Chapter 38 Thirty Eight
Antonia stood there for a few seconds after Austin disappeared down the hallway, the soft echo of his footsteps fading into the building’s quiet. Only when the door across the hall clicked shut did she finally turn back inside.
Lucy was waiting.
Leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. Smiling like she had just witnessed something extremely entertaining.
“Don’t start,” Antonia warned, already kicking off her shoes.
Lucy’s grin widened. “Oh, I’m absolutely starting. You smiled.”
Antonia paused. “I always smile.”
“No,” Lucy said, pushing off the wall and following her into the living room. “That smile? That was different. That was a ‘my life is complicated but I enjoyed that far more than I planned to’ smile.”
Antonia shook her head, but the denial felt weak even to her own ears. “It was just a walk.”
“Mhm. And the way you looked back after he turned the corner?”
“I was being polite.”
Lucy laughed. “You’re terrible at lying.”
Antonia sank onto the couch, suddenly tired. “Lucy… I can’t afford to read into things. Not now. I don’t even know what my life looks like yet.”
Lucy’s teasing softened. She sat beside her, nudging her knee gently. “I know. And I’m not saying jump into anything. I’m just saying—maybe let yourself breathe.”
Antonia swallowed. “Breathing feels dangerous lately.”
Lucy studied her carefully, then nodded. “Okay. One day at a time.”
For a moment, silence stretched comfortably between them. Then Lucy stood. “I’m going to shower. Try not to overthink the entire universe while I’m gone.”
Antonia huffed out a small laugh. “No promises.”
Left alone again, she leaned back against the couch, one hand unconsciously drifting to her stomach. The smile faded.
Austin was kind. Easy. Safe.
And that terrified her.
Because kindness had never been the thing that unraveled her life.
Also, it was quiet too early to get involved in anything romantic.
She still wasn't over Kennedy.
At that moment her phone buzzed with a message suddenly on the cushion beside her.
She froze.
Her heart jumped before she could stop it.
Then she thought;
Maybe it was a delivery.
Maybe it was nothing.
Or maybe it was... Austin.
The phone buzzed again.
Slowly, she picked it up.
Her breath caught. She stared at the screen, every nerve ending alert, her mind already racing as she saw the name display as the sender.
Kennedy Walton.
The name alone dragged the air from her lungs.
Her first instinct was to put the phone down. To pretend she hadn’t seen it. To let the silence stand between them the way she had carefully intended when she left. But her heart was already racing, her pulse loud in her ears, her body betraying her resolve.
Why now?
Why had he waited until she was finally beginning to breathe again?
Her finger trembled slightly as she tapped the screen.
The message opened.
It was long.
Longer than she expected. Longer than she was prepared for.
She inhaled shakily and began to read.
Antonia,
I wasn’t sure if I should send this. I still don’t know if I should. But I felt it would be wrong to stay silent.
I hope wherever you are, you’re safe. I hope you’re at peace.
I want to apologize for everything. For the confusion. For the hurt. For not handling things the way I should have. You didn’t deserve that.
What happened between us was complicated, and I know I didn’t make it easier. I carry my own regrets, and I will continue to live with them.
I don’t want to disrupt your new life. I won’t reach out again after this. I just wanted you to know that I wish you well. Truly.
You deserve happiness.
Take care, Antonia.
Her chest tightened with every line.
By the time she reached the end, her vision had blurred, and she hadn’t realized tears had slipped down her cheeks until one landed on the phone screen, splashing softly against the glass.
That was it.
No fight.
No confession.
No plea.
No I made a mistake and I can’t live without you.
A hollow laugh escaped her, brittle and quiet.
Of course.
Some foolish, fragile part of her had hoped, no, expected something else. Regret so heavy it bent him. Words soaked in desperation.
A man finally brave enough to admit he cared for her, enough to ask her to come back.
But Kennedy had never been that man.
Even now, he chose dignity over desire. Control over chaos. Pride over vulnerability.
He was apologizing.
Letting her go.
Again.
And somehow, that hurt more than silence ever could.
She pressed the phone to her chest, eyes closing as a sob threatened to break free.
“You never fight,” she whispered into the quiet room. “Not for me.”
He sounded exactly the way she remembered him, measured, restrained, and resolved.
There was never going to be space in his heart for her.
Not when it was already occupied by guilt, ghosts, and a past he refused to release.
Antonia exhaled slowly, wiping her tears with the heel of her palm. Her other hand drifted instinctively to her stomach, resting there protectively, grounding her.
“I did the right thing,” she murmured to herself. Saying it aloud made it feel more real. More solid.
Leaving had been an act of self-preservation.
Not telling him about the pregnancy had been an act of love.
Her child would not grow up feeling like an afterthought. Would not be tethered to a man who would always choose restraint over risk.
She stared at the message one last time, then locked her phone.
No reply.
She didn't need to.
This was closure.
Not the kind she wanted.
But the kind she needed.
\---
Miles away, Kennedy Walton sat on the edge of his bed, phone clenched tightly in his hand, his heart pounding as if it were trying to escape his chest.
The message had been sent.
Delivered.
Read.
The moment the screen confirmed it had gone through, regret slammed into him with brutal force.
“Damn it,” he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair.
Why had he written it like that?
Why had he been so careful, so restrained, so him?
He had rewritten the message five times before sending it. Deleted sentences that sounded too emotional. Removed words that hinted at longing. Erased the part where he almost confessed that he thought about her every night.
His ego had stepped in, firm and familiar.
Don’t beg.
Don’t weaken yourself.
Let her go with dignity.
And he had listened.
Now he sat there, staring at the phone, wishing that he hadn’t.
What if she thought he didn’t care enough?
What if she read it and felt dismissed instead of understood?
What if that message was the final proof that he would always choose control over honesty?
His chest tightened painfully.
“I should’ve said more,” he whispered into the empty room. “I should’ve fought.”
But the silence on the other end was unforgiving.
No reply came.
And with every passing second, Kennedy realized the truth settling heavily in his bones:
His pride had won again.
And this time, it might have cost him Antonia forever.