11#11

11

I returned to the table where Colton sat, acting as if nothing unusual had occurred. The evening's melodies continued, and the world kept turning.

Sixty days later, in the depths of night, my cellphone buzzed with an unfamiliar number. It was Preston, inebriated and mumbling, skipping pleasantries. "Did we... have a baby together?"

His intoxication was evident from his labored breathing between words. The connection crackled, suggesting he might be outdoors in the chilly air.

He must have stumbled upon the medical records I'd left behind.

Seeing no reason to keep it hidden, I responded without hesitation, even chuckling slightly as I congratulated him. "Losing the child was probably for the best, Preston. You've never been one for long-term commitments, have you?"

The line went quiet. All I could hear was a faint buzz before the call abruptly ended. He disconnected without uttering another word. No objections, no fury—just silence.