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Justin's PoV
I sat there, silence enveloping me like a shroud, my body rigid, muscles clenched so tightly it felt like they might snap. The fluorescent lights of the hospital hallway cast a sterile, almost unforgiving glare, amplifying the stark white of the walls and deepening the unease gnawing at my core. My heart was a relentless drum in my chest, each beat a reminder of the fear and guilt that threatened to consume me. It felt like the walls were closing in, each tick of the clock a countdown to a horror I could neither predict nor prevent.
My mind kept spiraling back to what had just happened, replaying it on an endless loop. I couldn't forgive myself for letting Brandon talk to her, for failing to foresee the turmoil it would unleash on her—and more crucially, on our baby. I should have known better. I should have been the shield between her and any harm. The thought of losing her, of losing our unborn child, twisted my insides with a pain so raw it left me breathless.
I glanced at Brandon beside me. His face was ashen, his eyes fixed on the floor, heavy with the same guilt that weighed me down. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to breathe evenly, and finally, I found the strength to stand, though my legs felt like they might give way at any moment. I moved to sit closer to him, the weight of everything pressing down on me, making the air thick and suffocating.
"You will not talk to her again," I said, my voice firm but barely above a whisper, trying to leash the anger roiling inside me. Brandon didn't argue; he simply nodded, his face a portrait of regret and sorrow.
"But tell me everything," I continued, my tone softening just enough to let him know I was still listening, still willing to understand. "When this is over, when the pregnancy is behind us, I'll tell her everything. If she wants to talk to you again, you'll hear from her."
Brandon looked at me, his eyes pleading for forgiveness. "This was never my intention, please believe me," he whispered, his voice almost breaking under the weight of his guilt.
"It doesn't matter," I replied, my voice hollow, the pain in my chest deepening with each word.
"I just lost my dad, literally a few days ago. Do you think I'd want to hurt someone else or put their life in danger?" His voice cracked, the grief over his recent loss still fresh and raw. Tears welled up in his eyes as he nodded, finally meeting my gaze. "I'll tell you everything."
And so he began. His words were slow, heavy, each one sinking into me like stones thrown into a deep, dark well. "Maia's mom had a son already," he began, and immediately my mind flashed to Miguel. "My dad told me that Maia's mom was in a critical situation with her husband. They separated and were about to divorce. That's when she met my dad."
As Brandon spoke, the story unfolded before me, each revelation tightening the knot in my stomach. I could almost see it—Maia's mother, lost and desperate, finding solace in someone else. The idea of Maia being the product of a fleeting love, of her mother choosing to stay with her husband despite the pregnancy, was almost too much to bear.
