“Is something wrong with Noah?”
“Noah is stable,” Dr. Harrison said. “This concerns Ms. Lauren Brooks.”
The room chilled.
I felt Noah move against me.
Dr. Harrison looked at Jack, and something in his expression made Jack’s shoulders tense.
“Ms. Brooks was evaluated for contractions yesterday. They were Braxton Hicks. Not active labor. During intake, certain discrepancies came up in her chart. She made repeated statements regarding paternity and requested your information be entered in the preliminary birth records.”
Jack went still.
“Okay.”
“Because of the dispute that occurred publicly and because Ms. Brooks named you as the father in front of hospital staff, our social work and records team reviewed the basic information she provided. Her estimated conception window, her prior records, and the timeline she gave do not align with your documented location history from earlier medical forms and travel records she herself submitted.”
Jack frowned.
“What are you saying?”
Dr. Harrison’s voice remained calm.
“I am saying there are significant inconsistencies. Enough that when questioned, Ms. Brooks admitted there is another potential father.”
The roses slipped from Jack’s hand and hit the floor.
The cellophane crackled loudly.
“No,” he said.
Dr. Harrison did not blink.
“She further admitted she had not been truthful with you regarding certainty of paternity.”
Jack’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.
The doctor turned slightly toward me.
“I’m sorry this has affected your care. A hospital social worker will come by later to discuss support resources if you want them.”
Then he left.
The room became silent except for Noah’s soft breathing.
Jack stared at the fallen roses.
I watched his world collapse in real time. Not because he loved me. Not because he understood the depth of what he had done. But because the story he had used to justify destroying us had turned to ash in his hands.
He had not been trapped between two families.
He had abandoned his real one for a lie.
“She told me it was mine,” he whispered.
I looked at him for a long moment.
“And you wanted that to be enough.”
His eyes lifted to mine.
“No. Emily, no. I was confused. She manipulated me.”
“Did she manipulate you into sleeping with her?”
He flinched.
“Did she manipulate you into lying to me for months?”
His eyes filled.
“Did she manipulate you into walking away from me yesterday?”
He covered his face with both hands.
“I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“You were thinking about yourself.”
The truth of it sat between us, plain and ugly.
He lowered his hands.
“I love you.”
It was strange how little those words moved me. Once, they could have rearranged my whole day. Once, I would have searched his face for proof and built a bridge from whatever I found. Now they sounded like a key to a house that had already burned down.
