Page 88 of Heart of The Night

After we had brushed our teeth, he lifted me into his arms and carried me back to bed, the freshly changed sheets feeling like paradise. He tucked me in, then snuggled up behind me, spooning me with a protective tenderness. Sleep quickly claimed me, William’s warmth and presence the last thing I felt before drifting into dreams.

20 | say something

CARA

The periodic hum of something vibrating against a hard surface stirred me awake. Through the fog of sleep, I registered the distant sound of the shower running. I blinked against the bright morning light, my eyes slowly focusing on the source of the closer, more insistent noise. William’s phone was skittering perilously close to the edge of his nightstand, its persistent buzzing sending it inching sideways with each vibration.

I lunged toward it, my fingers closing around it just as it tipped over the edge. I exhaled in relief, holding it aloft for a brief moment of triumph. But when I was about to put it away, the name on the screen froze me in place.

Apprehension surged through me, a cold wave that left me breathless.

Francesca Strafford. The name that should have been buried in his past.

William had promised he was done with her, that she was nothing but a memory. But now, with her name flashing on the screen, my mind raced.

I thought back to the last week, to William’s erratic behaviour. One moment, he was distant, almost cold, barely acknowledging my presence. The next, he was overwhelmingly attentive, finding any excuse to be close to me. The wild swings in his demeanour, which I’d chalked up to stress, now seemed to take on a more sinister hue.

Why was Francesca calling him? The question echoed in my mind, each repetition feeding my growing dread. I had trusted him, believed him when he said it was over. But now, doubt consumed me, the unease I’d pushed down bubbling up uncontrollably.

The sound of the shower continued, a steady backdrop to my spiralling thoughts. I glanced toward the bathroom door, half-expecting William to step out, a towel slung around his hips and a disarming smile on his face. But he didn’t. I was alone with the vibrating phone and my mounting suspicion and fear.

I tightened my grip on the phone. I knew I had to confront William, had to get to the bottom of this. But the uncertainty was crippling. What if he lied? What if the truth was even worse than I imagined?

I stared at the screen, the name still glaring up at me. Should I answer it?

My heart pounded in my chest as I accepted the call and brought the phone to my ear. ‘Hello,’ I managed to say, my voice steady despite the turmoil within me. ‘William can’t come to the phone right now. Can I take a message?’

There was a brief pause on the other end, filled with the crackling of distant static.

‘Who is this?’ Francesca’s tone held a sharp edge of curiosity, almost suspicion, likely because she heard a woman’s voice.

I hesitated. If I gave her my name, she might recognise it, and I wasn’t sure I wanted that.

‘I’m … a friend.’

Another silence, heavier this time. ‘A friend,’ Francesca echoed, her voice saturated with scepticism. After a beat, she added with a note of superiority, ‘Well, friend, please tell William that I’ll be back in a week, so we can take the paternity test then.’

Her words hit me like a physical blow, knocking the breath from my lungs. My grip tightened on the phone as the room seemed to tilt around me.

Paternity test. It echoed in my mind, a cruel chant.

Francesca kept speaking, but her words barely registered as the full weight of what she’d said settled over me.

She was pregnant. And William might be the father.

‘Hello? Did you hear me?’ Francesca’s voice cut through the haze, sharper now.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to respond. ‘Yes, I… I’ll tell him.’

‘Good,’ she said, the word dripping with finality. The line went dead, leaving me in a silence that felt oppressive, the phone still clutched in my hand.

I stared blankly ahead, struggling to process the revelation. My mind whirled, trying to piece together the fragments of information, to make sense of the betrayal that now seemed irrefutable. William’s erratic behaviour, his defensiveness when I asked about her, it all clicked into place with sickening clarity. He hadn’t been stressed or distracted because of work; he’d been hiding this, hiding her.

Just then, the bathroom door opened, and William stepped out, a copper-toned towel slung low around his hips, that disarming smile on his face. For a moment, I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, the enormity of what I’d just learned paralysing me.

His smile faltered as he saw me sitting there, his phone in my hand, my expression undoubtedly revealing the storm of emotions within me.

‘Cara?’ he called, his voice cautious. ‘What’s wrong?’

---