Chapter 126
OLIVIA’S POV
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I think I need to inform my parents about this. At first, I convinced myself it wouldn’t be a big deal when I found out I was still pregnant–like it would just be another secret I could carry on my own until I figured everything out. But I was wrong, This is bigger than me now, and the more I delay it, the more real it becomes.
Still, something tells me that if I call them, they’ll advise me not to tell Adrian anything. Not just because they want me to come over to Mexico as soon as possible, but because of everything I’ve told them about him. From the beginning. I painted Adrian as this cold, arrogant, emotionally unavailable man who didn’t hesitate to raise his hand at me. And at the time, that’s exactly who he was. But now now I don’t know what to believe anymore.
Has he changed, or is it just an act? A temporary mask he wears when the guilt kicks in?
The sound of the shower shutting off pulled me out of my thoughts. I blinked a few times, realizing just how long I had been sitting here in silence, lost in a whirlwind of memories, doubts, and what–ifs. I reached for my towel robe, pulling it over my shoulders just seconds before Adrian stepped out of the bathroom, his hair still dripping wet and clinging to his forehead. He barely glanced at me before walking toward his closet, and that distance between us felt louder than words.
I slipped past him into the steamy bathroom. The mirror was fogged up from the heat, a perfect blurry reflection of my current state–unclear and uncertain. I shrugged off the robe and wiped a patch of the mirror clean with my palm. My eyes fell on my body. My breasts had grown noticeably bigger, fuller–and strangely, I liked it. I turned from side to side, gently placing a hand on my rounded stomach. The baby bump wasn’t too obvious yet, especially under loose clothes, but I could feel the changes happening. My body was shifting, preparing, becoming something new–and I hadn’t even begun to emotionally prepare for it.
After my shower, I dried off and dressed in one of my oversized jalabiyas, the fabric loose enough to hide my bump. I left the room quietly, hoping to pass unnoticed.
But as I descended the stairs, I paused mid–step when I saw him. Adrian was at the bar area, talking with Isadora. The sight hit me in the chest like a soft but unwelcome thud. I wasn’t jealous, not exactly. But something about it didn’t sit right with me. Well, they were together, I think, so they had every right to talk and play love but the way he actually looked relaxed. It made me question things I didn’t want to question.
And that right there–that tension, that unease–it was one more reason I couldn’t stay in that house. Whatever was growing between us, or pretending to, wasn’t enough to erase the history that lived in these walls. The toxicity of everything that had gone down, of who we were, or still might be, was too much for me to raise a child in. I needed clarity. And maybe my parents, no matter how stubborn or biased they may be, could offer a voice of reason. Even if I didn’t agree, I needed to hear what they had to say.
As I arrived at the door, I raised my hand to knock–then stopped. A strange calm settled over me as I realized something: this was still my home too. I didn’t need permission to walk in
As I walked in, the warm, familiar aroma of home instantly wrapped around me. The scent brought with it a subtle wave of nostalgia I hadn’t expected. Just as I was hanging up my bag, my mom came out of the kitchen, wearing an apron and holding a wooden spoon like a weapon of tradition.
“Mi amor, I was just expecting you,” she beamed, wiping her hands on the apron. “I decided to make your favorite snack from when you were little.”
She looked so pleased with herself, a mix of excitement and a mother’s love shining in her eyes.
“Do you remember?” she asked, already closing the space between us for a hug.
I chuckled, leaning into the embrace. “I don’t think I’m supposed to remember something that far back, Mom.”
“But from the smell that’s coming off you…” I trailed off, sniffing the air again and smiling. “I’m guessing spaghetti tacos?”
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Chapter 126
25 May
12%
+15
Her face lit up like it was Christmas morning. “Yes! See? You loved spaghetti tacos so much when you were little. You might not remember now, but I’m sure when you taste it, the memories will come flooding back.”
She linked her arm through mine and led me into the sitting room, practically glowing with enthusiasm.
As I sat down, I cleared my throat, trying to refocus. “We need to talk about something.”
“Yes, we do,” she said, nodding, her tone shifting slightly. “We still have a lot to talk about.”
“No, I mean… this is important,” I emphasized, leaning forward slightly.
She gave a small nod but quickly said, “Okay, okay, but first let me get the tacos. I promise, just a second.”
Before I could protest, she darted back into the kitchen.
A few seconds later, she returned with a tray filled with neatly arranged spaghetti tacos. They looked almost too perfect, just like the ones she used to make—if I could even remember that far back. She set the tray down with a little flourish, the smell teasing my senses.
“Have a bite,” she encouraged, eyes sparkling.
I hesitated, wanting to resist so I could get to the point of my visit faster. But I knew—if I didn’t at least try one, the conversation would never move on. So I picked one up and took a bite.
And wow… they were better than I expected.
“Tell me–are your memories coming back now?” she asked, hopeful, leaning toward me like a child waiting for approval.
I blinked. “Wait, what? What memories are we talking about?”
Her expression faltered just a little. “Your childhood. When you were five before everything changed. I thought maybe the taste would trigger something.”
“Mom,” I said softly, setting the taco down. “There are some things the human brain just doesn’t hold onto. But this?” I smiled. “This is really good, though.”
Her eyes dimmed slightly, and for a moment I saw disappointment flash across her face. Maybe she had imagined I’d suddenly jump into her arms like a little girl again, or recall some sweet moment we’d shared in the kitchen.
“I’m glad you like it,” she said, regaining her smile. “And I’m sure that little guy inside you likes it too.”
I took a sip of water and gently wiped my mouth with a napkin. “About that…” I started carefully.
She tilted her head, sensing the seriousness in my tone.
“I’m guessing you and Dad want me to give birth in Mexico, right?”
“Of course,” she replied immediately. “They have some of the best hospitals in the world, and you’d be surrounded by family.”
I nodded slowly. “Yeah, I get that. And I appreciate it. It’s just… there’s one small issue that’s been weighing on my mind for a
while now.”
“Okay,” she said, placing a comforting hand on my arm. “Tell me.”
I took a deep breath. “I want to tell my husband he’s the father before I leave.”
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