Chapter 73 Seventy Three
By evening, the decision had solidified into motion. Kennedy hugged his mother tightly, longer than usual. Then he turned to Sofia.
“Thank you,” he said again.
She smiled up at him. “We’ll talk.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “We will.”
As he walked away, suitcase rolling behind him, Kennedy felt a strange mix of relief and unease.
He told himself it was the right choice.
He didn’t see Sofia’s expression change the moment his back was turned.
Later that night, the apartment was quiet.
Priscilla had gone to bed early, leaving Sofia alone in the living room, legs tucked beneath her on the couch, her phone glowing softly in her hand.
She wasn’t scrolling aimlessly.
She was planning.
Sofia replayed the day in her mind, every word Kennedy had said, every hesitation, every truth he had confessed.
I almost kissed her.
That sentence still burned.
She had smiled. She had nodded. She had taken it gracefully.
But inside, something had shifted.
Because Sofia wasn’t naïve.
She knew exactly what Antonia represented.
Not just a woman from Kennedy’s past—but an unfinished story. A love that had never been given closure.
And pregnant?
That detail unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.
How come Kennedy was still interested in Antonia despite she was heavily pregnant and engaged to be married to another man?
And why was Antonia still giving him audience?
There was a missing piece in their story, and she would have to figure it out.
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Morning crept in slowly, pale sunlight filtering through the thin curtains of Antonia’s bedroom. She had barely slept. When she did, her dreams were fractured—Kennedy’s voice, Austin’s ultimatum.
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
The tension from the night before, still hanging thick in the air. Antonia lay there for a long time, staring at the ceiling, listening to the distant hum of traffic outside, trying to steady her breathing.
Her phone buzzed on the bedside table.
She flinched instinctively before realizing it was just the time—9:17 a.m.
Enough.
She pushed herself upright with effort, wincing slightly as a dull ache settled low in her abdomen. Pregnancy cramps, she told herself automatically. Stress. Exhaustion. Fear.
Everything inside her felt tangled.
There was only one person she could talk to right now without pretending.
Her sister.
Antonia reached for her phone and scrolled until she found the familiar name.
Helen.
She hesitated, thumb hovering over the call button.
What if Helen was tired of her mess?
What if she judged her?
What if she said the one thing Antonia wasn’t ready to hear?
Antonia swallowed hard.
She pressed call.
It rang twice before Helen answered.
“Antonia?” Helen’s voice came through warm but alert. “Hey. Is everything okay?”
That did it.
Antonia’s throat tightened immediately, emotion rising too fast for her to stop it. “I… I don’t know.”
There was a pause. Then Helen said gently, “Okay. Talk to me.”
Antonia sank back against the headboard, pulling the duvet closer around herself like a shield. “So much has happened,” she whispered. “And I feel like I’m suffocating under it all.”
Helen didn’t interrupt. She never did when Antonia sounded like this.
“Kennedy attended the baby shower,” Antonia said finally.
Helen inhaled sharply on the other end of the line.
“Yes,” Antonia said quickly. “That Kennedy, and he didn't come alone.”
Silence followed, heavy but not judgmental.
“Who was with him?” Helen prompted softly.
“Another woman. His girlfriend. Sofia.” Antonia answered, her voice trembling now.
Helen cursed under her breath. “Oh, Tonia…”
“It was awful,” Antonia said, tears spilling freely now. “Seeing him there. Seeing him with her. Watching him congratulate me for a child he doesn’t know is his.”
Helen went quiet.
Antonia squeezed her eyes shut. “I almost broke, Helen. I almost told him everything.”
“But you didn’t,” Helen said carefully.
“No,” Antonia replied. “I lied. Again.”
Helen exhaled slowly. “What happened?”
So Antonia told her.
About the hallway. The tension. The way Kennedy had looked at her like he still saw her. The way he’d asked if she loved Austin. The way their lips had almost met before Austin walked in.
She told her about Austin’s anger afterward.
About the argument.
The ultimatum.
Me… or the truth.
By the time she finished, her cheeks were wet, her chest aching like something fragile had cracked open inside her.
Helen was quiet for a long moment.
Antonia braced herself.
Finally, Helen spoke. “You can’t keep doing this.”
The words landed softly—but firmly.
“I know,” Antonia whispered.
“No,” Helen said gently but insistently. “I don’t think you do. Not fully.”
Antonia frowned, wiping her face. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you’re telling yourself you’re protecting everyone,” Helen said. “But what you’re really doing is carrying the weight alone. And it’s crushing you.”
Antonia swallowed hard.
“Helen, if I tell the truth…” Her voice cracked. “Everything will fall apart.”
Helen sighed. “Or it might finally fall into place.”
Antonia shook her head even though Helen couldn’t see it. “Austin will lose his job. Priscilla will feel betrayed. Kennedy—” Her breath hitched. “Kennedy will hate me.”
“Yes,” Helen said softly, “but he’ll finally understand.”
Antonia laughed bitterly. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It’s not simple,” Helen replied. “It’s necessary.”
Antonia pressed her hand to her belly as the baby shifted, a gentle reminder of the life growing inside her. “I wanted to give him stability. A peaceful beginning.”
“And what kind of peace is built on lies?” Helen asked quietly. "I warned you about these from the very beginning."
That question lodged itself deep in Antonia’s chest.
“I didn’t plan for any of this,” Antonia said, her voice small. “I didn’t plan to fall in love. I didn’t plan to get pregnant. I didn’t plan to lie to everyone.”
“I know,” Helen said. “But you agreed to lie. To pretend as what you're not. Not just once, but twice.”
Antonia stayed silent at the other end.
Helen’s voice softened. “Antonia, you’re not a bad person. You’re scared. And you’re human. But the longer you keep this secret, the more power it has over you.”
“I don’t know how to fix this,” Antonia admitted.
“You don’t fix it,” Helen said. “You face it.”
Antonia’s breathing quickened. “And if everything goes wrong?”
Helen didn’t hesitate. “Then you survive it. Just like you always have.”
Antonia let out a shaky sob. “I don’t feel strong right now.”
“You don’t have to,” Helen said gently. “You just have to be honest.”
Another silence fell between them, but this one felt different. Less suffocating. More reflective.
“I’m tired,” Antonia whispered. “So tired of pretending.”
“I can hear that,” Helen said softly. “And your baby feels it too.”
Antonia’s hand tightened against her belly.
“This little boy deserves the truth about who he is,” Helen continued. “And so do the people who love him.”