Chapter 161 Where Is My Baby?!

Chapter 161 Where Is My Baby?!
Sarah’s POV

Three months.

Three whole months since Kendrick came home.

Three months of sleepless nights that blurred into one another. Three months of healing and breaking in the same breath. Three months of a pain so deep it lived under my skin.

Life wasn’t just hard anymore. It was cruel.

The internet had branded me a villain before the hospital even discharged us. Everywhere I went, eyes followed. Whispers slithered behind my back. Fingers pointed when they thought I wasn’t looking.

The woman who slept with her sister’s husband.

The homewrecker.

The shameless sister.

I’d tried explaining at first. Tried defending the messy truth. But exhaustion eventually won, and I stopped. People didn’t want facts. They wanted the scandal. They feasted on it.

Yet somehow, life kept moving.

Kendrick made sure of that.

I glanced down at the tiny boy sleeping against my chest, his warm weight and soft breaths the only steady thing left in my world. Three months old. Three months of late-night cries that pierced the dark, of tiny yawns and milky sighs, of little fingers curling around mine like I was his entire universe.

Maybe I was.

And maybe he was mine, too.

We named him Kendrick. A fighter. A survivor. From the very first breath, he’d battled machines and tubes and fear—and he’d won. The doctors said he was healthy now, growing strong. Still, I often found myself watching him sleep, heart clenched, terrified that if I looked away too long, the universe might steal him back.

Trauma had a way of lingering.

Aaron was… complicated.

The scandal had gutted him too. He no longer got roles in the industry anymore. Brand’s ended their deals with him. Strangers called him disgusting, faithless, pathetic. I’d urged him to speak out, to defend himself. But he’d only shaken his head one night while rocking Kendrick, voice low and weary.

“Let them talk Sarah, I’m tired.”

I understood that bone-deep exhaustion.

He had stayed, though. Through my postpartum tears, the panic attacks that left me gasping on the floor, the nights I whispered I couldn’t do this. He stayed—not with romance or perfect words, but with steady hands and quiet presence. Trying to earn back what he’d broken without ever demanding forgiveness.

Sometimes I watched him with our son—the careful way he cradled that small body, the way Kendrick’s cries softened faster in Aaron’s arms. And sometimes it hurt, how natural they looked. Like a family we were never meant to be.

I still hadn’t added Aaron’s name to the birth certificate. Not because he wasn’t Kendrick’s father, but because hope felt too dangerous. I couldn’t risk believing in something only for life to rip it away again.

Edward had been a steady light in the chaos. The moment Kendrick was discharged, he showed up, arms full of groceries and energy. He stayed through the worst crying spells, spoiled his godson rotten, then got pulled back into work. But he called almost every day, his voice a reminder that not everything had fallen apart.

Even Mom had softened. Grandmotherhood seemed to have healed something grief had shattered in her. Or maybe we were all just pretending better these days.

Which was why today mattered.

A small ceremony. No fanfare, no cameras, no drama. Just family, a few trusted faces, good food, and the kind of easy laughter we hadn’t heard in months. Kendrick deserved a day that felt like happiness, even if the world outside was still messy.

“Sarah!”

I turned at the familiar voice. Edward strode through the gate, grin wide and dramatic.
“Where’s my godson? Nobody invited me just for the food.”

A real laugh bubbled out of me—rare and warm. “You’re impossible.”

He ignored me, zeroing in on the baby. “Baby first.”
He scooped Kendrick up with practiced care. “Oh my God,” he whispered, eyes shining. “Look at this little man.”

Kendrick blinked sleepily, then wrapped his tiny hand around Edward’s finger. Edward froze, visibly melting.
“That’s it,” he declared. “He’s officially my favorite human.”

“You say that every time,” I teased.

“Because it’s always true.”

For the first time in forever, the air felt light. Safe.

Then a voice sliced through it.

“Wow.”

My smile vanished.

Michelle.

I hadn’t invited her. I knew I hadn’t.

She glided closer, flawless as always, wearing that polished smile that never reached her eyes. “I heard there was a celebration.”

Aaron tensed beside me.

“You weren’t invited,” I said flatly.

Michelle gave a soft, mocking laugh. “Still as warm as ever.”

I stayed silent. I was too drained for her games.

Her gaze drifted to Kendrick. “Can I see him?”

Edward hesitated, then carefully handed him over. Michelle studied the baby’s face for a long moment.
“Oh,” she murmured, tilting her head. “He really looks like his father.” Her eyes flicked toward Aaron. “No hiding this one. Like father, like son, I guess.”

My jaw clenched. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She shrugged innocently. “Oh, nothing.”

But that smile said everything.

Aaron stepped forward. “That’s enough.”

Michelle raised her hands in mock surrender. “Relax. I’m joking.”

The tension lingered like smoke, but I let it go. For Kendrick. The afternoon continued—plates of food, soft music, genuine laughter. At some point, Kendrick grew fussy.

Michelle lifted him gently. “He’s tired. I’ll put him down for a nap.”

I hesitated, instinct prickling, but nodded. “Okay.”

She disappeared upstairs.

The gathering carried on. Mom chatted with relatives. Edward pilfered food from plates with a mischievous grin. Somehow Aaron ended up beside me on the patio.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

I folded my arms, staring at the garden. “ Just tired.”

“You’ve been saying that for three months.”

A small laugh escaped me. “Because it’s true Aaron.”

He studied my face. “You look happy today.”

I kept my eyes ahead. “Don’t ruin it.”

His lips twitched. I’m trying not to.”

For one fragile second, the space between us felt easy. Quiet. Almost familiar.

Then a voice called from inside: “Family photo!”

Aaron stood. “Come on.”

We headed back in. Everyone gathered around the photographer. He adjusted his camera. “Where’s the baby?”

I blinked. “Oh. Michelle took him upstairs. I’ll get him.”

I climbed the stairs still smiling, heart lighter than it had been in months.

I pushed open the nursery door.

The cot was empty.

Blanket shoved aside.

The world tilted.

Cold panic flooded my veins. I checked the bathroom—nothing. The closet—nothing. The hallway—silent.

No.

No, no, no.

My breath came sharp and shallow. “Kendrick?”

Silence answered.

Then the scream tore from my throat, raw and desperate.

“WHERE IS MY BABY?!”