Chapter 19
Saif paced the narrow hallway outside Jemma’s apartment, dragging a hand through his hair for what had to be the fiftieth time.
For thirty-seven agonizing minutes, he’d been trying to make sense of it.
Why had she been pushing a baby stroller?
Was Jasper raising a child now? Had he gotten someone pregnant?
Or was the baby… Saif’s?
The thought stopped him cold. Was he a father—and she hadn’t told him?
No. No way. That wasn’t Jemma. She was honest. Too honest. She would never keep something like that from him.
Right?
Which meant the baby had to be someone else’s. Or maybe Jasper’s?
But then he remembered that afternoon on the basketball court. They’d been shooting hoops, talking trash, panting between games. During a break, Jasper had asked, shyly, “Is it okay to be a virgin?”
Saif had taken the question seriously. “Of course it is,” he’d said, placing a hand on Jasper’s shoulder. “There’s no rush. And definitely no shame in waiting.”
Jasper had admitted it wasn’t a girlfriend pressuring him—it was his friends, all bragging about their “exploits.”
At fifteen.
Saif had laughed. “I guarantee they’re either lying or really bad at it.” Then he’d told the kid what mattered most—protecting a woman, making her feel safe, understanding the weight of real intimacy.
Jasper had looked so relieved, then they’d played for another hour after that.
That was what—six weeks before Jemma had left?
Yeah. That sounded about right.
So, no. Jasper wasn’t a father. Which left one possibility:
Jemma was the baby’s mother.
Saif couldn’t make it compute. She’d left him. Gotten a job. Found someone new. Had a baby. All in a year?
It didn’t feel real. It didn’t feel possible.
But the alternative—that the child was his—was just as hard to believe.
Because if it was his child… she would have known before she left.
And she hadn’t told him.
A ding echoed at the end of the hall. The elevator.
Saif stopped pacing.
Jemma stepped out, laughing with Jasper. Pushing a baby stroller while also pulling some sort of cart behind them.
Rylan had been right.
“Saif?” Jasper spotted him first, and for a second, the teen’s face lit up.
Saif felt it too—a flicker of warmth, of connection. Damn, he’d missed the kid. Jasper wasn’t some moody, brooding teenager. He was sharp. Curious. Constantly reading. Dreaming big.
He wanted to be a doctor.
He wanted to save lives.
He wanted to change the world.
In a flash, Jasper’s expression shifted—anger, then sullenness, followed by something harder to look at.
Shame.
“Are you here about the damage?” he asked, still pushing the stroller. The wheels bumped slightly as he came to a stop outside their door. “I got another job. I’ll pay for it. It was stupid, and I’m really sorry.” He bowed his head, then inhaled and met Saif’s gaze head-on.
Saif didn’t respond.
Because he wasn’t thinking about the damage.
He was staring at the stroller.
At the sleeping infant bundled beneath a thin blanket, wearing a red sweater and some kind of…baby outfit. Something blue. Whatever it was called, he didn’t know—he wasn’t familiar with baby clothes.
And he couldn’t tell if the child was a boy or a girl.
Or who the hell the parents were.
His gaze lifted and collided with Jemma’s. Her jaw was tight. Her chin up, stubborn. Daring him to say something.
Why wouldn’t he?
“Maybe we should take this inside?” she suggested coolly. She didn’t wait for a reply, just turned and walked toward the door, unlocking it as his bodyguards shifted to the side. Saif remained rooted, too confused—and too furious—to move.
Although furious wasn’t the right word.
It was something deeper. Hotter. A fury so sharp it had no name.
He heard the keys jingle, the soft snick of the lock. One of his guards grunted behind him, displeased with the weak security. That lock could be popped in seconds.
If the baby was his…
No. First things first, Saif warned himself.
Inside, the moment the door shut behind them, Jemma spun to face him.
“Saif, I told you the damage would be paid for. You said you’d take it out of my profits next season. So why are you here?”
Jasper stepped in, his eyes darting between them. “No. I did it. I’ll pay for the repairs.” He squared his shoulders. “I’m sorry, Saif. I was wrong. But I’ll make it right.”
Saif waved him off. “I don’t give a damn about the damage to my office,” he snapped.
They both froze.
Jemma bent to pick up the baby, and Saif couldn’t stop staring. Her skin was a soft brown—darker than Jemma’s, lighter than his—but that hair…
Black.
Just like his.
Jemma’s hair was dark, but not like that.
“Is that...?” he started, but the words caught in his throat. He already knew. The truth slammed into him so hard it stole his breath.
“Is Jayla your daughter?” Jemma finished for him, holding the baby close. “Yes. Of course.”
Saif stared at her, a storm of betrayal and confusion tightening around his chest.
She’d had his child.
And hadn’t told him.
“How could you...?” His voice came out hoarse, the pain strangling it. “You didn’t tell me.”
“I did tell you,” she said softly, patting Jayla’s back. “That first day, Saif.”
He shook his head. “You didn’t,” he hissed.
Jasper cut in, glancing between them. “Jemma?” he asked, voice low. Seeking clarification. Or maybe just the truth neither of them wanted to say out loud.
Jemma glanced at her brother, but Saif didn’t take his eyes off the sleeping infant.
“Why don’t you head to the library for a couple of hours?” she suggested softly.
Jasper might’ve argued, but Saif didn’t hear the response—just the apartment door closing, then silence.
He opened his mouth.
No words came.
Everything inside him was too twisted, too stunned, too furious to speak.
Then Jemma’s voice cut through. “Saif, you told me you didn’t want children. You said it. Multiple times.”
His gaze snapped up to hers. “I said what?” he growled.
“You told me over and over again that you didn’t want kids. I remember it vividly.”
He searched his memory, frantically. Any talk about children. About a future. Anything.
Nothing.
“Never,” he bit out, shaking his head. “I never said that.”
She rolled her eyes and walked over to a small crib, gently lowering the baby into it. Then, straightening, she looked at him.
“One time, we were at a restaurant. Someone brought a toddler. You scowled and muttered that children were a distraction.”
“At a restaurant, Jemma,” he snapped.
“And another time—granted, we were in bed—you said you were glad there weren’t any kids to wake us up. You’d just gotten back from visiting your cousin and said you didn’t know how he and his wife survived with a newborn.”
He finally tore his eyes away from the crib. “And you took that to mean I didn’t want children?”
She folded her arms across her chest. “You literally said you were relieved we didn’t have kids. So yeah. I took the hint.”
“But—”
“No.” Her hand sliced through the air. “That wasn’t the only time. Every time you came back from your family’s house, you groaned about all the kids. You mocked your sister for having two. You joked that all your cousins were ‘encumbered’ by children.”
“That was sarcasm!”
She huffed, fisting her hands on her hips. “Yeah? Well, it sounded real enough to me.”
He stared at her, fury rising again. “Are you seriously telling me you thought I didn’t want kids? That you kept Jayla from me because of a few offhand comments?”
She glared at him. “Yes! Damn it, Saif! You were the one saying how grateful you were not to have kids!” He ran a hand through his hair and Jemma huffed impatiently. “Our daughter,” she cut in sharply. “She’s our daughter.”
“And you didn’t tell me.”
“No. I didn’t. Because I didn’t want you demanding I have an abortion.”
He flinched like she’d slapped him. “I never would’ve said that.”
“I didn’t know that!” she hissed at him, her voice cracking. “Too many times, you didn’t exactly sound thrilled about the idea of kids.”
“I would’ve taken responsibility—”
“How romantic!” she snapped, voice steeped in venom now. “Jayla doesn’t need a man who ‘takes responsibility.’ She needs parents who love her. Who choose her.”
“I would have—!” he started, then stopped. Her words had triggered the memory.
He had mocked his cousins about their kids.
Repeatedly. But he’d never told Jemma the other side of that story.
He’d never mentioned how much he adored his nieces and nephews—how their little faces lit up when he visited, how much he treasured reading them bedtime stories, hearing about their school adventures, or sneaking them into the palace kitchen for midnight sundaes.
He hadn’t told her how they curled up beside him, or how playing with them in the pool was the highlight of his trips home.
But just because he hadn’t told her didn’t mean she was justified in keeping his child from him.
“What?” Jemma snapped, her temper rising. “What would you have done, Saif?” She stepped closer, eyes flashing. “Would you have settled down? Helped me raise our daughter? Bought a house? Lived happily ever after with me until—” She stopped herself, lips clamped shut.
“Yes!” he shot back. “I would have done all that and more. Without the ‘until’ you didn’t finish.
” His eyes widened as realization hit. He took a step back, then slowly returned, his expression darkening into something even more furious.
“You thought I’d leave. You thought I’d find someone else.
” His voice lowered to something rougher, angrier.
“You thought I wasn’t strong enough, or loyal enough, to love you. ”
She didn’t answer at first. But she didn’t deny it either.
“Yes,” she finally admitted, voice soft. “That’s what I thought. You’re too... everything. I didn’t think I could hold your attention for long.”
“So you ended it first,” he said coldly. “You thought if you ended it, it wouldn’t hurt as much.”
Her shoulders lifted in a half-shrug, arms folded. “No. I left because I found out I was pregnant—and I knew you didn’t want kids. But I did.”
“You were wrong,” he growled. “Wrong in so many ways.”
Saif looked down at the sleeping baby, his expression unreadable now.
Then he turned and walked out the door.
Jemma didn’t try to stop him. She stood frozen, watching the door shut behind him, her heart cracking with every step he took.
Had she been wrong?
Had she destroyed something that could’ve worked?
No, she told herself as she walked over and sat beside her daughter.
No. She had done what she believed was right.
Ignoring the tears that blurred her vision, she touched Jayla’s soft cheek and whispered through her tears, “I’d do it all again for you.”