Chapter Nineteen - Annie #2
My body betrays me in the dark. It remembers his weight over me, the press of his mouth, the way his voice sounded when he broke control and let himself need me. I curl tighter around the memory even as I hate myself for it.
I know now there’s no cutting him out. Not truly. Not with this life inside me. Every beat of its heart will be half his. Every breath I take from now on binds me closer to him, no matter how fiercely I cling to my silence.
The secret ties us together. It will, until the day it can no longer stay hidden.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand, rattling against the chipped wood. Mia’s name lights up the screen. I stare at it until the glow fades, until the vibration cuts off, leaving the apartment silent again.
A minute later it starts again. I let it ring.
By the third call, I pick up. My voice comes out flat. “Hey.”
“Finally,” she snaps, but the sharpness in her tone softens quickly. “I’ve been calling all week. What’s going on with you, Annie? You disappear, you don’t answer, you look like hell when you do show up. I’m worried.”
I press the phone tighter to my ear, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “I’ve just been tired. Work’s been… a lot.”
There’s a pause. I can picture her frown, the way her eyebrows knit when she knows I’m feeding her excuses. “That’s it? Tired?”
“Yeah.” I force a light laugh, brittle at the edges. “You know me. Overdo it until I crash.”
Her sigh crackles down the line. “No, Annie. This is more than that. You won’t tell me where you’ve been half the time. You vanish. You don’t answer texts. It’s like you’ve been living in another world.”
Her words strike too close. My throat tightens. I press my free hand to my stomach, feeling the faint swell I pretend not to notice. “I don’t want to talk about it,” I say quickly.
“Don’t want to, or can’t?” she presses.
Silence stretches. I know she hears my breath hitch, knows there’s something I’m not saying.
“Annie,” she says softly now, careful, like she’s approaching a wounded animal. “If something happened… if someone hurt you… you can tell me. You don’t have to do this alone.”
Her kindness cuts deeper than her anger. My eyes sting, but no tears come. “It’s not like that,” I whisper.
“Then what is it?” Her patience finally frays. “I’m standing here trying to be a friend, and you keep shutting me out. You’ve changed. I don’t even recognize you anymore. I’m not stupid—you’re hiding something.”
I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek, desperate to keep the truth locked in. I can’t tell her. I can’t say the word. Pregnant. I can’t drag her into this, into the shadow Dimitri left behind.
“I’m fine,” I repeat, hating how unconvincing it sounds. “Really. I’ll be okay.”
She exhales sharply, frustration bleeding through. “God, Annie. You’re lying, and you know it. I can hear it in your voice. But fine. If you don’t want to talk, I won’t force it.” Her voice hardens. “Just don’t expect me to keep watching you self-destruct without saying a damn word.”
The line goes quiet. She doesn’t hang up right away, waiting for me to break, but I stay silent. Eventually, the call clicks off.
I lower the phone onto my chest, staring at the ceiling in the dark. My hand drifts back to my stomach. I whisper into the silence, words I could never say to her.
“I can’t tell you. Not this.”
I’ve never felt this alone.
The silence after Mia hangs up is heavier than anything Dimitri ever laid on me. At least with him, I knew what I was up against—his cold eyes, his sharp words, the danger curling in every gesture. With Mia, it’s different. She’s my friend. She’s supposed to be safe. And I pushed her away. Again.
The guilt gnaws at me, but underneath it, a darker thought coils tight. Maybe I’ve ruined everything. My job, my friendships, my body, my future. All because I couldn’t stay out of his world. All because of him.
It’s all Dimitri’s fault.
I roll onto my side, arms wrapping around myself, and the weight of it hits me harder than it ever has. He cast me out like I was nothing, and now I’m here, broken, carrying the one piece of him I can never erase.
The next morning, I tell myself I’ll try. I’ll get up. I’ll go to work. I’ll pretend I’m still Annie Vale, the girl who lived paycheck to paycheck, who got annoyed when the coffee machine broke, who rolled her eyes at bosses and deadlines. I’ll fake normal.
I get dressed slowly, pulling on jeans that pinch at the waist. I force down half a piece of toast and chase it with black coffee, bitter and scorching. I sling my bag over my shoulder and step into the hallway, head down, ready to drown in the noise of the city.
It doesn’t last.
Halfway down the block, it hits; it’s sharp and sudden, a wave of nausea that doubles me over. My hand shoots out to the nearest wall, pressing hard as bile rises in my throat. My stomach twists, sweat breaking across my forehead despite the chill of morning air.
I gag, stumble into the nearest alley, and retch until my body feels hollow. My knees shake, palms braced on cold brick as I gasp for air.
There’s no brushing it off now. No flu, no stress, no convenient excuse. The truth has been circling me for weeks, and now it slams into me undeniable.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my sleeve, tears pricking my eyes though I don’t cry. My chest heaves as I straighten slowly, the world tilting under my feet.
I can’t pretend anymore.
The life growing inside me is real. Dimitri’s.
No matter how far I run, no matter how fiercely I try to deny it, I can’t undo what’s already begun.