Chapter 2 - The Announcement That Shattered the Garden
“Thank you all so much for being here today to celebrate,” I began, my voice carrying clearly across the quiet lawn. “Before we start opening gifts, I have one more pregnancy announcement to share with everyone.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Maren’s champagne flute freeze halfway to her mouth. Beside me, Gavin went completely, unnaturally still. The easy, relaxed posture vanished, replaced by the rigid tension of a man walking blindfolded over a minefield. That tiny fraction of a second told me everything I needed to know: they understood precisely what was coming, and they knew I wasn't going to protect them.
I turned my gaze directly toward Maren, holding her panicked stare. “Maren is twelve weeks pregnant.”
For a heartbeat, the backyard erupted into joyous bedlam.
“Oh my God!”
“That’s amazing!”
“Maren, congratulations!”
My mother clapped her hands together in delight, and someone near the gift table squealed about our children growing up together as best friends. But Maren didn’t smile. The color drained from her face as fast as a tide receding from a beach, leaving her skin chalk-white. Gavin’s fingers suddenly tightened around my shoulder with a painful, bruising grip.
“Tessa,” he hissed under his breath, his voice trembling. “Stop. Right now.”
I turned my head slowly toward him. He looked utterly terrified—the first genuinely honest expression I had seen on his face in nearly two weeks. I waited patiently until the cheering slowly faded into confused whispers, wondering why the parents-to-be looked like they were attending a funeral. Then, I smiled again, letting the silence stretch just long enough to build unbearable suspense.
“You should probably congratulate Gavin too,” I said, my voice sweet and crystal clear.
May you like
Absolute, deafening silence rolled across the backyard. A silver fork slipped from an aunt's fingers, clattering sharply against a porcelain plate. My mother slowly lowered her hands, her smile freezing on her lips. Gavin dropped his arm from my shoulders as if I were burning hot, and I delivered the final sentence.
“He’s the father.”
