. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. The gesture was gentle. Loving. Calm. Like he had done it a thousand times before.
“I had a little talk with your mom after the hospital incident,” he said, turning his attention to me. “She told me all about how scared she was your girl was going to dirty you all up again.”
I let out a tired breath and finally stepped away. My legs felt heavy as I dropped onto the couch. The cushions dipped under my weight. I leaned back and stared at the ceiling for a second, trying to collect myself.
“She loves me, Mom,” I said quietly. “We both know that.”
I lowered my gaze and looked at her again. “And I just want you to please give her a break.”
Her expression shifted slowly. The sharp confidence she always carried began to fade. The hardness softened. The edge dulled.
Her shoulders dropped.
Then she sighed.
It was long.
Heavy.
“Fine then,” she said. “You all can gang up on me or whatever.”
Her voice lacked its usual bite. She turned away from us and walked out of the room without another word. Her footsteps echoed softly down the hall until they faded completely.
The silence returned.
Dad walked over and sat beside me on the couch. He set the newspaper aside and leaned back, one arm resting along the back of the couch. He looked at me from the side, thoughtful.
“You sure you still love her?” he asked quietly.
“Yes,” I said without hesitation.
There was no doubt in my answer. No pause. No second thought.
He nodded once. “Then get your girl, son.”
I turned my head to look at him. “Dad—”
“What?” He raised an eyebrow. “If you don’t, they’re going to get her from you.”
I frowned slightly. “They?”
He gave a small shrug. “The world. Other men.”
Then he added, almost casually, “Emily is a pretty girl.”
My chest tightened at the sound of her name.
“Yes,” I said slowly. “She is, Dad.”
He smiled and clapped my shoulder. The gesture was firm. Reassuring. “That’s good then. Your mom will come around.”