She let out a cruel scoff. “And by the way, whoever told you the baby was even yours? Did you forget we used protection every single time? Did it never once occur to you to question it?”
My mind spun, buzzing with a blank, numbing silence. Blair’s smirk deepened, her eyes gleaming with triumph.
“So honestly,” she said, her tone mockingly sweet, “I’m doing you a favor. You should be thanking me for ending it now. Better to know the truth today than wake up old and grey, only to realize your so-called son and grandson were never yours to begin with.”
3
I couldn’t find the words. My knees gave way, and I collapsed onto the floor, helplessly watching as Blair packed her things in silence. The home we had shared for three years was being emptied, piece by piece, like our memories meant nothing.
Only when her silhouette faded through the doorway did the truth finally hit me; this wasn’t a nightmare. It was real—all of it.
I had known Blair for five years. Loved her just as long. And yet, I had never imagined that the woman I’d held each night, the one I trusted with my heart, wasn’t even worthy of being called human.