Canvas & Crumbs

XXIII

Breaking Point
t/w: profanities

North's POV

The morning light filters into the bakery through the large glass windows, casting a warm glow over the pastries and the cheerful atmosphere inside. I've been trying to distract myself from the turmoil of the past few days by focusing on my work, but the sight of the photo on my phone has shattered any sense of normalcy.

I stare at the image of Aurelia; her baby bump is clearly visible. The realization hits me like a punch to the gut. This is our child, and she's been hiding it from me. Anger and hurt surge through me, overshadowing any sense of control I thought I had.

Without a second thought, I storm into the bakery, my frustration evident in every step. The moment the door swings open, the chatter of the customers falls silent, and all eyes turn toward me. I spot Aurelia behind the counter, and my heart pounds as I march over to her.

"Aurelia!" I call out, my voice strained with a mix of anger and desperation. "We need to talk—now!"

Her eyes widen with surprise, and she looks like she's about to protest. "North, I-I don't think this is the right time, you must l-leave," she says, her voice trembling.

I don't wait for her to finish. Grabbing her arm firmly, I pull her toward the door, ignoring her attempts to resist. "You're coming with me."

The bakery staff and patrons watch in shock as I drag her outside. The fresh air hits us as we step onto the pavement, and I turn to face her, my anger barely contained. "Why didn't you tell me? Why are you hiding our child from me?"

Aurelia's resolve crumbles, and tears start to stream down her face. "I-I didn't want to involve you because I was scared. Scared of w-what it would mean for us and for the baby."

Her words cut through my anger like a knife, and I'm left staring at her, my emotions in disarray. The realization of what she's saying sinks in slowly. I release her arm, stepping back as I try to process the gravity of the situation.

"It's our baby," she confesses, her voice breaking with emotion. "I didn't know h-how to tell you. I thought it would be easier to keep it to myself."

The impact of her confession is overwhelming.

My legs give way, and I sink to my knees on the cold pavement. The sight of her, so vulnerable and crying, mirrors the turmoil inside me. I feel the weight of my actions and words crashing down, and my own tears begin to fall.