Chapter 42
Maya's POV:
I stood frozen in the doorway.
Adam was on his feet.
He looked at me. Then at Ryan.
"I should go," he said. Turned to Amy. "Be good, sweetheart."
Amy's face fell. "You're leaving?"
"Your dad's here. You two should spend time together." Adam ruffled her hair.
The door clicked shut behind him.
I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding.
He doesn't know.
Ryan was watching me. Arms crossed. A strange smile on his face.
"That guy," he said slowly. "He seems… nice."
I set my bag down. "He's a friend."
Ryan nodded. Walked to the window. Looked out at the street below.
"I get it," he said. "You like him. You want things to work out. So you told him Amy's mine."
My heart stopped.
"Ryan—"
"I almost didn't catch it." He turned around. "But when he asked why Amy doesn't have my last name, I figured it out. You lied to him."
"I understand. You're scared. You don't want to scare him off with the whole 'single mom' thing. So you made up a story."
"I didn't mean to put you on the spot." My voice came out small. "I'm sorry."
Ryan didn't know Adam was the father. Didn't know the whole twisted history between us.
"I'll tell him." I headed for the kitchen. "You hungry? I was going to make dinner—"
"Don't bother." Ryan waved me off. "I'm not staying long. Sit. Let's talk."
I hesitated. Then walked back to the couch. Sat down.
Amy was still standing by the door. Staring at Ryan.
"Amy, sweetie," I said. "Go play in your room for a bit, okay?"
She shot Ryan one last look. Then disappeared into her room.
I turned to Ryan. "So. What's going on?"
"It's about Grace." His wife. My sister-in-law. "She wants a divorce. She's been threatening it for months."
"Did you cheat on her?"
"No."
"Then why—"
"Because I'm a fucking coward." He laughed. Bitter. "You want the truth? I married the wrong person."
I frowned.
"Mom introduced us," he said. "Grace. She came from a good family. Good job. Good everything. Mom loved her. And I… I went along with it."
"But you didn't love her."
"I loved someone else." His voice dropped. "Before Grace. There was this girl. Sophia. We were together for two years. I was going to propose."
"What happened?"
"Mom didn't approve." Ryan's jaw tightened. "Said Sophia wasn't good enough. Said I was throwing my life away. She kept pushing and pushing until I couldn't take it anymore. So I broke up with Sophia. Married Grace six months later."
"But you're still in love with Sophia," I said quietly.
"Yeah." He looked at me.
"Grace figured it out. She said I'm never really there with her. Said every time I go on a business trip, it's like I disappear. Like I'm relieved to get away." He ran a hand through his hair. "She's not wrong."
I didn't know what to say.
"Anyway." Ryan straightened. "That's my sob story. Don't tell Mom. She doesn't know yet. And I don't want her worrying."
"We don't even talk," I said. "How would I tell her?"
He sighed. "Maya. Come on."
"Come on what?"
"You need to let it go." His voice softened. "What happened between you and Mom… it was a long time ago. She's getting older and..."
"Let it go?" I repeated.
"She has her reasons—"
"What reasons?" I cut him off. "What fucking reasons, Ryan?"
He went quiet.
I laughed. A sharp, humorless sound.
"Do you remember?" I interrupted. My voice shook. "Do you remember what it was like?"
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
"When we were kids."
I remember everything.
Mom used to sneak you snacks. Chocolate bars. Chips. Whatever you wanted. But never me. If I asked for a snack, she'd tell me I didn't need it. Said girls had to watch their weight.
You never had to do chores. But I had to clean the kitchen every night. Fold the laundry. Mop the floors. When I complained, she said it was "good training" for when I got married.
You got new clothes for the start of every school year. I wore hand-me-downs from our cousins.
You were praised for everything. Even when you got a C on a test, she'd say you tried your best. But if I got a B, she'd act like I'd failed the whole year.
I learned not to ask for anything. Learned to stay quiet at the dinner table. Learned to eat fast so I wouldn't take too much of the good food. Learned to make myself invisible.
Because no matter what I did, it was never enough.
I worked my ass off to get into college. Got a full ride. Thought maybe—maybe—she'd be proud.
She didn't even come to my graduation.
I called her once. From the dorm. Asked if she wanted to visit. She said she was busy.
Four years. I didn't go home once. She never called. Never texted. It was like I didn't exist.
And when I came back—pregnant, desperate, terrified—I thought maybe she'd help me. Just for a few days. Just until I could get back on my feet.
She called me a disgrace. Said I was an embarrassment to the family. Told me to get out and never come back.
I realized I was crying.
Ryan was staring at me.
"You want me to let it go?" I wiped my face. "You want me to pretend none of that happened?"
"She's old now, Ryan. So what? That doesn't erase twenty-five years of being treated like I didn't matter."
"I know it was hard for you—"
"Hard?" I laughed. "Ryan. She hated me. And I never knew why."
He looked away.
"You said she has her reasons," I pressed. "So tell me. What are they?"
"Tell me."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because it's not my place."
I stood up. My hands were shaking.
"Then don't tell me to forgive her," I said. "Don't tell me to go back. Don't tell me we're family."
"Maya—"
"You're her family. I'm not part of that."
Ryan stood. "That's not fair—"
"Not fair?" I stepped closer. "You want to talk about fair? You got to grow up loved, Ryan. You got a mom who cared about you. I got scraps. And now you're standing here, telling me it's my fault we don't have a relationship?"
"I'm not saying it's your fault—"
"Then what are you saying?"
"I'm saying you're stubborn. You have a temper. You hold grudges." His voice rose. "You didn't come home for four years, Maya. You didn't call. You shut everyone out. How is that all on her?"
"You really think that's why we don't talk?" I said slowly. "Because I'm stubborn?"
"She didn't want me there!" My voice cracked.
The bedroom door flew open. Amy stepped out. Her face was cold. Angry.
"Uncle Ryan," she said. "You need to leave."
Ryan blinked. "Amy—"
"Now." She crossed her arms. "You're not welcome here."