𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐂𝐘: Bronny James

43

November 24th
2:00 PM

Bronny's POV:

It's been a week, but it feels like I've been stuck in this haze for a year.

I hadn't left my room, except to grab something to eat. Even then, I barely have the appetite for it. The walls of my bedroom at my parents' house are starting to feel like they're closing in, but the thought of going anywhere else, seeing anyone, is unbearable.

I've avoided everything. Social media, texts, calls. Sophia's tried to check on me a few times. I saw her name light up on my phone, but I couldn't bring myself to answer. What would I even say? That I'm not okay? That I don't know if I ever will be?

The media's been eating this whole situation alive. Even though I've been off socials, I know what they're saying. My parents have tried to hide it from me, but I caught snippets of conversations in the hallway. Taylor went on her Instagram—some live or post, I don't even know—and told everyone she had her baby. She made sure to emphasize one thing: I'm not the father.

That part wasn't a lie, at least.

But the way she said it—like it absolved her of everything—made me sick. She didn't mention the lies, the manipulation, the months I spent thinking Julie was mine. She painted herself as the victim, just like I knew she would.

And Julie...

I thought the pain would lessen by now, but it hasn't. I can't stop thinking about her. Her tiny hands, her little smile when I held her. It's not fair. I fell in love with her, and now I have to let her go like she was never mine to begin with.

How do I even do that?

My parents have been worried, knocking on my door every now and then, but I keep telling them I need space. And I do. I can't face them, or anyone, right now. I don't have the energy to explain myself or listen to their reassurances that it'll all be okay. Because it doesn't feel like it will be.

I keep replaying everything in my head, over and over. Every moment with Taylor, every moment with Julie. I wonder what I could've done differently, what I missed. How could I have been so blind?

But there's no answer. Just silence.

The quiet has been my only company, and even that's starting to feel suffocating. Maybe I should call Sophia back. Or at least text her. I forget sometimes that she's also carrying my child, so I have no other choice. She's probably worried, and I hate that I've shut her out. But every time I think about anything baby related, my chest tightens, and I feel like I'm drowning all over again.

For now, I'll stay here. Just a little longer. Maybe tomorrow I'll feel ready to face the world. Or maybe not. I don't know anymore.

•••

Savannah's POV:

The smell of sizzling bacon filled the kitchen as I stood at the stove, carefully flipping each strip to make sure it was the right amount of crispy. Beside me, Zhuri was perched on a stool at the counter, her little hands busy layering lettuce, tomato slices, and mayonnaise onto the toasted bread I'd prepared. She was meticulous, her tongue poking out slightly in concentration as she assembled the sandwiches.

"Do you think Daddy's going to eat two sandwiches again, or should I make him one and a half?" Zhuri asked, glancing at me.

"Better make two," I said with a small laugh. "You know how your dad gets when he's hungry."