Seven Years, A Secret Family

Emerson POV:

I watched the car disappear around the corner, my mind reeling. Chelsey Collier. Jemal' s mother. Colt' s… "well, you know." The words replayed like a broken record, each beat a fresh stab to my chest.

Bernice rushed over, her face a mask of concern. "Emerson! What was that? Who was that woman?"

I couldn' t speak. The shock had rendered me mute. My entire body felt numb, yet every nerve ending was screaming. I stumbled back into Bernice' s apartment, clutching my chest.

"I need a minute," I gasped, pushing past her. I darted into the bathroom, slamming the door shut. I leaned against the cold tiles, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I dug my fingernails into my palms, trying to ground myself, to control the storm raging inside.

I pressed my forehead against the cool porcelain of the sink, trying to block out the image of Colt with that woman and child. That child. Jemal. He had been so pale, so small.

He looked sick.

A flicker of concern, quickly extinguished by the fire of betrayal. My empathy was a luxury I couldn' t afford right now.

I heard Bernice' s muffled voice from the hallway. "Emerson, are you okay? What happened? Who was that woman?"

I couldn' t answer. Not yet. I splashed cold water on my face, again and again, trying to wash away the memory, the shame, the searing pain.

A knock came at the door. Not Bernice. A hesitant, almost timid knock.

"Emerson? It' s Colt' s mother." Her voice was tight, strained. "I heard… I heard what happened. Are you alright, dear?"

My blood ran cold. Colt' s mother? Here? Had she known all along? How many people were in on this elaborate charade? My rage intensified.

"I' m fine," I called out, my voice falsely calm. "Just feeling a little unwell."

"Oh, darling. I understand. Such a stressful situation. I' m so sorry you had to find out this way." Her words were laced with a saccharine sympathy that made me want to vomit.

Find out this way? So she did know. They all knew. And they let me live a lie for six years. The collective betrayal was a crushing weight.

"I need some privacy, Mrs. Patrick," I said, my voice sharp, leaving no room for argument.

There was a moment of silence, then a sigh. "Of course, dear. We' ll be downstairs. Colt is… very worried about you."

Worried. The word was a mockery. He wasn' t worried about me. He was worried about his perfectly constructed lie unraveling.

I heard their footsteps retreat. I listened for a moment longer, then emerged. Bernice was there, her eyes wide.

"What was that about?" she whispered.

I just shook my head. "I need to pack. Get out of here." My voice was flat, emotionless.

Bernice led me to the guest room. I started pulling clothes from the dresser, shoving them haphazardly into a duffel bag. My hands felt clumsy, detached from my body. Every item I touched brought back a memory, a shred of the life I thought I had.

Then I saw it. On the bedside table, a small, velvet box. My wedding ring. I had taken it off last night, a desperate attempt to sever the ties, even symbolically.

I picked it up, the cool metal a heavy weight in my palm. It used to symbolize eternal love, an unbreakable bond. Now, it felt like a shackle.

"Bernice," I said, holding out the ring. "Can you… take this? And get me a ride to the airport?"

She gasped, her eyes widening. "Em! What are you doing?"

"I' m leaving," I stated plainly. "And I' m not coming back until this is over. Whatever 'this' is."

Bernice' s face softened. She took the ring from my hand, her fingers brushing mine. "Are you sure about this, Em?"

"I' ve never been more sure of anything in my life," I replied, my voice hard as stone.

I walked over to the window, staring out at the rain-lashed street. The world outside looked as bleak as my heart felt. I had always been so strong, so resilient. But this… this felt like too much.

My phone, miraculously, was still working, though cracked. I opened a message from Colt, sent just moments ago. "Still thinking of you, my love. Hope you're resting. I' ll call you later tonight."

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. He was lying. Still lying. Even now.

The rain beat against the windowpane, a relentless rhythm against the chaotic drum of my heart. I felt a sudden, sharp pain in my chest, a physical ache that mirrored the emotional agony. I was drowning.

A low growl rumbled in my throat. Colt' s mother' s words, Chelsey' s smug face, Colt' s tender voice to his "sweet pea." It was all a tapestry of deceit, woven with threads of my trust and loyalty.

I closed my eyes, picturing our wedding day. The vows, the promises. "Until death do us part." How ironic. Our love, my trust, it was already dead.

A sudden knock on the door startled me. Bernice. "Em, your dad just called. He said Colt' s mother told him you were going to stay with me for a few days before heading to Seattle. He sounded confused. He wants to know what' s going on."

My father. I had to protect him from this mess, if only for a little while longer. "Tell him I' ll call him tonight," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "Tell him I just needed some time with you, my best friend."

Bernice nodded, her face grim. She knew I was buying time.

I turned back to the window. The rain had subsided into a steady drizzle. My reflection stared back at me, a ghost of my former self. But in my eyes, something new had ignited. Not despair. But a cold, calculating fire.

I wouldn't just leave. I would make him regret every single lie.