Chapter 24
The drive home was hushed, the road a blur of darkening hedges and low lamps.
Sage's thoughts circled endlessly—James's hollow eyes, Amanda's unravelling lies, Jenny's life in chaos, even as it barely started, Ronin's stricken face in the doorway.
But through it all, there was one she needed to focus on over all the others, the light of her life, David.
By the time she pulled into the drive, the last streak of light had bled from the sky.
She sat for a moment in the car, hands on the wheel, breathing through the ache in her chest. She had come to realize over the last year that these few weeks after her period would be the time when her mind worked best, so she needed to use them.
In another three weeks, her mood will dip and her ability to get out of bed in the morning will be questionable. So, gathering herself, she stepped out.
Before she could reach for the handle, the front door flew open. Ronin stood there, wild-eyed, as if he'd been pacing and watching for her.
"Is she still here?" she asked with dread.
"No...no, I called her an uber," he said, his eyes not able to hold hers for long, flitting away before returning for another look. "I set my lawyer on her and she had finally agreed to the test. James is coming as well."
She looked at him and sighed, weariness pulling at every line of her face. "We need to talk," she said softly. "But first, I need to eat something. And then I need to rest. We've all had enough for one day."
David hovered behind his father, uncertain, his school jumper still bunched at the sleeves. Without a word, they shifted aside to let her pass.
In the kitchen, the smell hit her first. Chinese takeout, laid out in neat little paper boxes across the counter. Sweet and sour chicken. Szechuan noodles. Crispy spring rolls. Dumplings glistening in chili oil. All her favourites.
For a moment, she stood still, happy memories tugging at her—those early nights when they were just students, laughing as they fumbled with chopsticks, Ronin pretending to know what he was doing until noodles slipped down his shirt.
It had been so long since he'd thought of doing something like this for her.
Too late, she thought, though her stomach growled with hunger.
They sat together at the table, eating in silence. She kept her gaze on her plate, only looking up to murmur, "Pass the water," or to ask David about school and football practice. She did not once look at Ronin. His presence seemed to hover over her, but she treated him like a ghost.
Afterwards, Ronin rose without being asked muttering that he would do it.
He gathered the cartons, scraped leftovers into the bin, rinsed plates, and loaded the dishwasher.
She noticed how careful his hands were, how practiced.
Old skills, relearned due to necessity, she thought with irony.
Once, that might have touched her, but now it only deepened the ache of what was lost.
When the last dish clinked into place in the dishwasher, she lifted her eyes at last. They were cool, unreadable, and Ronin flinched under their indifference.
"We'll talk tomorrow about what to do," she said evenly. "But I don't want to live with you anymore."
David shifted, his fork clattering against his plate. She turned to him gently. "I would prefer if you stayed with me, but I'll leave the decision to you, David. I have to be fair. Your dad needs to work, and I'll need to find work, too."
The silence throbbed until Ronin broke it with a whisper. "Sage..." His voice cracked. "I just want to make this clear. That child...she's not mine. She can't be."
Her head tilted, her gaze steady. "You can't be sure."
"I am," he insisted as panic crept in.
She shook her head, voice hardening. "And even if she isn't, you betrayed me for two years, Ronin. Two years. That child is innocent and the least of our problems."
Her words hung between them as final as a slammed door. His blurry eyes followed her as she moved to the stairs.