The air in the packed auditorium felt heavy, thick with the murmurs of worshippers lost in reverence. The choir's voices soared, harmonizing in praise, but to Bianca, it was just noise—meaningless noise.
She sat rigidly in the front row, fingers gripping the edge of her seat as if it were the only thing tethering her to the moment. Around her, men were tailored in pristine suits, women adorned in extravagant hats, their smiles tight and eyes sharp. The entire room was draped in performative holiness, and the stench of it turned her stomach.
She was supposed to be here, listening intently to her father's sermon. Present. Obedient. Grateful.
But her mind was elsewhere—trapped in a message that had shattered her fragile composure just hours before.
"He's not some secret you can lock away, Bianca. He's your son, and he deserves more than this silence."
Liam's words echoed through her like a curse she couldn't shake. She had read the message before leaving for church, and now it played on repeat in her head, dragging her back to a past she had tried so hard to bury.
A child.
Her child.
The one only Naomi knew about.
Bianca shifted in her seat, her breath catching as if the very air had thickened. She felt exposed, as though everyone could see the truth written on her face. Could they tell? Could they feel the tremble in her hands, the pounding of her heart?
At the pulpit, her father's voice boomed with righteous conviction. The congregation clung to every word, but Bianca couldn't even register what he was saying.
Hypocrite.
The word surfaced unbidden, sharp and bitter. How could he stand there, preaching about love and holiness, while forcing his daughter into a marriage built on lies and convenience?
Her fingers curled into tight fists, nails biting into her palms.
If David were still alive, this would be different. Her brother would've protected her—stood up for her like he always had. But he was gone now, and with him, any shred of hope that she'd be seen, truly seen, by anyone in this church.
When the service finally ended, Bianca barely had time to breathe before a familiar face appeared beside her.
"Congratulations, dear," an older woman said warmly, patting her hand.
Bianca blinked. Congratulations?
"I pray the Lord blesses your union."
So it was public knowledge now. Her father hadn't wasted any time.
She forced a tight smile. "Thank you," she murmured before excusing herself. The weight in her chest grew heavier. This wasn't just a private decision anymore—it was a spectacle. A church-approved alliance. A pawn moves in her father's game.
The moment she stepped outside, the sunlight stung her eyes. It felt harsh, almost cruel, like the world itself was mocking her pain.
Naomi stood waiting at the base of the church steps, arms crossed, brows pinched with concern. When she caught sight of Bianca's expression, her posture softened.
"Bianca…"
Bianca didn't answer. She couldn't. The words felt stuck in her throat, choked by the pressure that had built all morning.
Naomi stepped closer, her voice gentler this time. "Talk to me."
Bianca let out a dry, humorless laugh. "What's there to say? My father's selling me off like some trophy, and everyone's throwing a parade."
Naomi reached for her hand, squeezing it. "You're not alone in this, B."
"Aren't I?" Bianca rasped. Her voice trembled. She turned away, pressing her fingers to her temples like she could force the thoughts to stop. Her hand dipped into her purse, pulling out her phone with trembling fingers.
She stared at the screen.
The message was still there.
Still real.
Naomi leaned in slightly, catching a glimpse. Her eyes widened. "Is that…?"
Bianca nodded.
"Oh my God." Naomi's hand flew to her chest. "Liam messaged you?"
Bianca nodded again, slower this time. "Yeah."
"What did he say?"
She hesitated. Saying it out loud would make it more permanent. More painful.
"He's talking about… him."
Naomi's eyes darkened with realization. "Your son."
The word struck Bianca like a blade. Her breath faltered, and this time, she couldn't hold it back. A sob tore through her chest.
Naomi was on her in an instant, wrapping her arms tightly around her. Bianca clung to her like a lifeline, the weight of years of guilt and silence crashing down in one overwhelming wave.
"I don't know what to do," Bianca choked. "Naomi, you know why I did it. I was scared—scared of my father, of the church. Of everyone."
Naomi pulled back, her hands cupping Bianca's tear-streaked face. "You have a son, B. You can't pretend he doesn't exist."
"I'm being forced into a marriage I never asked for," Bianca whispered. "And now Liam… he's making me face everything I've tried so hard to forget."
Naomi hesitated, then asked quietly, "Do you still love him?"
Bianca's breath caught in her throat.
Did she?
Liam had been her first love—her first everything. A part of her still ached at the thought of him, even after everything that happened. But love hadn't been enough to stop her from making the hardest decision of her life.
"It doesn't matter," she said, voice barely audible.
"It does," Naomi said firmly.
"No, it doesn't," Bianca snapped, stepping back. "Because no matter how I feel, I still have to marry a man I don't even know. I still have to act like my son doesn't exist."
Naomi didn't argue, but her expression said everything.
Bianca took a deep breath, forcing her shoulders back. "I have to go."
Naomi didn't stop her, but her voice followed, quiet but resolute.
"At some point, you have to decide what kind of life you really want."
Bianca paused, fingers tightening around her purse strap, but she didn't turn back.
She kept walking—away from the church, away from Naomi, away from everything she couldn't face.
But some things don't stay buried forever.
As she reached her car, the wind shifted, rustling the hem of her dress and raising goosebumps on her skin.
Her phone buzzed again.
Same name.
Same message thread.
Her hand hovered over the screen for a second longer this time.
Then, without unlocking it, she dropped the phone into her bag.
She wasn't ready.
But ready or not...
The past had already found its way back to her.