Thalia. Her face filled my screen, smiling that self-satisfied grin I’d always hated. She was standing with her hand placed tenderly on her stomach, her caption loud and proud: "Grateful to my baby’s father. Couldn’t have done it without you!"
My heart stopped. Baby’s father?
I sat up straighter, eyes locked on the photo. I zoomed in, inspecting every detail. Thalia, glowing with pride, looked radiant in her maternity dress. Her other hand held the hand of a man… a man whose hand looked all too familiar.
It was Rozen’s. I knew that hand like the back of my own—his distinct scar across the knuckle from a knife fight years ago was unmistakable. I felt my stomach twist into a painful knot. He hadn’t been mentioned directly in the post, but I didn’t need his name to be spelled out for me. The hand in the photo confirmed everything. Rozen had done it. He had helped Thalia, his ex-girlfriend, get pregnant. Who knows if it’s just a sperm donation or they had sex?