BLURRY | SPRINA

Chapter Sixteen

Spencer was pacing in his living room, his jaw clenched, the tension thick in the air. Esme stood at the center of the room, arms crossed, her face flushed with anger.

"I told you, Spencer, that one percent isn't just a statistic!" she yelled, her voice raw with emotion. "You're really going to be a father. Can't you see what that means?"

Spencer's face paled, his body stiff with disbelief. "No. This isn't real. You're lying. You can't be—"

"I'm not lying!" Esme snapped, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. "You think I would lie about this? About...about having a baby with you?"

Spencer's fists clenched at his sides. "We were careful. I was careful. I—I don't understand," he muttered, backing away from her.

Esme stepped forward, her eyes fierce. "Well, that carefulness didn't work, did it? You've got a choice now. You need to figure out what you're going to do, Spencer, because this doesn't just go away."

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Trina stood frozen at the door, the phone lying discarded on the ground, its screen cracked from where it had fallen. She felt like the world had gone silent, her chest tight as if the very air had been sucked from the room.

She couldn't move.

Her legs were unsteady, her vision blurred by the tears threatening to spill. She didn't even realize she was shaking until she stepped inside and the warmth of her house wrapped around her. It felt so foreign, so distant.

Portia, busy in the kitchen, didn't immediately notice her daughter standing there in a daze. But when she looked up and saw Trina's tear-streaked face, her expression faltered, a rush of worry flooding her eyes.

"Trina?" Portia's voice was gentle but firm, like a mother's instinct to protect her child, always present. "What's wrong?"

Trina's lips trembled, and without a word, her body gave way. She collapsed into her mother's arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

Portia caught her, her strong arms wrapping around her daughter protectively. "Shh, it's okay, sweetheart. Whatever it is, I'm here."

Trina's sobs only deepened, the pain too raw to speak. Portia held her tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, trying to soothe her with her presence.

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Spencer's grip on the sides of the toilet tightened as he pushed himself upright, his knuckles whitening as he steadied his trembling body. But his stomach churned again, a fresh wave of nausea rising at the thought of Esme being pregnant.

He wasn't ready for a child. Not now. And especially not with her.

Forcing himself to move, he shuffled toward the sink, bracing himself against the counter as he turned on the faucet. The cold water ran over his shaking hands before he splashed it onto his face, trying to rinse away the acidic aftertaste lingering from what he had just expelled.

His reflection in the mirror stared back at him — pale, shaken, and burdened with a weight he wasn't prepared to carry. He needed to talk to someone, now.

Grabbing his phone from where he had left it, Spencer opened his call log, scrolling quickly in search of Cameron's name. But when his eyes landed on the most recent call, his heart froze.

There it was.

Trina.

Her name sat at the top of the list, the call listed as connected. His stomach twisted again, this time from sheer panic. He tapped the log and checked the timestamp, his dread growing heavier with every second. The call had been connected long enough — long enough for her to hear something.