Part 3A Ten Year Severance

"Quinn, terminating a pregnancy at this stage is a routine procedure, but it still takes a physical and emotional toll. You'll need a few days of proper rest afterward."

The doctor’s gentle voice echoed in my head as I walked back into our gated community. My mind was a tangled mess. If I kept this baby, severing ties with the Hayes family would be a nightmare. But the thought of ending it...

Something soft bumped into my leg.

I blinked and looked down. A little girl, barely a toddler, was sitting on the pavement in a pink puffy coat, looking up at me. She hadn't cried when she bumped into me; she just offered a bright, gummy smile.

My chest tightened. She was beautiful.

I crouched down, forcing a smile. "Well, hello there. Where are your parents, sweetie?"

She babbled happily and pointed a tiny, mitten-clad hand behind her. I looked up to see a young couple jogging toward us from a few houses down, waving apologetically. I nodded and smiled at them.

The little girl giggled, reaching out to grab my coat zipper. Looking at her soft, rosy cheeks, a sudden thought pierced through the fog in my mind.

If this second baby was a girl... maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

I was just reaching out to gently pinch her cheek when a sharp voice broke the quiet.

"What are you doing?"

I stood up. Hudson was standing on the sidewalk, his backpack slung over one shoulder, his face stormy. His other hand was tightly clasping Stella’s.

Stella gave me a polite, pitying smile. "I picked Hudson up from school today."

"I see," I said, my voice deadpan. I turned my attention back to the little girl, who was now being scooped up by her mother.

Hudson marched up to me, his voice pitching higher with anger. "I asked you what you're doing."

I glanced at him. "Saying hello to a neighbor. Do you want to come say hi?"

Hudson’s eyes instantly filled with red-hot tears. His fists clenched at his sides. "If you have so much free time to play with random kids, why didn't you pick me up?!"

He didn't wait for me to answer. "You just sit in the house all day doing nothing! You don't even act like a mom! Stella is nice and she actually pays attention to me. Dad is right. You're not even half the woman she is!"

The air was punched out of my lungs. I stared at my ten-year-old son for a long time.

"Then it works out perfectly," I finally said, my voice eerily steady. "Stella is young, pretty, and she clearly embarrassed you less at the pickup line. So why are you standing here screaming at me?"

For years, I had timed my cooking down to the minute so I could pick him up and have a hot meal ready the second we walked through the door. Hudson had complained that I smelled like garlic and onions in front of his friends. It embarrassed him.

My response only made his face twist with a deeper, uglier anger.

"Fine!" he shouted, his voice cracking. "You're going to regret this!"

He yanked Stella’s hand and dragged her toward our front door, leaving me alone on the sidewalk.