How could I forget such an important thing?
I quickly filled the silence.
"I was going to," I said, forcing a smile, my voice too bright. "I just… wanted to be sure first. And I've been feeling off. Morning sickness and all."
"Still, something like this…" her tone was gentle, but laced with that distinct maternal reprimand. "You should've told me, Selena."
I swallowed hard.
"I know, Mum. I'm sorry." I said, meaning it in more ways than one.
There was a pause. Not awkward, just… quiet. Like we were all dancing around something but couldn't name it yet.
Killian leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "She's been doing great, though. We already started appointments with the family doctor. He says everything's looking good."
My mother nodded again, offering a faint smile. "That's good to hear."
I returned to my seat beside Killian, and his arm instinctively came around me again, fingertips brushing my shoulder. I leaned into it slightly, out of habit more than comfort.
But I could feel her watching me.
Not accusing.
Not angry.
Just... watching.
And I suddenly felt like a child again, trying to keep a secret under my mother's gaze, wondering if she could see straight through me.
Just then, Killian's phone began to vibrate on the side table. He glanced at the screen, sighed, then stood.
"Sorry, it's work," he muttered, already walking away. "I'll take it upstairs."
I nodded without looking at him, and he leaned down to press a kiss to my temple before heading out.
The moment the living room door shut behind him, silence fell again, a thick, heavy silence that pressed on my shoulders.
I didn't have to look to know my mother was watching me.
She waited and I could feel it, the stillness, the inhale she took like she was steadying herself.
"Come," she said softly, standing up and brushing imaginary lint off her skirt. "Walk with me."
My heart thudded once and hard but I followed her without a word.
She led me down the hall and into the library, closing the door gently behind us. The soft click of it sounded too final. Too deliberate.
She turned to face me, arms folded. "Sit."
I sat, but she stayed standing, towering over me in my seated position.
Her eyes ran over me, scanning every inch like she was trying to piece together something only she could see.
Then, finally, she said it, not in anger, not even in accusation, just... truth.
"You're not Selena." My heart dropped. "So, Serena… what are you doing here?"
My heart dropped.
You're not Selena.
She didn't say too much, not what happened, not explain yourself.
Just that simple question and yet it carried the weight of everything I'd tried so hard to hide.
My lips parted, but nothing came out.
What could I even say?
"She begged me," I whispered at last, my voice cracking. "Mum… she begged me."
Her shoulders slumped, but she didn't look away. "That still doesn't answer the question, Serena. What are you doing here? Living in her house? With her husband? Carrying a child for her husband?"
Tears pooled in my eyes, but I didn't blink them away.
"She was desperate. She said it was temporary. She promised she'd come back soon." I looked down at my hands. "I didn't plan for it to go this far. I didn't plan to… to get pregnant, maybe she asked me of it but I was going to get an abortion when she gets back. Or to feel—"
"Don't," my mother cut in gently, her voice trembling. "Don't tell me you feel anything for that man."
I went silent.
She moved closer and knelt in front of me, her hands reaching out to hold mine. "Serena, I raised you better than this. I know you. You're responsible and you've always carried too much for others, but this?" She shook her head. "This isn't you."
"I know," I whispered. "I know, Mum."
"And Selena?" she asked, her jaw tightening. "Where is she now?"
I looked away.
"She said she'd explain everything. She said there was more, that she was pregnant and she needed me to get pregnant too but… she never really did tell me anything else. Just kept dodging the questions."
My mother sighed and stood again, her eyes tired now. "You have one day, Serena. One. Tell your sister to come home and clean up this mess herself or I will."
I nodded slowly, the tears finally slipping free. She gave me one last look, not cruel, not unforgiving, just deeply disappointed, and walked toward the door.
She stopped at the door, hand hovering over the knob. Then she turned slowly, eyes burning into mine with a new sharpness.
"In fact, call her now," she said. "I want to speak to her myself."
My heart skipped a beat.
"Mum…"
"Now, Serena." Her tone left no room for protest. It was the voice of the woman who used to pull us apart when we fought as kids. The voice that didn't yell, but always made us obey.
With trembling fingers, I reached for my phone on the table. My hands were shaking so badly I almost dropped it.
Selena's number was already in my recents, of course it was.
I pressed it.
It rang.
And rang.
And then—
"Ser!" her voice chirped through the speaker, cheerful and breathless. "Hey, I was just about to—"
"Selena," I cut her off, voice low and hoarse, "Mum's here. She wants to speak with you."
Silence.
Then a quick, panicked, "Wait, what? Now? Why?"
"I said give me the phone," Mum repeated, extending her hand, her eyes fixed on me.
I handed it over, and for a second, I almost pitied my sister.
Almost.
"Selena," my mother said calmly, like she wasn't ready to rip someone apart. "This is your mother. I don't care where you are or what excuse you're about to cook up. You have exactly one day to come back to your home and face this disaster you created. One day."
A pause.
"No, no explanations. I don't want to hear your voice again until I see your face. Twenty-four hours."
Then she hung up without another word and gave the phone back to me. I didn't ask what Selena said. Because whatever it was, it clearly didn't matter.