“Hello, George,” he said softly, his voice breaking over the two simple words. I could see Suzanne over his shoulder, covering her mouth with her hand as she looked on. It was a special moment.
I offered my dad to hold the baby, and he seemed as excited as a little boy as he took George in his arms. He cradled his head in the perfect way, holding him close and looking at him fondly. I could already see the bond forming between them, and I was grateful my dad had heard my son cry.
This was going to happen sooner or later, and I had been wrong to keep them apart. They were family, and my dad deserved to meet his grandson.
“How old is he?” Dad asked with a shaky voice.
“Three months and two days,” I replied with a small smile. It grew wider as I watched him coo at the baby, cradling him close to his body.
Suzanne walked over to me, holding my shoulders as we looked at two generations connecting in front of our eyes.
My father spent an hour in the nursery, unable to tear his eyes off George until it was time for him to nap again. We tucked him in together and finally retreated downstairs. Suzanne politely excused herself, and finally, it was just my dad and I.
I put on the teapot and prepared a hot drink for us, bringing the steaming cups to the kitchen table. My house was quaint but cosy and I loved it there. It was definitely an upgrade from the apartments I’d stayed in during the past few years.
We sipped our tea in silence and a blissful smile was playing on my father’s face. It made me ridiculously happy, but I knew I would soon be bombarded with questions.
The moment came sooner than I thought it would and my Dad furrowed his brows as he gave me a stern look.
“Mila... why didn’t you tell us?” he wondered out loud.
Ashamed, I looked at the table, fidgeting with my coaster. “I was embarrassed. I’m not married, I don’t even have a boyfriend. I didn’t want to burden you with my problems, Dad.”
“This isn’t a problem, though, honey,” he interrupted me gently. “It’s a baby - a blessing.”
I gave him a grateful smile, my eyes already filling with tears. But I knew this wasn’t the toughest question he’d ask me today.
“Who is the father?”
There it was, out in the open. My hands trembled as I set my cup down and put them in my lap, shaking like a leaf.
I could have lied. I was going to. I had a made-up story for this question which I’d used plenty of times and rehearsed to perfection. But something came over me and for the first time, I decided I would tell someone the truth.
“He’s Devan’s son,” I admitted, my voice breaking over the confession.
I heard a gasp at the door, and my eyes flew to the sound, finding Suzanne there. She hadn’t known - I hadn’t told a soul, not even my cousin who was also my closest friend, my saviour.
Finally, my eyes landed on my father who was giving me a hard look. He reached out for me and I pulled my hand from my lap, enjoying the comforting touch of my father’s palm over mine.
“Does he know?” he asked quietly as Suzanne joined us at the kitchen table, wrapping me in a big hug. I could feel her tears falling down on my hair.
I held them both, my dad with my hand and Suzanne with my free arm, as I shook my head. “No, he doesn’t know. And neither of you can tell him.”
“He has a right to know,” my dad told me gently, but I shook my head immediately.
“He... He can’t disrupt my life again, not now. Finally, everything is working out and I can’t risk it. Please... just don’t tell him.”
An uncomfortable silence lay between us as I looked at my father and cousin. They both nodded, though they seemed displeased, and I was as relieved as I was disappointed.
Deep inside, I wished Dev would know. I wondered whether he’d come and see us... Make everything right.
Even with Suzanne’s help, being a single mother was no walk in the park. Besides, I still longed for his touch, his feverish kisses, the bulge in his jeans as he touched me.
But no one could ever know. I had made my choice.
26
Devan
After a lot of talking and even more convincing, I had my first little victory since my wife left me. I managed to convince my mother and stepfather to give me Mila’s new address.
I didn’t hesitate for a moment; what did I have to lose? I booked a flight immediately and headed to Mila’s new house. I was standing a few feet away from a house behind a tree, checking the piece of paper in my hand to make sure the address I had was right.
I was a little surprised - I had always thought Mila was barely getting by, but the house in front of me was lovely. Albeit small, it seemed cosy and a great place to live in a calm neighbourhood.