She knows

Mallory

Kian had been M.I.A the whole week.

I hadn't seen him since I told him about the baby, maybe he'd finally given up.

Giving me the space I practically begged for.

No one needed to know about this baby. No one needed to be caught up in my drama, especially not Kian.

Especially not...mam.

But just when everything was going so well. Just when I thought I had it perfectly hidden. 

She barged into my room, bringing my washing in as I stood in front of my mirror, t-shirt pushed up and looking at my growing bump.

Mam froze.

The basket of washing slipped from her hands, hitting the floor with a dull thud, but she didn't even flinch.

Her eyes were locked on my stomach.

On me

On the one thing I'd been trying to keep from her for months.

I yanked my t-shirt down so fast it nearly tore, backing away like I could somehow undo what just happened. Like I could make her forget what she saw.

"Mam—"

"How far along are you?" Her voice was sharp, shaking, like she wasn't sure if she was about to scream or cry.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. "Mam, I—"

"How far along, Mallory?"

She already knew the answer. She wasn't stupid. But hearing me say it? That would make it real.

I forced myself to meet her eyes. "Four months."

Mam's breath hitched, her hands balling into fists at her sides. "Four months?"

I nodded.

She exhaled a shaky breath, running a hand through her hair. "Four months and you didn't tell me?"

I stayed quiet. What could I say?

"I—I was gonna tell you," I mumbled, voice barely above a whisper.

"Oh yeah? When, love? When you were in the hospital pushing the baby out? When you couldn't hide it anymore?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

Mam sighed, pacing the room, shaking her head to herself. "God, I knew it. I knew something was off with you, but I didn't want to believe it. Didn't want to think my daughter would be that stupid."

That stung.

I felt my eyes burn, but I refused to let the tears fall.

"I was scared, Mammy." My voice cracked.

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "Scared. Right. And where's he in all this?"

I hesitated.

She caught it.

"Does Kian even know?"

I nodded, barely. "Yeah...he knows."

"And what? He ran for the hills?"

I bit my lip, looking away. "No. I told him I didn't want him involved."

Mam exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Of course you did," she muttered, voice laced with frustration. She looked at me then, properly looked at me, her gaze softening for just a moment. "Jesus, Mal...what were you thinking?"

I shook my head, wiping at my eyes. "I don't know."

She sighed, dropping onto the edge of my bed, rubbing a hand over her face. Silence stretched between us.

Then, finally, she spoke.

"We'll figure it out."

I blinked, my breath catching. "What?"

She looked up at me, tired but firm. "We'll figure it out. You're my daughter. This is my grandchild. We're not sweeping this under the rug, and we're not running from it."

Tears spilled over before I could stop them. "Mam..."

She held up a hand. "Don't start crying on me now, I'm barely holding it together as it is."

I let out a weak laugh through my tears, and for the first time in months, I felt like maybe—just maybe—I wouldn't have to do this alone.