My child's birth mother is my best friend

"Jack, go downstairs," Kevin ordered, his voice cracking as he pulled his shirt over his chest. "Right now. Go wait in the kitchen."

Jack didn't budge. He stayed perched on the fifth stair, his sneakers pressed against the carpet, searching my face with wide, uncertain eyes.

"Mommy?" he called out again.

I opened my mouth, ready to tell him everything would be fine, ready to pull him into my arms and shield him from the wreckage of this room.

Before I could take a step, Rose shoved past me.

She flew down the landing, her bare feet slapping against the wood. She dropped to her knees on the steps right in front of him, heedless of the sheet slipping from her collarbone.

"Jack, my sweet boy," Rose wept, reaching out to cup his cheeks. "Look at me. Don't listen to your father. I’m the one who carried you. I’m the one who gave birth to you."

"Rose, stop!" Kevin bellowed from the top of the stairs. "Don't do this to him!"

"I won't hide anymore!" Rose yelled back, her fingers sinking into Jack’s hair. "He deserves the truth! Jack, you grew inside my tummy. I gave you life."

I froze on the landing. My heart pounded against my ribs like a trapped bird.

I waited for Jack to shrink away. I waited for him to scream, to push her off, to scramble up the steps and bury his tear-stained face into my waist the way he did whenever lightning rattled his window.

Jack blinked.

He didn't cry.

He tilted his head, staring into Rose’s wet eyes. A sudden, bright spark flickered across his small features. The confusion on his face vanished, replaced by an unmistakable grin.

"You're my real mom?" Jack asked.

"Yes, baby," Rose sobbed, kissing his forehead. "Yes, I am."

"The real one?" Jack pressed, his voice rising with excitement. "Not Aunt Rose?"

"Not Aunt Rose. Your mother."

Jack turned his head, glancing up at me.

There was no terror in his gaze. Only the raw, unfiltered calculation of a five-year-old boy.

Rose was the one who bought him the sugary cereal I banned. Rose was the one who let him keep the iPad until midnight whenever she babysat. Rose bought him the loud, plastic monster trucks I told him had to wait until his birthday.

I was the one who dragged him to the sink twice a day to scrub his molars. I was the one who forced him to swallow broccoli before dessert. I was the one who shut off the television at eight sharp and made him trace letters on lined paper until his handwriting straightened out.

In Jack’s little world, I had spent five years being the warden.

"Then..." Jack looked back at Rose, his lips parting in an eager smile. "Can I have Rose be my Mom?"

The air died in my chest.

A sharp, violent pain tore through my ribs, as if the bones had shattered inward.

Five years.

Eighteen hundred days of pureeing vegetables, sponging down midnight fevers, singing him through night terrors, kissing bruised knees, wiping running noses.

Wiped out by a box of forbidden fruit snacks and an extra hour of cartoons.

"Jack," I whispered, the sound scraping against my dry throat.

Jack didn't even glance back at me. He threw his small arms around Rose’s neck, hugging her tightly. "Rose lets me eat cookies before dinner! She said I don't have to eat green beans!"

"I know, my angel," Rose laughed through her tears, squeezing him until his feet dangled off the step. "Whatever you want. Anything you want."

I swung toward Kevin. "Are you going to let her do this?"

Kevin rubbed his face with both hands, refusing to meet my eyes. "Crystal... please."

"Tell him!" I shouted, the fury tearing through my vocal cords. "Tell him who took care of him! Tell him who bled for him!"

"He’s only five!" Kevin snapped back, his voice thick with frustration. "Look at him, Crystal! He doesn't understand genetics or hospital paperwork! Don't make this harder for him!"

"I'm making it harder?" A hysterical laugh burst from my lips. "I kept him alive for five years!"

"And he wants his mother," Rose said smoothly from the stairs, standing up while holding Jack against her hip. She patted his back, looking up at me with open mockery. "You heard him. You can't force a child to love you."

"Put him down," I gritted out.

"No," Jack whined, wrapping his legs around Rose’s waist