Fiona pushed open her apartment door, rain still dripping from her coat, the taste of Martin's kiss lingering like a bruise on her lips. She was exhausted body heavy, mind spinning, heart bruised from the way he'd looked at her when she pushed him away.
She flicked on the light.
And froze.
Elara Flare sat on the couch, legs crossed, a half-empty cup of tea in her hand, beaming like she'd won the lottery.
"Surprise!" Elara jumped up, arms wide. "My beautiful girl! I couldn't wait another day I flew in early to start wedding planning with you!"
Fiona's bag slipped from her shoulder. Hit the floor with a soft thud.
"Mom…"
Elara rushed over, pulling her into a fierce hug. "I know, I know, I should've called, but I wanted to see your face when I showed up with all these magazines and color swatches! Marcus is going to lose his mind when he hears how many ideas I have. We can do the venue at the cove, or something grander up near the Peaks oh, and flowers! I brought samples from the shop, look"
She spun toward the coffee table, where a cascade of fabric swatches, mood boards, and a stack of bridal magazines lay spread out like a war room.
Fiona stood rooted.
The baby fluttered soft, almost confused.
Elara turned back, eyes sparkling. "So? What do you think? I figured we'd start with the dress something elegant but not too stuffy, right? Marcus said you like emerald green, so I was thinking—"
"Mom." Fiona's voice cracked.
Elara paused. Really looked at her daughter for the first time.
The smile faltered.
"Fiona? Sweetheart, what's wrong?"
Fiona's throat closed. She looked at the magazines. The swatches. The joy on her mother's face.
She couldn't do it.
She couldn't shatter that joy right now.
She forced a small, trembling smile.
"Nothing. Just… long day at work."
Elara's brow furrowed. "You look pale. Sit down. I'll make you tea ginger, right? You've always liked ginger when you're stressed."
Fiona nodded numbly. Let her mother guide her to the couch.
Elara bustled to the kitchen, humming softly, already talking about lace sleeves and rose gold accents.
Fiona sank into the cushions.
Hand on her stomach.
She closed her eyes.
Marcus.
The engagement.
The wedding her mother was already planning.
All of it gone.
And the man who'd just kissed her like he owned her… the man who'd made her feel alive and terrified in the same breath… was the father of the child she hadn't told anyone about.
She heard the kettle click off.
Elara's voice drifted in, bright and hopeful.
"So, when can we get Marcus over here? I want to talk timelines with both of you!"
Fiona opened her eyes.
Stared at the ceiling.
The rain tapped against the window.
She whispered to the baby so quiet even she barely heard it.
"We're in trouble, sweetheart."
Fiona swallowed.
She'd tell her mother.
Eventually.
But not tonight.
Tonight she'd let Elara dream.
Tonight she'd pretend the world hadn't tilted off its axis.
Tonight she'd carry the secret a little longer.
Because the truth the broken engagement, the one-night stand, the baby, the CEO who kissed her like he was drowning—would have to wait.
She touched her lips.
Still tasting him.
And wondered how long she could keep pretending everything was fine.
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