Chapter 73 73
Kate's POV
My whole body shook when I heard the question. It felt like the ground cracked open under the bench and left me hanging there—suspended, no air, nothing to hold on to.
“Could it be my son?” Elliot’s words drove into my chest like a slow knife, twisting deeper with every turn. I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t even look at him. I just felt hot tears rolling down my cheeks, fast and unstoppable, while I tried to breathe and couldn’t.
He shot to his feet. The bench creaked under the sudden shift. He stood right in front of me, blocking the sunlight filtering through the tree leaves. His shadow swallowed me completely.
“Katherine,” he said, voice louder, harder. “Look at me.”
I couldn’t. I covered my face with my hands, fingers trembling against my eyelids, trying to hold back the sobs that wouldn’t listen. I felt like I was drowning. Like everything I’d built these past months—the house, the marriage, the illusion that I could be a good mother, a good wife—was crumbling right there in that small square, under some random tree.
He shouted, voice cracking on the last syllable:
“Stop crying for once and answer me! Is that baby you’re carrying mine?”
The shout made me lift my head. His eyes were red, shining, full of a mix of rage and panic I’d never seen in him before. He dropped to his knees in front of me—hard, knees hitting the cobblestones. He grabbed both my hands, yanking them away from my face. His fingers shook as much as mine.
“Tell me,” he whispered now, voice broken, almost pleading. “Are we having a baby together?”
I looked at him. I saw the fear on his face. Not the fear of a man who wants to run, but the fear of someone realizing for the first time that there might be something irreversible between us. Something that can’t be erased with denials or distance.
“It can’t be,” I said, voice barely a thread. “The age difference is too big, Elliot. I have my marriage. I have Andrew. I have a life with him. You can’t… you can’t just show up and claim something that isn’t yours.”
He squeezed my hands tighter, knuckles white.
“Could you really do that to me? Hide that I’m about to have a child with you?”
The tears fell faster. I couldn’t stop them. I shook my head, but it wasn’t a clear answer. It was just blind, desperate denial.
“I can’t… I can’t have a child with you.”
He let go of my hands like they burned. Stayed kneeling for another second, staring at me with wide eyes, then dropped onto the bench beside me. He buried his hands in his hair, fingers digging in, pulling hard. He was breathing fast, like he couldn’t get enough air.
“I can’t believe you’re this cold,” he said, voice low and shattered. “This cruel to me. You’re… you’re a horrible person, Katherine. A really bad person!”
“I’m not cold,” I whispered. “I’m not cruel. I just… can’t.”
He lifted his head slowly. Looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time.
“Yes, you are. You’re a cold, heartless woman who only cares about herself!” His voice rose again. “So damn cruel. How can you sit here crying like I don’t have the right to know?”
“You don’t have the right,” I said, almost out of breath. “You don’t have the right because in your head you still think we could be something. Do you really believe this could work? That you could be a father? That I could leave Andrew and have a life with you?”
I moved a little closer. Touched his arm carefully.
“You wouldn’t be ready to be a father, Elliot. You’re too young. You have your whole life ahead—university, friends, Emma… all of it. You can’t carry this. It wouldn’t be fair to you. Or to me. Or to the baby.”
Silence. We both went quiet. Almost twenty minutes.
The sun climbed higher, the square started filling with people walking dogs, kids running, distant conversations. We stayed there on the bench, not touching, not looking straight at each other. Just breathing the same heavy air.
In the end I spoke, voice low, almost inaudible.
“I’m not completely sure.”
He turned his head slowly.
“Of what?”
“After they removed the IUD… the first time I was with you. That last time, in the car. Then… I was with Andrew. The same day. I don’t know… I don’t know whose it is.”
His eyes widened. He went completely still, like he couldn’t process what he’d just heard.
“So… it could be mine. There’s a real chance, Katherine. You were with me first!”
I barely nodded. The smallest movement.
“It could be. It could be yours. It’s just a possibility.”
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head down.
“We need to do a test. A paternity test. We have to know.”
“No,” I said quickly, almost shouting. “No. That’s never going to happen.”
He looked up.
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t have a child with you, Elliot. That’s never going to happen!” My voice came out louder than I meant. “I’m not doing a test. I’m not finding out. I’m not letting this become something that ties us together forever. The baby is Andrew’s. In my head, in my life, in everything that matters… it’s Andrew’s. And that’s how it’s staying.”
He stared at me for a long second, like he was searching for a crack in my words. Then he shook his head slowly.
“You can’t decide that alone.”
“Yes, I can. And I am.”