The Cheater [JenLisa]

Chapter 26

The envelope felt heavier than it should.

Lisa stared at it in her hands, the clinic's logo printed neatly on the corner, her name beneath it. Her palms were damp.

She sat in the car parked outside the building, staring at the paper like it might burst into flames. Beside her, Somi glanced over, holding Ken on her lap. The little boy had fallen asleep against her shoulder, small fingers tangled in the ends of her hair.

"Do you want me to open it?" Somi asked softly.

Lisa shook her head. "No. I have to do this myself."

Her voice trembled despite her effort to sound steady.

She looked out the window. Jennie was waiting near the entrance, her figure still, almost fragile. Gail was in a stroller beside her, cooing softly at the sunlight that spilled through the glass.

Lisa swallowed hard and turned to Somi. "Stay here with Liam, okay? I'll just... I'll go talk to her."

Somi nodded. "I'll be right here." She reached over and squeezed Lisa's hand. "No matter what it says, you come back to us."

Lisa smile, pocketed the envelope, and stepped out of the car.

The world outside felt muted—the hum of traffic distant, the breeze gentle but cold. Jennie looked up as Lisa approached. There were shadows under her eyes, the kind that came from too many sleepless nights and too many regrets.

"You got it?" Jennie asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lisa nodded, holding the envelope between them. For a moment, neither moved.

Jennie's fingers trembled. "Do you want me to—"

"I'll do it," Lisa cut in, her tone firm but not cruel.

She tore the flap open, the sound loud in the still air. Her eyes scanned the page once, then again.

Her breath caught.

Jennie's gaze searched her face, desperate. "Lisa?"

Lisa finally looked up, eyes glassy but steady. "It's true."

Jennie's lips parted. "So she's—"

"She's mine," Lisa said quietly.

"Gail's my daughter."

The words hung between them, raw and irreversible. Jennie let out a shaky breath, a tear slipping down her cheek.

Lisa folded the paper carefully and slipped it back into the envelope. Her hands shook, but her voice didn't.

"You should've told me years ago."

"I know," Jennie whispered, voice breaking. "I was scared. I thought you'd hate me more."

Lisa laughed bitterly, the sound short and sharp. "I already did."

Jennie nodded, tears spilling freely now. "And I deserved that. Every bit of it. But when Gail was born, I saw your eyes in hers, and I couldn't... I couldn't lie to her forever."

Lisa's jaw tightened. "You lied to me."

"I was protecting you."

"From what?" Lisa's voice rose. "From being a Dad? From knowing my own child existed? Do you have any idea what you took from me, Jennie?"
Jennie flinched at the name. "I thought you were happy with Somi. I didn't want to destroy that."

"You didn't get to decide that for me."
The silence that followed was sharp, filled with every unspoken word they'd buried over the years. Gail stirred in her stroller, making a soft sound, as if feeling the weight in the air.

Lisa crouched down, eyes falling on the little girl. She reached out tentatively, brushing her thumb against Gail's tiny hand. The baby curled her fingers instinctively around it, and Lisa's chest ached.

"She looks like Liam," Lisa whispered.
Jennie smiled weakly through her tears. "She does."

Lisa stood up slowly, her expression unreadable. "I don't know what this means yet. But I'm not walking away from her."

Jennie nodded. "I never wanted you to. I just... didn't know how to tell you without losing everything."

Lisa's voice was calm but cold. "You lost me the day you chose him."

Jennie's eyes closed, her lips trembling. "I know."

For a long moment, they stood there, two people bound by love, broken by betrayal, and now tied again by a child neither expected.

Lisa stepped back, drawing a deep breath. "I'll be in touch. For Gail. But that's all, Jennie. That's all there can ever be."

Jennie looked down, nodding slowly, accepting the finality in Lisa's tone.
As Lisa turned to leave, Jennie's voice cracked behind her. "Thank you... for not hating her because of me."

Lisa didn't look back. "She's innocent. You're not."

Back in the car, Somi looked up the moment Lisa opened the door.
Her eyes darted to the envelope. "So?"

Lisa's throat felt tight. "It's true. She's mine."

Somi's face softened with both sadness and understanding. She glanced at Liam, who had just woken and now clung sleepily to her neck.

"What are you going to do?"

Lisa stared out the windshield, watching Jennie in the distance—bending to pick Gail up, rocking her gently, wiping her tears with the back of her hand.

"I'll be there for her," Lisa said finally.

"I won't let Gail grow up without knowing who I am."

Somi nodded slowly. "And Jennie?"

Lisa's gaze hardened. "She's the mother of my children. Nothing more."

Somi reached over and placed her hand over Lisa's. "That's all I needed to hear."

Lisa turned toward her, eyes tired but resolute. "You're my home, Somi. You and them. No one else."
Liam stirred, tugging at Somi's sleeve. "Mommy," he mumbled sleepily.

Somi smiled faintly, brushing his hair aside. "Yeah, sweetheart?"

"Can we go home now?"

Lisa's heart clenched at the word home. For so long, it had been something fragile, uncertain. But now, as she looked at Somi and Liam—the family she'd built from the ruins—it finally felt solid again.

"Yeah," Lisa said quietly. "Let's go home baby."

That night, after tucking Liam into bed, Lisa stepped outside to the balcony. The city lights shimmered below, indifferent to the storm that had just passed through her life.
She leaned on the railing, letting the cool air fill her lungs. Somewhere out there, Jennie was probably doing the same—rocking Gail to sleep, wondering if she'd done the right thing.

Lisa closed her eyes.

She didn't forgive her.

She didn't forget.

But for the first time in a year, she didn't feel crushed under the weight of it all. The truth had broken something open—but it had also set her free.

When Somi joined her, slipping her arm around Lisa's waist, Lisa didn't speak. She just leaned into her, steady and certain.

The past was behind her now.

And this time, she wasn't looking back.