The one speaking—I recognized his voice instantly. The most vulgar one in the group chat.
Charity was already steering them toward the bassinet.
I couldn't stop them. All I could do was turn desperate eyes to Brendan.
"Brendan."
I called his name the way I always had.
He paused. Something flickered in his eyes when he saw my ashen face, my tangled hair—a brief flash of reluctance.
"What is it?"
His voice softened.
"Could you take them somewhere else? The baby just fell back asleep after crying. All this noise... it's not good for her."
The moment the words left my mouth, whatever softness had been in his expression vanished. His tone turned cold again.
"Naomi, they just came to see the baby out of kindness. Why do you always have to twist everything and assume the worst about people?"
"Charity's right. You women are all the same—overthinking, petty, making mountains out of nothing."
My nails dug into my palms until it hurt. I swallowed the pain and was about to say something when I saw Charity's hand moving again.
She'd already undone the second button on my daughter's onesie.
"Stop!"
I screamed and lunged toward her, but a pair of large hands clamped down on my shoulders, pinning me in place.