She drew in a breath, but it did nothing for her. “I was leaving. My mind was already made up. I remember feeling sick all day, but I thought it was stress. Heartbreak. All of it together.” Her mouth tightened. “Then I fainted.”
I stared at her. “Where?”
“At the airport,” she said. “I woke up in the hospital.”
A cold pressure moved through me. I could see it too clearly. Edwina alone, already broken, dragging herself toward an exit she thought she had to take, then collapsing under airport lights while strangers gathered around her. All of it had happened without me. She had fallen apart somewhere in the world, carrying my child inside her, and I had been nowhere near her. I had known fucking nothing.
I clenched my jaw and waited. Then she looked up at me and finished it.
“They told me I was pregnant.”
For a second, the room stopped making sense.My hand dragged over my mouth.
“You were alone,” I said.
“Yes,” she answered. “I was.”
That single word hollowed me out. Life had handed her my child while she was alone in a hospital room, scared, sick, and already convinced I had betrayed her. The father of her baby had not been beside her. No one held her hand or told her what the hell came next. Just a doctor, a hospital bed, and the knowledge that nothing in her life would ever be the same again.
I closed my eyes for a second.
“Tell me the rest.”
When I turned back, she looked exhausted in a way sleep would never fix.
“I called my dad,” she said. “He knew I was leaving. He was already waiting for me, but the pregnancy…” She shook her head faintly. “That was a shock for both of us.”
Something in me eased and tightened at once.
Her father.
After the hospital, she had not been completely alone. Her father had come when she called, doing the job I should have been there to do.
“He helped me,” she said, her voice quieter now. “He didn’t push me for answers right away. He came, handled what needed handling, and gave me space until I could breathe again.”
I crossed my arms because my hands needed somewhere to go. “And Rhodes?”
She exhaled, and even now the answer seemed to cost her.
“I changed it.”
“I know that,” I said, sharper than I meant to. “I’m asking why.”
Her gaze met mine. There were tears at the edges of her eyes, but she did not look away.
“Because I didn’t want you to find me.”
The words cut through me because she was not trying to hurt me. She was only telling the truth, and somehow that made it land harder.I stood there and let it settle everywhere it wanted to hurt.
“You erased yourself,” I said.
“Yes.”
My jaw tightened. “You erased Carter.”
“I had to.”
“No.” The word came out rough. “You chose to.”