Page 14 of Through the Storm

Still, I knock.

She opens the door barefoot, her glossy dark hair in a messy bun, wrapped in a hoodie that definitely used to be mine.

There’s the faintest curve beneath the hoodie now. The sight hits low and hard, like I missed months of something that mattered more than anything else.

I can’t decide if I want to fall to my knees or run.

“Katy.”

She blinks when she sees me, then crosses her arms like armor. “Ben?” Her voice goes sharp. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard. About the baby.”

Her jaw tightens. “And now I’m worth more than a few texts three months too late?”

“That’s not…” I swallow. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

She lets out a short, bitter laugh. “Why do you care so much now? Because I’m pregnant? It might not even be yours.”

The words land like a punch.

“Katy.” I step closer. “That doesn’t make me care any less.”

Something flickers in her eyes—hurt, exhaustion, something dangerously close to hope—but it vanishes just as fast.

“Well, don’t,” she says flatly. “You made it pretty clear how much you cared when you didn’t even text me after that night. You don’t get to suddenly show up now.”

Silence stretches between us.

“I should’ve called right after,” I admit. “I wanted to. I just didn’t know what to say.”

“You could’ve said anything. A simplehey, Katy, how are you?OrI had fun.Or even just—” She swallows. “Anything.”

Her voice cracks. “But you didn’t.”

She steps back, gripping the door. “Go home, Ben. You don’t get to do this now.”

My pulse pounds. “Ella said you’ve got health stuff. Is the baby okay? Are you okay?”

Her expression shifts, not soft, exactly. Startled.

“We’re fine,” she says quickly. “And we’re none of your business.”

The words cut deep.

“Don’t say that,” I whisper.

“You had me,” she snaps. “And then you walked away without even a pathetic emoji. So, forgive me if I don’t swoon when you suddenly sayyou care.”

The guilt burns through me, sharp and deserved, but underneath it’s something stronger.

“I messed up.” I drag a hand through my hair. “I was scared. I didn’t know how to handle us. But this?” My voice roughens. “You? The baby? I’m not walking away.”

Her jaw tightens. “You can’t only be here because of the baby.”

I step closer, unable to stop myself. “I’m not. Katy, you know I’m not.”

Her eyes shine. For one second, I think she might let me in.