He Remembered Nothing But My Sister’s Lies

The nurse at the women's clinic slid the paper across the counter like it was a parking ticket.

"Congratulations," she said. "Six weeks, give or take. You'll want to book a follow-up."

I read the word *POSITIVE* four times. Then I folded the sheet into quarters and tucked it into my tote.

Six weeks.

The night he proposed. His fingers had shaken so badly he dropped the ring twice. Afterward he'd pulled me under the thin hospital blanket and said, *Stay. Just tonight. Nobody has to know.*

Nobody did. Not even him, anymore.

I rode the elevator to the fifth floor and made myself a promise. I'd tell him. To his face, plainly, with no tears. Then I'd pack my things and leave this city before Celeste could turn my child into another one of her stories.

One more conversation. That was all.

---

Darius was awake when I walked in. The slap had faded from his cheek, but he touched the spot when he saw me, almost without meaning to.

"You came back," he said.

"I said one week."

"After last night, I figured—"

"You figured wrong." I dropped my tote on the vinyl chair. "I need to wash my hands. Then we need to talk."

His eyes narrowed. "About what?"

I didn't answer. I went into the small bathroom and ran the water cold. My reflection looked like someone who hadn't slept. I pressed wet fingers against my eyelids and counted to ten.

When I came out, Celeste was standing by the chair.

My tote lay on its side. The folded paper was open in her hands.

Her face had gone white. Then, as I watched, it crumpled.

"What is this?" she whispered.

"Put that down."

"*What is this, Loria?*"

She spun toward the bed and held the sheet up like evidence at a trial. Tears were already spilling over her lashes.

"She's pregnant," she said to Darius. Her voice broke on the last word. "Did you know? Were you two—behind my back, this whole time—"

Darius sat forward. "What?"

"Last night I walked in and her mouth was swollen and your face was red, and I told myself I was being paranoid." Celeste pressed the paper to her chest and sobbed. "Tell me the truth. Did you sleep with my sister?"

"No." The answer shot out of him. Then he looked at me, and something hardened behind his eyes. "One kiss. That's all that happened."

"Then whose is it?" Celeste wailed.

Silence.

Darius turned his head slowly. His gray eyes moved down to my stomach, then up to my face. Cold. Measuring.

"Convenient timing," he said.

I stared at him. "Excuse me?"

"One kiss last night. A pregnancy test this morning." He gave a short, humorless laugh. "Did you plan it in that order, or did you already have the paper in your bag?"

"You think I *planned* this?"

"I think you've wanted something from me since the moment you walked in with those flowers." His jaw flexed. "And now you have a way to get it."

My hands went numb.

"Or maybe," he went on, quieter, "it isn't anything to do with me at all. Your doctor seemed very interested in your wrist."

"Rowan?"

"You're on a first-name basis."

"He treated my *burns*, Darius."

"He held your hand by the window like he'd done it before."

Celeste sniffled and laid her hand on his arm. "Honey, don't. She's not well. You don't know what she'll—"

I crossed the room in three steps.

I snatched the paper from Celeste's fingers. She yelped. I didn't care. I slammed it flat on the tray table in front of him, so hard the water cup jumped and splashed.

"Read it."

He didn't move.

"*Read it.*" I jabbed my finger at the date line. "Six weeks. Count back, Darius. Count back to the night you put a ring on my hand and told me you didn't need eyes to know you wanted me forever."

His face went still.

"You asked me to stay that night. You said nobody had to know." My voice was steady. I was almost proud of that. "Whether you held me or not—fine. You can forget it. You can forget all of it. But don't you dare sit there and invent a man for me."

He looked down at the paper.

His thumb moved along the edge of it, smoothing the crease. Once. Twice.

"The night I—" He stopped. His brow knotted, like he was pushing against a locked door. "There was a storm. The window was rattling."

My heart lurched.

"Yes," I said.

"Someone laughed because I dropped—"

"The ring. You dropped it twice."

His eyes snapped up to mine. Wide. Lost.

For one breath, the whole room held still.

Then there was a small metallic click.

Celeste had pulled the sapphire ring off her finger. She set it on the edge of the tray table, right beside the test result, and stepped back.

She wasn't crying anymore. That scared me more than the tears.

"I understand," she said softly. "I really do. I won't be the woman who stands in the way of a baby."

"Celeste—" Darius started.

"I nursed you for three months." Her voice trembled, just enough. "I'd do it again. But I can't compete with this. I won't." She picked up her purse. "Be happy, both of you."

She walked out. She didn't slam the door. She left it hanging open, so we could hear her heels echo down the hall, faster and faster, until they broke into a run.

Darius was already pushing the blanket off his legs.

"Don't," I said.

He swung his feet to the floor. His shoulder must have screamed. He didn't seem to notice.

"Darius. Look at me."

He did. Just once. His face was gray, torn straight down the middle.

"If I'd known it would turn out like this," he said, low and rough, "I'd rather have never touched you."

Then he grabbed his robe off the hook and went after her.

The door swung closed on its own.

I stood beside the bed for a long time. The ring sat on the tray table, small and cold. The paper lay next to it, damp at one corner where the water had spilled. A nurse came in, saw my face, and backed out again without a word.

The light through the window moved from white to gold to gray.

He didn't come back.

And somewhere between the gold and the gray, I stopped listening for him.

I folded the test result, put it in my pocket, and left the ring where she'd dropped it.

At the elevator, my phone buzzed. An unknown number. One line of text.

*Ms. Lane, this is the fire investigator's office. We've reviewed the gallery footage. You need to see who locked the back exit.*