Chapter Sixty Four

As Ronald called my name, my eyes fluttered open, but the world around me remained engulfed in darkness. An unfamiliar sensation coursed through me, as if reality had detached itself from my body. My chest felt heavy, burdened with emotions I couldn't yet understand. A lump formed in my throat as I swallowed, the act itself causing pain. My eyes burned from the relentless tears I had shed, and now, even opening them fully seemed like an insurmountable task.

How long had I been crying? When would the pain subside? And where was I? My mind raced, struggling to grasp the fragments of memory that drifted just beyond my reach.

I made an attempt to sit up, but a sharp, searing pain in my stomach stopped me in my tracks. I sucked in a breath, my fingers instinctively moving to press against the ache. It was a persistent, gnawing agony. Had I been injured? I forced myself to recall the last thing I remembered. Brooks. Yes, I had been with Brooks.

And Ronald.

Where was he? How was he doing? My heart clenched at the thought of him. I hated the darkness surrounding me. It felt suffocating, isolating. Ronald knew me better than anyone; he had always been my source of warmth, my beacon of light. But now, that light had vanished, swallowed whole by the shadows.

"Ron..."

My voice was barely a whisper, but the sound of the door creaking open made me freeze. Someone had entered the room. My heart pounded against my ribs, my breath catching in my throat. Was it him? Was it Ronald?

"Rose."

The voice wasn't Ronald's.

I blinked as a dim light seeped into the room, my eyes struggling to adjust. "Brooks?"

He stood near the doorway, clad in a casual outfit, his expression unreadable. His dark eyes carried an exhaustion that sent an unsettling feeling crawling up my spine. He walked over and took a seat beside my bed, his presence familiar yet distant.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice softer than usual. He reached out, his fingers gently brushing against my forehead before stroking my hair in slow, deliberate motions.

Something inside me stirred at his touch. It was a foreign emotion, a shift within me that I wasn't ready to face. I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced myself not to cry again.

"Hey, it's okay," he murmured, but even the sound of my own sobs seemed foreign, as if they no longer belonged to me. I felt nothing but emptiness, a hollow void where emotions once flourished.

"Let it go, Rose. Let go of the past," Brooks continued. "From now on, you have to find happiness—not for yourself, but for someone else."

His hand moved lower, resting gently on my stomach.

I frowned, my breath hitching. "What?"

His gaze met mine, unwavering. "Rose, congratulations. You're pregnant."

Time came to a screeching halt. The world tilted, and I felt as if the air had been stolen from my lungs. Pregnant? No. That couldn't be right.

"You're lying," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Brooks shook his head, a small, tired smile on his lips. "I wouldn't lie about something like this."

"No." I shook my head vehemently, gripping the sheets beneath me. "That's impossible. I... I was told I couldn't—"

His expression changed, the teasing glint in his eyes disappearing. "Rose."

I couldn't breathe. My chest tightened, panic clawing at me. Ronald. This was Ronald's child.

Brooks must have noticed my distress because he leaned forward, his voice steady yet firm. "You passed out while driving. A doctor came to check on you. The tests confirmed it."

"This isn't real," I choked out.

"Rose, you're weak," Brooks said, reaching for his phone. "You need to take care of yourself. There's a life inside you now."

"No," I whispered. "No one is inside me. The doctor made a mistake."

But deep down, I knew he hadn't.

Tears welled in my eyes again, burning as they cascaded down my cheeks. "I wanted a child. I wanted his child. I loved him. So why?"

Brooks pulled me into his arms as I sobbed, his grip firm yet comforting. But the damage was already done. The scars had already been carved into my soul.

"He's marrying her," I muttered bitterly. "Laura wins again."

"Enough," Brooks said sharply, just as a knock sounded at the door. He stood and accepted a small box from a man before handing it to me.

"Take the test," he said simply.

My hands trembled as I took the pregnancy test and forced myself to my feet. My body felt foreign, weak. Brooks helped me into the bathroom, his steady presence grounding me. I stared at the test in my hands, my heart hammering in my chest.

Pregnant again.

Pregnant again.

No.

"Brooks!" I gasped.

He rushed in, his eyes filled with urgency. "What?"

I turned the test toward him, my fingers trembling. "I'm pregnant."

His lips parted, and for a moment, neither of us spoke. Then, slowly, a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

But the truth hit me like a brick. This wasn't just my child. This was Ronald's child. And he didn't deserve to know.

"This is my baby," I whispered. "Not his. Just mine."

Brooks exhaled, shaking his head. "Rose, think before you say that. This child is yours, but Ronald is still the father."

"Can you get me something to eat?" I asked, changing the subject.

Brooks hesitated before nodding. "Of course."

As he stepped out, I placed a hand over my stomach. The realization was beginning to settle in. A life—small, fragile—was growing within me.

A mother. That's what I was now.

The word felt foreign yet powerful.

I had spent my entire life chasing love, only to be left shattered time and time again. But now, I had something more. Someone who would love me unconditionally.

My child.

Ronald's face flickered in my mind, and I clenched my fists. No. He didn't own me anymore. He had chosen his path. Now, I would choose mine.

And I would never let him take this from me. 

The next morning, Brooks dropped me off at work, but not before ensuring I had a scheduled doctor's appointment. He was relentless in his concern, his care unwavering. I found it both comforting and perplexing. Why was he standing by me so firmly? What did he truly want? Still, I was grateful.

Jessie returned to the office that day, offering an apology on her brother's behalf. She knew nothing of the turmoil within me, of how my heart now belonged elsewhere—to the life growing inside me. We exchanged pleasantries, and though her demeanor remained warm, I couldn't help but notice the stark differences between us. Physically, emotionally—everything about us was different.

Taking a private moment, I confided in her, asking questions about pregnancy. She responded with surprising wisdom, offering insight that both reassured and unsettled me. My body would change in ways I had never imagined. My world was shifting faster than I could comprehend. I needed to start preparing, planning for my baby's future.

After work, I made my way to the hospital. Today, I was stepping into Jessie's shoes, navigating unfamiliar territory alone. Upon arrival, the receptionist directed me straight to the examination room where the doctor was already waiting.

A few tests later, she confirmed it—I was indeed pregnant. The reality of it all struck me harder than before. My body had betrayed my past fears, my doubts. Life had found a way.

Brooks had called me incessantly throughout the day, his concern unwavering. He was wonderful, but his dedication puzzled me. What tethered him to me so fiercely? I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts.

Lying on the examination table, I took slow, deep breaths, trying to steady myself. My palms were damp with sweat, gripping the cool sheets beneath me. The room felt too small, the air too thick.

"Miss Rose, just relax," the doctor instructed gently.

I nodded but remained tense. Then, something shifted inside me. A sensation, faint yet profound. Before I could process it, the sound of a heartbeat filled the room. My child's heartbeat.

Tears welled up in my eyes, spilling down my cheeks before I even realized I was crying. The rhythmic sound pulsed through me, a melody unlike anything I had ever heard.

"Miss Rose, that's your baby's heartbeat," the doctor confirmed, her voice warm with reassurance.

I turned my head toward the screen, blinking away tears. A tiny dot flickered. So small. So precious.

"Doctor, this… this is my baby?" I asked, my voice breaking.

She nodded, smiling. I wanted to hold onto that moment forever.

"We'll need to run further tests," she added, flipping through my file. "Given your medical history, we have to ensure both you and the baby are healthy."

I swallowed hard and nodded. The joy of the moment was momentarily overshadowed by anxiety.

After the exam, I made my way home, exhausted yet overwhelmed by the day's revelations. As I neared my apartment, a shadowy figure caught my attention. My heart stilled. I inched closer, my hands gripping my purse.

No.

It couldn't be.

"Mom?"

She stood before me, a ghost from my past. My breath hitched, my pulse hammering in my ears.

Her appearance startled me. Gone was the well-groomed woman I once knew. Her face bore deep lines, her eyes sunken, her skin pale. The years had not been kind to her. The mother who had once prided herself on her beauty now looked… broken.

"Mum…" I whispered, unsure of what to say.

She took a step forward, her expression unreadable.

"Can we talk, Rose?"

Her voice was different—strained, desperate.

I nodded slowly, leading her inside.

"How—" I began, but she cut me off.

"I don't have time for small talk, Rose. I need money."

I recoiled slightly. Of all the things I had expected, this wasn't one of them.

"What?" I asked, struggling to process her words.

"Please, I need a loan," she pleaded. "I promise I'll return it after work."

Work? Did she even have a job? I studied her closely, the desperation in her eyes unnerving me.

"Mum… what's going on? Where have you been all these years?"

She let out an exasperated sigh, shaking her head.

"Rose, just listen to me for once. I need five million."

I froze.

"Five million?" My voice came out hoarse.

How? Why? Was she in trouble?

I searched her face, hoping for an explanation, but she only tightened her grip on my arms. Pain flared through me.

"Stop crying," she snapped. "Just help me."

This wasn't my mother. Not the woman who once cared for me, who once held me when I was scared.

"Tell me the truth, Mum," I demanded, my voice shaking.

She looked away, avoiding my gaze.

"I just need the money."

"That's all I am to you? A bank?" I choked out, my stomach twisting.

She sighed heavily, frustration lining her features.

"You don't understand, Rose."

"No, I don't," I admitted. "Because you left me. You disappeared without a word. Do you have any idea what I've been through?"

Tears burned my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.

"I don't have a choice," she murmured. "Just help me this once."

Silence stretched between us.

Could I help her? Should I?

She was my mother, but she felt like a stranger.

Taking a deep breath, I finally spoke.

"Tell me what you need the money for."

Her jaw tightened. "It's none of your concern."

"Then I can't help you."

She flinched, as if struck.

"Fine." Her voice was hollow, resigned. She turned to leave.

I watched her go, my heart breaking in ways I hadn't thought possible.

Was this really how our story ended?