Chapter 32 Thirty Two
Helen stopped short in the doorway.
For a second, she simply stood there, taking in the sight before her—clothes folded neatly on the bed, others scattered carelessly, a half-zipped travel bag yawning open like a mouth waiting to be filled. Antonia stood with her back to the door, holding up a blouse, her movements deliberate but tense.
“Antonia,” Helen said slowly, disbelief threading through her voice. “What are you doing?”
Antonia stiffened. Just slightly. Enough to give herself away.
She didn’t turn around immediately. She folded the blouse with care, placed it inside the bag, then zipped a side pocket shut before finally facing her sister.
“Packing,” she said simply.
Helen’s brows drew together. “Packing for what?”
“You know for what.”
“No,” Helen replied, stepping fully into the room now. “I don’t. Because last time we talked, you said you were thinking about relocating. You didn’t say anything about leaving now.”
Antonia exhaled, already tired. “Plans change.”
Helen crossed her arms. “And you decided all this without telling me?”
“I’m telling you now.”
“That’s not the same thing,” Helen shot back. Her gaze dropped briefly to Antonia’s midsection, subtle but unmistakable. “You’re pregnant. You’re resigning. You’re moving cities. And somehow you think you can do all this alone?”
Antonia turned away again, reaching for another dress. “I’m not alone. I have you.”
Helen scoffed softly. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know exactly what you meant,” Antonia said, sharper now. “And the answer is still no.”
Helen sighed, rubbing her temples. “Antonia, listen to yourself. You’re uprooting your entire life, running away from your job, your support system, and refusing to tell the father of your child—”
“He can't be the father,” Antonia snapped, spinning around. “He’s my boss. Or rather—he was.”
“That doesn’t erase what happened,” Helen said firmly. “Or the baby.”
Antonia’s hands curled into fists at her sides. “I know that.”
“Then why are you doing this?” Helen demanded. “Why won’t you at least tell him? Kennedy deserves to know.”
“No,” Antonia said, her voice steady but strained. “He doesn’t.”
Helen stared at her. “He doesn’t deserve to know he’s going to be a father?”
“He made it very clear he didn’t want anything with me,” Antonia shot back. “He called what happened between us a mistake. A mistake doesn’t get informed. It gets erased.”
“That’s not fair,” Helen said. “To him or to the child.”
“What’s not fair,” Antonia replied bitterly, “is forcing a man into responsibility he never asked for. What’s not fair is tying my child’s existence to rejection before they even take their first breath.”
Helen softened. “Antonia—”
“I’m not telling him,” Antonia repeated, more firmly now. “And I’m not changing my mind.”
Helen shook her head slowly. “You’re scared.”
“Yes,” Antonia admitted without hesitation. “I am. And that’s exactly why I’m doing this.”
She resumed packing, her movements faster now, rougher.
Helen watched her for a moment, then spoke again, quieter. “You’re running.”
Antonia froze.
Then she laughed—a short, humorless sound. “And what would you have me do instead? Stay? Carry his child under his nose? Watch him look at me every day with indifference? Or worse—pity?”
Helen swallowed. “I think you should think this through.”
“I have,” Antonia snapped suddenly, spinning around again, frustration boiling over. “I’ve thought about it every single night since I found out. I’ve thought about the shame, the whispers, the expectations. I’ve thought about how people would look at me. At my child.”
Her chest heaved. “And I’ve thought about him. About Kennedy. About how cold his eyes were when he said it was a mistake.”
Helen took a step closer. “You don’t know how he’d react now.”
“Yes, I do,” Antonia said sharply. “And I won’t humiliate myself by begging a man to step up.”
“That’s not what this is—”
“And I’m not planning on getting a man to marry me just because I’m pregnant,” Antonia blurted, the words flying out before she could stop them. “I won’t trap someone into a life they don’t want. I can see how badly that worked out for you.”
Helen flinched as if struck.
Silence crashed between them.
Antonia’s eyes widened as realization hit. “Helen… I'm sorry. I didn’t—”
“So that’s what you think?” Helen asked quietly. “That I trapped my husband because I was pregnant?”
“No,” Antonia said quickly. “That’s not what I meant.”
“That’s exactly what you meant,” Helen replied, hurt flickering openly across her face now.
Antonia’s shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry. That was unfair. I shouldn’t have said that.” she said softly. “But I don't want to make the same mistake.”
"Marrying Ernest wasn't a mistake. I love him and I know he loves me too."
"Then why is he never around these days?" Antonia quickly asked, and then slammed her palm over her mouth to shut it.
Helen studied her sister for a long moment, then sighed. “You’re hurting,” she said finally. “And you’re lashing out.”
“I know,” Antonia whispered. “I’m sorry.”
Helen nodded once, then pulled Antonia into a tight hug. Antonia stiffened briefly before melting into it, tears pricking her eyes.
“I just don’t want you to regret this,” Helen murmured. “I don’t want you to look back and wish you’d done things differently.”
Antonia pulled back, wiping her eyes. “I already regret a lot of things,” she said quietly. “But this isn’t one of them.”
Helen searched her face. “Where are you going? Have you told mother?”
Antonia hesitated, then answered. “No. I'm going to our cousin Lucy's place.. She’s already prepared to receive me.”
Helen nodded slowly. “That’s far.”
“That’s the point.”
They stood in silence for a moment.
Then Antonia zipped the bag shut and straightened. “Thank you,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “For everything. For standing by me. For not judging me—even when you don’t agree.”
Helen smiled sadly. “You’re my sister. I’ll always stand by you.”
They hugged again, longer this time.
When Antonia pulled away, she picked up the bag, slinging it over her shoulder.
“I’ll call you,” she promised.
“You better,” Helen replied, managing a small smile. "And make up your mind quickly on when to tell mother."
Antonia nodded, took one last look around the room, then turned and walked toward the door.
She didn’t look back.
Because if she did, she might not find the strength to leave.
And leaving, no matter how painful, was the only way she knew how to protect the life growing inside her.
And her own.