His Lovable Klutz (Completed)

Segment Forty-three.

♥ Mother Knows Best ♥

      Coby slowly slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Charlotte, who was snoring softly beside her. The house was quiet, the only sound was the creaking of the floorboards as she tiptoed her way to the kitchen. Her stomach growled loudly, a reminder of the hunger that had become an all-too-frequent companion these past few days.

      In the half-darkness of the kitchen, Coby rummaged through the refrigerator, her eyes landing on a pot of leftover casserole on the stove. She grabbed a fork, not bothering to heat it up, and perched herself on one of the stools by the counter. She dug in, her appetite voracious, as she twirled a forkful of pasta and shoved it into her mouth.

      The kitchen was dimly lit by the faint glow from the microwave clock, casting long shadows across the countertops. The only thing breaking the silence was the sound of Coby's fork scraping against the pot as she greedily devoured the cold casserole. She had no idea how hungry she was until she started eating, and once she did, there was no stopping her.

      Just as she was about to shove another forkful into her mouth, the kitchen light suddenly flicked on. Coby froze, the forkful of pasta dangling mid-air, her eyes wide as if she'd been caught in the act of a crime. She looked like a deer caught in headlights, with pasta hanging from her mouth, mid-bite. It was a sight to behold—one that would have been hilarious if it wasn't so bizarre.

      Standing in the doorway was her mother, Rosita, her chestnut hair in disarray, wearing an old robe. She blinked in surprise, taking in the sight of Coby sitting there with the pot, in the dead of night, eating like she hadn't seen food in days.

      "Coby? What on earth are you doing eating in the middle of the night?" Rosita asked, squinting at her.

      Coby quickly swallowed the pasta, almost choking on it in her haste. "I was hungry," she mumbled, her voice muffled by the food still in her mouth.

      Rosita frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. "But you just ate not too long ago. Why are you always hungry these past few days? I've never seen you eat so much in your life."

      Before Coby could come up with a response, Charlotte shuffled into the kitchen, her hair a mess, scratching her back sleepily.

      "What's going on? Why's the light on?" she mumbled, still half-asleep. Her eyes widened when she saw Coby with the pot. "Coby, are you seriously eating a whole pot of casserole right now? At this hour?"

      Coby snapped, feeling cornered. "Yes, I'm eating! Can't I eat if I'm hungry? Why is everyone on my case about it?"

      Rosita raised an eyebrow at Coby's outburst. "No need to get cranky, it was just a question. You've been acting strange lately. You're sleeping all the time, eating like you're feeding an army, snapping at people for no reason... Coby, what's going on?"

      Coby avoided her mother's gaze, focusing instead on stabbing the pasta with her fork. She knew where this conversation was headed and wasn't ready to face it. But her mother wasn't one to let things go easily.

      "Coby," Rosita said slowly, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Are you pregnant?"

      The question hung in the air, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. Charlotte, who had been rubbing her eyes, suddenly snapped awake, her attention laser-focused on Coby, eager to hear her response. Coby could feel both of them staring at her, waiting for an answer.

      Coby scoffed, trying to play it off, waving her mother's question away with a shaky hand. "What? No! Don't be ridiculous, Mom. I'm not pregnant."

      But the look on her mother's face said she wasn't buying it. She leaned in closer, her eyes boring into Coby's.

      "Coby, I've had two kids. I know the signs. You're showing every symptom in the book. Now, are you going to tell me the truth, or do I have to drag it out of you?"

      Coby's heart pounded in her chest, the weight of her mother's words pressing down on her. She could feel the sweat on her brow, the way her hands trembled as she clutched the fork. She tried to maintain her composure, but it was no use. Rosita could see right through her, and the nervousness was written all over her face. Even Charlotte was watching her with concern and curiosity, leaning forward as if she was about to witness a major revelation.

      Coby's resolve crumbled. She felt the tears welling up in her eyes as she slowly nodded, her head bobbing in confirmation. Her mother gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, as the reality of the situation sunk in.

      Coby, Charlotte, and Rosita sat on the couch, the silence in the room heavy and suffocating. Coby had just finished confessing everything—how she had lied about her job, about the house she claimed to live in, and about her life in general. Her voice had wavered as she spoke, but she forced herself to get through it, knowing she couldn't keep it a secret any longer. The weight of her words hung in the air like a storm cloud, ready to burst at any moment.

      Rosita sat still, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her eyes fixed on Coby. Her expression was unreadable, a mask of calm that only deepened Coby's anxiety. Coby could feel her mother's eyes boring into her, searching for something—an explanation, a reason, anything that could make sense of the mess her daughter had created.

      Finally, Rosita broke the silence, her voice calm but edged with something sharp. "Who is the father of the baby, Coby?" she asked, her gaze unwavering.

      Coby hesitated, her throat dry as she tried to find the words. She had dreaded this moment, the moment she would have to explain about Stefan. She took a deep breath and began, her voice trembling as she spoke.

      "His name is Stefan Reynolds," she said quietly. "He's... He's my boss. I work as his housekeeper and his cook, or I used to."

      Rosita's eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn't interrupt. Coby continued, telling her everything—how she had taken the job out of desperation, how Stefan was wealthy and powerful, how she had tried to keep their relationship professional, but things had gotten out of hand. She explained how she had taken precaution, how she thought she had been careful, but somehow, she ended up pregnant.

      When she finished, the silence returned, even more oppressive than before. Rosita didn't say anything for a long time. She just stood up, her movements slow and deliberate, as if she was carrying the weight of Coby's confession on her shoulders. She turned away from them, her back to her daughters, and walked out of the room without a word.

      The sound of the door closing behind her felt like the finality of a gavel. Coby stared at the space where her mother had stood, her heart sinking lower with each passing second. The sting of disappointment was sharp and unrelenting. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, and no matter how hard she tried to hold them back, they spilled over, running down her cheeks in silent streams.

      Charlotte, sitting next to her, immediately reached out, wrapping an arm around Coby's shoulders. "Cobes, it's going to be okay," she whispered, her voice soft and comforting. "Mom just needs some time to process everything. She's not mad at you."

      But Coby couldn't shake the feeling that she had let her mother down, that she had shattered whatever hopes and dreams her mother had for her.

      "She's disappointed in me, Charlie," Coby choked out, her voice breaking. "I've made such a mess of everything. I lied to her. I lied to everyone. I didn't even tell Stefan about the pregnancy. I don't even know what I'm doing anymore."

      Charlotte tightened her hold on Coby, pulling her closer. "Hey, hey, don't do that to yourself," she said firmly. "You made a mistake, but that doesn't mean you're a failure. Mom loves you, no matter what. She's just worried, that's all. She'll come around."

      Coby leaned into Charlotte, seeking comfort in her sister's embrace. But the ache in her chest was still there, a reminder of the rift she felt between herself and her mother. The silence of the house only amplified the emptiness she felt inside. No matter how much Charlotte tried to console her, Coby couldn't shake the overwhelming sadness that threatened to consume her.