Panic rushes through me. I shoot up from the couch, hands shaking, feet moving before I can think. I head for the kitchen. The only thing I can do right now is cook. Or maybe bake. Something methodical. Something that keeps me from yelling.
“Please,” he follows, breath hitching. “Please, I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t,” I cut him off, whipping around. “Don’t say another word.”
“Mom...” he whimpers.
My shoulders fall. I don’t turn around, just press both palms to the counter to keep myself steady.
“I don’t want to hear anything right now. Your father’s going to walk through that door any minute, and I need to calm down before he sees a crime scene.”
Kai’s lower lip quivers. And I feel it—my own tears building, hot and fast.
He’s twenty. But he’s still my baby. And we raised him better than this. Better than to break someone’s heart—especiallyherheart.Alisha.
Kashvi and I had traded initials when we were pregnant—A for her kid, K for mine. A dumb joke between Lucian and Liam that somehow stuck.
Kai was eight months old when Alisha was born. They grew up together. We even shifted Kai’s school year to keep them in the same grade.
They wereinseparable. Until things changed.
Because one day, last year, they stopped bickering. And started sneaking looks. Whispering.Disappearing.
Kashvi and I knew. Wealwaysknew. They’d definitely started dating in secret.
And now, I’m looking at my son—his face torn with guilt, looking every bit like his father did two decades ago.
The front door clicks open.
Lucian strolls in, shoes off, bag slung over one shoulder, phone in hand. He doesn’t look up.
“Rohi, baby,” he says distractedly. “Liam wants to do dinner this Saturday, so I was thinking maybe we can resched—”
Then he sees me. My tear-streaked face.
He’s beside me in two strides. “Hey. Hey, what happened?”
I don’t answer. He follows my gaze to Kai, still standing in the corner of the kitchen like he’s bracing for impact.
Lucian’s expression hardens. His voice drops. “What did you do? Why is my wife crying?”
It’s alwaysmy wifewhen he’s angry. Neveryour mother.
Kai opens his mouth. Hesitates. Then closes it again.
“He kissed someone,” I say. “I don’t know if Alisha knows yet.”
Lucian freezes. The name hits him like a blow. He’s loved Alisha like his own since she was born.
Kai tries to speak, but Lucian cuts him off—his voice cold, sharp.
“Living room. Now. I’ll be right there.”
His attention shifts to me completely, arms wrapping around my waist. I’m more angry than sad.
“Baby...” he rasps. “You want to sit with us? While I interrogate him?”
I sigh into his chest, letting myself lean into the warmth and love that’s neveroncewavered in all these years.
