Tanya

I didn't expect to come back home feeling like this.

My legs trembled the whole ride back and I couldn't tell if it was from the cold or the shame clinging to my skin like a second layer.

I kept seeing his face. That warm, kind face that had smiled at me even though I was a stranger. Those warm hands that held me and made me feel special. An ache gnawed at my chest when I remember leaving him all alone in that room. He must be awake by now. Probably looking for me. I had slept with him and ran away, leaving no name. Not even a number but a fleeting moment of comfort in a life that had none.

It felt wrong but was it terrible that I didn't regret it? That I didn't regret feeling happy for one fleeting moment?

The cab stopped in front of the rundown apartment building I had called home since I was 12. I hesitated for a second before I bounded out of the taxi and paid my fare.

I was home.

My fingers clutched the door handle too tightly, and I had to remind myself to breathe. Whatever warmth I'd felt last night was gone now and replaced by an icy dread curling in my stomach.

I opened the door.

The apartment was as I left it — tidy, everything in place but the air still felt cold. Uncle Gerald wasn't home. If he was, the air would reek of alcohol and the room wouldn't be this clean.

I clutched my purse in my underarm and walked to my room. My footsteps echoed against the worn wooden floor as I crept inside, praying he wouldn't show up. My plan was to sneak in, take a quick shower, and disappear. I barely got a chance to do any of that before a voice thundered in the living room.

"Where the hell have you been all night?!"

I stopped dead in my tracks.

Uncle Gerald walked into the living room and slouched on the stained couch, a bottle of whiskey dangling from his fingers.

His bloodshot eyes narrowed when they met mine and I nearly flinched.

“Where the hell have you been all night?!” He repeated with a bark.

I swallowed. "I — I was just out. I needed air."

"Out?" he slurred, standing. "You think you can just walk in here like you own the damn place? Huh? Staying out all night like a whore?"

Those words infuriated me and I did what I thought I'd never do. I yelled back.

Living with Uncle Gerald would break your resolve. I'd push him away when he'd try anything with me but I'd never yell. I'd never raise my voice. He'd told me women never spoke when men did. But I was breaking that rule now.

"Don't talk to me like that. I didn't do anything wrong!"

His hand moved before I could finish. A sharp crack echoed through the room as pain exploded across my cheek. I stumbled, clutching the wall for balance, my breath caught in my throat.

"You ungrateful little bitch!" he growled, stepping closer. "You think you're grown now, huh? You think you can do whatever you want? Dress like that and parade around like a damn slut."

"I'm not a slut! Stop it!" I yelled again, backing away as he reached for me. My voice trembled, barely more than a whisper. "Please... just a stop."

But he didn't.

He grabbed my arm, tight enough to bruise. The bottle dropped from his other hand and rolled across the floor. His fingers went for my sleeve, tugging at the shoulder.

No.

No, no, no.

"I said STOP!" I screamed, panic flooding my chest. I jerked my knee up hard into his groin.

He let out a strangled cry and collapsed to the floor.

I didn't wait. I grabbed the bag from the floor I hadn't unpacked and bolted down the stairs out and into the bitter night air, running until my lungs burned and my legs nearly gave out. I didn't know where I was going. I just knew I couldn't go back. And I never would.

Part of me told me to go back to the stranger. The one I felt safe around. The one I wanted to hold me.

But I couldn't.

So I kept walking.

Hours passed. Maybe more. The city never slept, but somehow, I had never felt more alone. My feet hurt. My hands were numb. People passed me without looking twice. To them, I was just another girl with tired eyes and nowhere to be.

That was until I saw it.

A little diner tucked between a dry cleaners and a bodega. Ernie's, the sign read, glowing a soft pink under the streetlight. A tiny bell jingled when I pushed open the door.

It was warm and smelled like pancakes and coffee.

Behind the counter stood a woman with graying curls tied into a bun, wearing a navy apron and the kind of face that looked like it had seen everything.

She looked up, blinked, and smiled softly. "Sweetheart, you look like you've seen a ghost."

I didn't know what to say. My throat tightened. I must've looked pathetic. My hair was a mess and my clothes were wrinkled. Eyes swollen from crying.

"I'm sorry," I croaked. "I saw the sign. I ... I'm looking for work. I'll do anything. I just... I don't have anywhere else to go."

The woman came around the counter and placed a warm hand on my arm. "How old are you?"

"20." I lied.

She raised a brow but didn't call me out. "What's your name, love?"

"Tanya."

She looked at me for a long moment, then nodded. "Well, Tanya, I'm Ari. You're in luck. The night girl didn't show up again and I was about to lose my mind trying to run to this place on my own. You're up for washing dishes, wiping counters, maybe helping with tables?"

I blinked. "You mean... I can start now?"

"You got a place to stay?"

My silence answered her questions.

She sighed. "Alright then. You can take the cot in the back for tonight. Don't make me regret this."

Tears welled in my eyes. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

"Don't thank me yet, sweetheart. The plates pile up faster than you think."

But I didn't care. For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt safe.

I wasn't home.

But I was somewhere.

And for now, that was enough.

Weeks passed.

I was still running from Gerald, from guilt, from the stranger whose touch still lingered on my skin.

And then came the nausea.

At first, I chalked it up to stress. But when it didn't stop, I bought a test.

It came out positive.

I stared at the two lines like they were mocking me.

I was pregnant.

With the stranger's baby.

I hadn't seen him since that night. Not until he walked through the door of that cafe, dressed in black, looking like he'd stepped out of a dream I tried so hard to forget.

"Tanya?"

My knees almost gave way.

He stared at me like I was a ghost.

“Tanya!” A gasp left his lips as he crossed the distance between us and engulfed me in his arms.

The customers including Ari were left stunned.

“I…” I tried to speak but his grip around me tightened.

He buried his face in my neck. “Tanya, you left me. I woke up and you were gone.”

He pulled away, cupping my face. “I nearly went crazy looking for you. I'm glad you're here.”

I didn't know what to say. The words died in my tongue each time I tried to speak.

He took my hand in his and squeezed. “Let’s go home.”

I was stunned. “Home?”

“Yeah.” His eyes blurred with tears.

I turned to Ari and she nodded with approval.

I threw my arms around him and inhaled his scent — citrus and something else I couldn't name. I had missed this.

“I missed you.” I sobbed.

“I missed you too.”

We shared our moment together. Christian and I. His name was Christian Miller.

He looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered but my heart clenched at the secret pressed against my ribs like a scream.

He took me back to his place and said he wouldn't let me go again. That he felt something real that night. Something he couldn't forget.

I believed him but fear kept my lips sealed. Christian didn't know I was carrying his child and I didn't tell him.

Meanwhile, his maid Sarah, watched everything with suspicion. She wasn't happy the day I showed up at the mansion. And kept comparing me to some lady named Ashley.

At first, I thought Ashley would be some super model or celebrity.

Turns out she was some much more.

I found out the day she showed up at our door and introduced herself as Ashley, Christian's ex.