The One She Needed

TWENTY ONE

RAQUEL

Tears blurred my vision, turning the sterile white of the examination room into a haze. The rhythmic, steady thump of a heartbeat filled the air—strong, insistent. My child's heartbeat. The sound wrapped around me, sinking deep into my bones, making everything real in a way I hadn't expected.

There was life inside me. Hidden from the world, but undeniable.

By the time I left the appointment, excitement stirred beneath the nerves. A smile tugged at my lips as I made my way to the car, fingers resting lightly on my stomach. Tonight, I would tell Alex.

He hadn't responded to my message yet, but I knew he would come. Curiosity alone would drive him. He was discharged from the hospital yesterday, and I didn't know what to expect from him now. Relief? Rage? Would he accept this? Or walk away?

The uncertainty twisted inside me, but one thing was clear—I could do this alone if I had to. It would hurt. But I was already in love with this child. A fierce, unshakable love.

My mother had never looked at me that way. Had she ever felt this? Had she ever placed a hand on her stomach and whispered promises into the quiet? Or had she only felt shame?

The thought made my jaw tighten. No matter what, my child would never doubt my love.

As I stepped into the parking lot, a shiver crawled up my spine. I shook it off, unaware that unseen eyes followed my every move.

***

Work became my distraction, the steady rhythm of tasks pulling me away from the looming conversation. Alex had confirmed he'd come at eight, and every few minutes my gaze flickered to the clock, counting down the hours.

Everything ran smoothly—until my office door flew open.

Sharp heels clicked against the floor. A storm in designer heels.

Serena.

Angie rushed in behind her, her expression thunderous. "I tried to stop her," she huffed. "But this bitch doesn't understand boundaries."

I exhaled, forcing my shoulders to relax.

"What do you want?" My voice remained steady, though tension coiled tight inside me.

Serena's gaze was like ice. "I need to talk to you." A glance at Angie. "Alone."

"You've got a lot of nerve," I said before Angie could fire off a reply. "Or you're just naturally stupid."

She sighed, pressing her fingers to her temples. "I didn't come here to fight."

Angie and I exchanged a look. Neither of us believed that for a second.

"Fine," Serena muttered, jaw clenched. "It's about Derek."

I leaned back in my chair, unimpressed. "What else is new?"

Serena's eyes flickered with irritation, but she swallowed whatever sharp remark had been on the tip of her tongue. "Look," she exhaled. "Terrance screwed me over, okay?"

Angie let out a dry laugh. "Again. Shocker."

Serena's fists curled, nails digging into her palms. For a second, I thought she'd lash out. Instead, she sank into the chair across from me, her shoulders dropping, head bowed.

"I guess I deserve that," she murmured.

The words stopped me cold. Serena never admitted fault. Ever.

Angie's eyes widened, mirroring my own surprise. Was she... apologetic?

"Serena?"

The first tear slipped down her cheek. Then another.

"I wouldn't be here if I had another choice," she said, her voice thick with something I couldn't name. "I found out recently that... I have an STD." She let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head. "And before either of you say anything—I've come to terms with it."

The silence stretched between us. She wasn't looking for pity.

"What I refuse to do," she continued, eyes burning with anger now, "is let that bastard walk away unscathed. Raquel, you're the only other person who knows what he's capable of. And I don't know about you, but I'd love to take him down."

Past the pain in her voice, past the rare glimpse of vulnerability, I saw something raw. Betrayal. Rage. A thirst for justice.

I knew those feelings well.

But as the weight of it all settled over me—the baby, Alex, now this—I saw the road ahead, and I knew it led nowhere good.

Serena was waiting for my answer.

I met her gaze, steady and sure.

"No."

I had to get out of this.