Chapter 3 - The Confrontation
It wasn't just Liv. My mother was standing on the front porch right behind her.
When I opened the front door, Mom immediately tried to push past me into the foyer, holding a Tupperware container of baked goods as if a domestic gesture could magically repair the destruction from the night before.
"Hannah, darling," Mom began, her voice high and fluttering with anxiety. "We couldn't sleep a wink last night. Liv was beside herself. We needed to come over and talk through this like a family."
Liv stood a step behind her. She looked terrible. Her eyes were swollen shut from crying, her skin sallow, her arms crossed tightly over her stomach. She wouldn't meet my gaze.
"Mark is in the kitchen," I said, stepping aside. My voice was eerily calm. "Come in. We were just talking about July 9th."
Liv flinched as if I had struck her. She lifted her head sharply, her wide, terrified eyes shooting straight to mine.
Mom paused in the foyer, looking between me and the hallway leading to the kitchen. "July 9th? What are you talking about? Hannah, you need to calm down. You were so cruel to your sister last night—"
"Mom, stop," Liv whispered, her voice barely audible.
"No, Liv! I won't stop!" Mom insisted, turning to her younger daughter with protective zeal. "Hannah is taking her medical disappointment out on you! It's not your fault that your body works and hers—"
"Mom, shut up!" Liv suddenly shrieked.
The foyer fell into dead silence. My mother gaped at Liv, completely stunned. Liv had never raised her voice to our mother in her entire life. She had always been the golden child, the compliant, delicate princess who needed constant protection.
Mark emerged from the kitchen, stopping at the end of the hallway. He looked at Liv, his expression a desperate warning. Don't speak.
I closed the front door and leaned against it, blocking the exit. "Mark says the baby isn't his," I said, addressing Liv directly. "He says I'm unhinged and crazy for even asking. He says he was just protecting your privacy."
Mom gasped, turning horrified eyes onto me. "Are you out of your mind?! You're accusing Mark and Liv? Your own sister?! Hannah, you are sick! You need psychiatric help!"
"Liv," I said, ignoring my mother entirely. "Look at me."
Liv slowly raised her eyes. Tears were streaming down her face, cutting pale tracks through her makeup.
"Are you sleeping with my husband?" I asked.
"No!" Liv sobbed, clutching her stomach. "No, Hannah, I swear to God, no! Mark isn't the father!"
"Then who is?" I asked. "Who is the father of your child, Liv? Why did you call my husband the second you found out? Why did he delete a month of text messages between you two? Why were you both covering up where you were on July 9th?"
"Because!" Liv choked out, falling to her knees on the foyer rug. My mother rushed to her side, trying to lift her, but Liv shoved her away. "Because if I told you the truth, you would hate me forever!"
"I already hate you," I said, the words coming out cold, steady, and terrifyingly sincere. "Tell me the truth so I can decide if I’m divorcing him, or cutting you both out of my life like a cancer."
Liv covered her face with her hands, her shoulders heaving with violent sobs. "It’s... it’s not Mark," she gasped out through her fingers. "The father... the father is David."
The air left my lungs in a sharp, painful hiss.
May you like
David.
David was Mark’s business partner. He was also married to my closest friend from college, Sarah.
