Weight of The Untold

Chapter 72

Week 37: The baby is weighing 3 kilograms and 48.5 centimetres long. The baby is too big to be punching and kicking. They can only stretch, turn, roll and twist.

The baby continues to grow every day until their delivery and their fat continues to accumulate around other places like the knees, shoulders and elbows.

They will gain weight and grow in size until they are delivered. One in twenty babies are born on their due date.

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We arrived at the manor just as the snow thickened, the kind that swallowed sound and softened the world into something quiet and private. Clyde and I hurried inside, the warmth immediately wrapping around me, but the chill had already sunk deep into my bones.

Instinctively, my feet carried me toward the study. Caleb would be there—I didn’t even have to question it. He always was.

And I was right.

The door creaked softly as I stepped in. Papers were spread across the desk, the amber glow of the lamp casting long shadows against the walls.

“Hey brother.”

He lifted his head, eyes softening the moment they landed on me.

“Kid.” He breathed out, already standing. He crossed the room in two long strides and pulled me into a hug. “God, you’re so big.”

I scoffed, lightly punching his arm. He laughed, that familiar sound grounding me more than he knew.

But he wasn’t wrong.

I was big—so big that sometimes I barely recognized my reflection. My baby bump had grown so fast it felt unreal, like my body was racing ahead of my mind. Some days I wondered if I was exaggerating… and other days I wondered if this baby had already decided to make a dramatic entrance into the world.

“Stop reminding me,” I muttered as I shrugged out of my coat. “Anything from Grandpa about Christmas?”

His smile softened, just a little.

“It’s his last Christmas, so yeah. He’s spending it with us.”

I smiled—but the ache followed immediately after. That quiet, cruel knowledge that time was slipping through our fingers and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

“It sucks that we know he’s dying,” I said softly, drifting toward the window.

The lake stretched endlessly beyond the glass, frozen solid now, pale and still beneath the snow.

Flashback

I sat curled on my bed, knees hugged tightly to my chest as the sun rose outside my window. The sky burned softly in shades of gold and pink, mocking the way my body felt—weak, restless, exhausted, and wired all at once.

I hadn’t slept.

Not even for a moment.

I guess that’s how it is after you murder someone.

No one tells you how cruel memory can be. How their final moments cling to you like smoke. Their last words. Their last expression. Even their last smile.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Reid again—his knife pressed against my brother’s throat, his voice demanding I put the gun down. I saw him sprawled on the floor afterward, blood pooling beneath him, eyes wide and empty, a bullet lodged between them.

The door opened quietly behind me.

I didn’t turn around. I didn’t want company. I wanted silence. I wanted space. I wanted to disappear inside my own skin.