Ian’s face filled with sympathy as he reached out to wipe her tears.
“Paula, no one will dare say a word while I’m here. On the 8th, I’ll attend the celebration as Lloyd’s father. I’ll stand by you and the boy.”
Paula’s tears turned into a bashful smile. “You’ve been running around for me these past few days. The villagers are probably already convinced you’re Lloyd’s dad.”
Ian chuckled and gently tapped her nose, his gaze tender. “Well, your ex-husband’s never around anyway. Just tell them I am!”
I watched the scene unfold, my heart a chasm of icy numbness. A bitter laugh escaped me, quiet and sharp.
Ian, if only you knew your own child, now lay in an ice-cold coffin. Would you still play pretend as the father of someone else’s child?
A cold wind swept through my chest, hollowing me out further.
I sank back into the car, closing my eyes as if shutting out the world could erase what I’d seen.
A few minutes later, the car door opened and closed.
I didn’t stir, pretending to sleep. Ian got in, humming a cheerful tune, the rhythm beating mockingly in the dark.
He didn’t glance back at me even once.
Back at his family's home, the reception was as cold as I had expected.