Page 17 of Through the Storm

My mother doesn’t gasp. Doesn’t ask a question. She just sets her glass down with a soft, deliberate clink.

“Katherine.” Her tone is eerily calm. “This is unacceptable. Tell me you’re taking care of this.”

I stare at the tablecloth, my heart sinking, but I force the words out anyway. “I’m keeping the baby.”

My father’s jaw tightens. “Then you’ll need to get married immediately. Who is the father? You will bring him over so we can have a chat.”

I brace myself. “The father isn’t involved. And I’m not getting married just to make this look better.”

My parents’ faces are a mix of rage and disappointment I can’t bear to look at. My mother is the first to speak, disbelief in her voice. “You can’t be serious. You’ve embarrassed this family, Katherine.”

“What do you mean there’s no father involved? You need to think this through, Katy.” My father attempts to keep his tone gentle, but Isee right through him. He’s trying to make me do what he wants.

“It means I’m raising this baby by myself. There will be no wedding, and there will be no ‘taking care of anything.’”

Something shifts in my mother’s expression then. Just for a moment.

“Do you have any idea,” she says, her voice lower now, almost quiet, “how hard your father and I have worked to make sure no one could dismiss you? Twenty years of the right schools, the right internships, the right everything.” She sets down her glass carefully. “So that when you walked into a room, no one could look at you and see anything less than someone who belonged there.”

She sighs.

“And now you’re giving them a reason to.”

The words hurt more than the ones before, because I can almost hear the logic in them. I can almost see the version of this where she thinks she’s protecting me.

My father exhales slowly and drags a hand across his jaw. “Do you have any idea how hard this life is going to be?” he asks. Not angry this time. Almost tired. “You were supposed to have every opportunity, Katy. Every advantage. We spent years making sure of it.”

“This isn’t throwing my life away. It’s what I want.”

His expression hardens.

“Fine. Then you can forget about your trust fund,” my father snaps.

“And pack your things. You’re done here.”

The words hit like a slap.

I stare at him, waiting for him to take it back. To say anything except this.

“I expect the world to dismiss me,” I say quietly. “I expect people to judge me. I’ve always known that.” My voice shakes, but I don’t stop. “But I didn’t think I’d have to expect it from my own parents. I spent my whole life trying to make you proud. I knew the rest of the world might look at me differently after this. I just never thought it would take only one mistake for me to lose you.”

The silence that follows is terrible.

Something flickers across my mother’s face. Not softness exactly. More like the shadow of it. A door cracking open and then closing again so fast I almost miss it.

“No.” My father’s voice is final. “You made your choice.”

My vision blurs. For a moment, the room feels too small. Too quiet. Like all the air has been sucked out of it. Still, I cling to the last shred of hope that they’ll take it back.

Declan’s voice slices through the silence. “Are you kidding me?” He steps forward, placing himself in front of me without hesitation, shoulders squared, hands clenched at his sides. “She is yourdaughter,” he says, fury barely contained. “And that’s your grandchild. And this is how you respond?”

“This doesn’t concern you, Declan,” my mother says.

He laughs once, sharp and humorless. “It concerns me when you treat her like this.” He turns just enough to glance at me, then looks back at them. “If she’s not welcome here, neither am I.”

Panic surges through me. “Dec…”

“You want to cut her off?” His voice is steady now, lethal. “Then you’re cutting off both of us.”