Chapter 59 The ghost in the signal
The afternoon air was crisp, carrying the scent of impending rain and the exhaust of idling engines as I stood outside the brightly colored gates of Leo’s daycare. I checked my watch, my heart giving a small, fluttering kick against my ribs. It had been nearly twenty-four hours since the jet had disappeared into the clouds, and the weight of the secret I carried—the tiny, flickering life inside me—felt heavier than the trophy I had won.
My phone buzzed in my hand. My breath hitched when I saw the caller ID. Victor.
"I’m over the Atlantic," his voice came through, a bit grainy but still possessing that deep, resonant hum that made my skin tingle. "The satellite phone is temperamental, but I couldn't go another hour without hearing your voice."
"Victor," I breathed, leaning against a brick pillar, away from the chatter of other parents. "How are you feeling? Are you resting?"
"I’m being poked and prodded by a flight nurse who isn't nearly as beautiful or as stubborn as you," he chuckled, though I could hear the underlying fatigue in his tone. "I’m thinking about the bucket list, El. I’m thinking about the midnight gallery. Hold onto that for me, will you? Keep the light on."
"I’m holding everything for you," I whispered, my hand instinctively resting on my stomach. "Just focus on the surgery. Everything here is... it's fine. We're waiting for you."
"I love you, sunshine. I’ll call when we touch down in Istanbul."
The line went dead with a soft click. I pulled the phone away, staring at the blank screen with a mixture of longing and guilt. I wanted to tell him. I wanted to scream it across the ocean. But the uncertainty of the fatherhood—the shadow of the silver car—kept the words locked in my throat.
I was about to put the phone back in my bag when it vibrated again. An unknown number.
My pulse quickened. My first thought was the hospital. My second was Mrs. Jenkins. I swiped to answer, my voice cautious. "Hello?"
"Elena."
The world seemed to stop spinning. The sound of children laughing and the honking of cars faded into a dull, distant roar. I knew that voice. It was the voice that had whispered promises in the dark, the voice that had shouted in anger before the screech of tires and the breaking of glass.
"Liam?" I managed to say, my grip tightening on the phone.
"It’s me," he said. His voice was different—thin, raspy, and punctuated by a heavy, labored breath. "My mother told me I shouldn't call yet... that I’m not strong enough. But I had to. I saw the paper, El. I saw the photo of you in that red dress."
I couldn't speak. I felt like I was back in the passenger seat, frozen as the headlights rushed toward us.
"Congratulations," he continued, a ghost of his old charm flickering through the rasp. "The scholarship... Paris. You always were too big for this town. I’m proud of you, Elena. I really am."
I leaned my head against the brick, my eyes stinging. "Liam... you’re awake. I didn't think... the doctors said..."
"I’m a fighter, remember?" He let out a weak, dry cough. "I have a lot of broken pieces, but I’m here. I just wanted to hear your voice. I wanted to make sure you were okay."
I waited for the second shoe to drop. I waited for him to mention the pregnancy, to throw his mother’s discovery in my face, to claim me back through the tie of a child. But the words never came. He talked about the physical therapy, about the fog in his brain, about how the hospital food was terrible.
He didn't know.
Mrs. Jenkins hadn't told him. Perhaps she was waiting for a more strategic moment, or perhaps she was still reeling from the shock herself.
"I have to go, Liam," I said, my voice trembling. "The nurse is coming to get Leo. I... I’m glad you’re awake. Truly."
"Elena? Wait," he said, his voice dropping. "I’m going to get better. And when I do, I want to make things right. I want to explain everything about that night. About why I was driving like that."
"It doesn't matter anymore, Liam," I said, a sudden spark of the fire Victor had lit in me returning. "The past is gone. Focus on your recovery. Goodbye."
I hung up before he could respond, my heart racing so fast I felt dizzy.
"Auntie El!"
Leo came sprinting through the gates, his backpack bouncing against his small shoulders. I knelt down, catching him in a hug that felt like an anchor in a storm. He smelled like apple juice and crayons, the pure, uncomplicated scent of a life that hadn't been broken yet.
As I walked him to the car, my mind was a whirlwind. Liam was awake, and he was still reaching for me. Victor was in the air, fighting for a future he didn't know was already changing. And Mrs. Jenkins was a ticking time bomb, holding a secret that could blow both of their worlds apart.
I buckled Leo into his car seat, my movements mechanical.
"Auntie El, why are you crying?" Leo asked, reaching out a sticky hand to touch my cheek.
"I'm not crying, baby," I lied, wiping my eyes and forcing a smile. "I just have a bit of dust in my eyes. Let's go home and see if Maya has any snacks, okay?"
I got into the driver's seat and stared at the steering wheel. The thin blue line was still in my mind, a boundary between the life I had and the life I was about to enter. Liam didn't know. Victor didn't know. But the truth was growing inside me, and soon, it wouldn't matter who told whom. The world would see.
I started the engine, the familiar vibration of the car reminding me of the night of the accident. But I wasn't in the passenger seat anymore. I was the one driving. And this time, I wasn't going to let anyone else take the wheel.