“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I couldn’t… I didn’t want to tell you over the phone.”
I tried to steady my voice. “So when were you planning to tell me?”
“I’m sorry,” she said again, as though that could somehow make it better.
“Sorry isn’t enough, Natalie.
Not now.” I clenched my jaw, holding back the scream I felt rising.
“Why didn’t anyone else tell me? Not even your parents?
Or Mike?”
Mike, her new husband, could have reached out. Despite how I felt about him stepping into Oliver’s life, he should have told me.
The next day, while I packed, my phone rang.
Mike’s name flashed on the screen.
My jaw tightened as I answered.
“Mike,” I said, zipping up my suitcase. “I’m coming. I’ll be there tonight.”
“Wait, Greg,” Mike said, his voice strained.
Something about the way he spoke made me pause.
“What is it?” I asked, bracing myself.
There was a brief silence, and then he said something that left me reeling.
“Natalie… she made it up.
Oliver’s alive.”
My heart raced. “What?” I whispered, unable to process it.
“Natalie lied,” Mike repeated, disbelief in his voice.
“Oliver is safe. He’s with her parents.”
For a moment, I was speechless.
My mind spun with conflicting emotions: relief, anger, confusion.
My son was alive. I had mourned him all night, and now—now Mike was saying it was all a lie.
“She… she lied?” I finally managed.
“Yes,” Mike exhaled. “She didn’t want you around anymore.
I never thought she’d go this far, but she admitted it.
She thought if you believed Oliver was gone, you’d stay away.”
Anger boiled within me. How could she do this to me?
To Oliver?
“Greg, I know this is a lot,” Mike continued. “But you had to know.
I told you as soon as I found out.”
I didn’t respond immediately.
I couldn’t. I finished packing, booked the first flight, and braced myself for the confrontation.
The flight felt endless. By the time I arrived, my anger had transformed into something deeper, heavier.
When I reached Natalie’s door, she opened it before I could knock.
Her eyes were red, tears streaming down her face.
“Greg,” she whispered.
I dropped my bags, not caring about pleasantries.
“How could you do that to me?” I asked, my voice low and seething.
“I was scared you’d take Oliver,” she said, voice quivering.
“Why would I do that?” I asked, incredulous.
Tears welled in her eyes. “I’m pregnant,” she admitted.
“I thought if you found out, you’d think Oliver should be with you.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “So you pretended our son was dead?” I shook my head, feeling fury and disbelief.
Oliver’s small voice calling out, “Daddy!” snapped me out of my rage.
He ran into my arms, and I held him tight, vowing never to let this happen again.
