Henry's POV
A look of realization flashed across Camila's face, and I knew she had figured out who sent the letter.
"Have you figured out who sent the message?" I asked, a mix of curiosity and urgency in my voice.
She hesitated, biting her lip as she looked into my eyes. "I have, but I can't tell you."
My brows furrowed. "Why? Don't I have the right to know?"
Camila sighed, her shoulders tensing. "Look, Henry, I'm sorry that you found out this way, alright? But I never wanted to tell you about the baby because I didn't want to trouble you with everything." Her voice was low, almost hesitant, as if she was afraid of my reaction.
I felt something in me snap. "What the hell are you talking about, Camila? Huh?"
She took a deep breath, finally meeting my gaze. Her eyes held a weight I hadn't seen before. "Henry… I'm pregnant. And the baby is yours."
The world around me seemed to blur. For a second, I couldn't process the words that had just left her mouth. The noise from the bar behind us faded, the distant hum of the city becoming nothing but static.
She turned to leave, as if she had just told me the time instead of dropping a bomb that would change my entire life.
"Look, I need to go back inside. My friend is waiting for me," she said, her voice uneasy, as if she wasn't sure how to navigate this conversation.
I snapped out of my daze just as she stepped away.
"You're just gonna leave after telling me this?" My voice came out sharper than I intended, my frustration spilling over.
She exhaled, gently removing my grip from her arm. "Just act like you never heard about it, okay?" Her tone was soft, almost pleading.
Something inside me burned with frustration. "So this isn't as important as you going in there and flirting with some random guy, huh, Camila?"
Her head snapped toward me, her expression a mix of defense and vulnerability. "Henry, please, not now. We can't do this here." She glanced back at the entrance of the bar, clearly aware of the eyes that could be on us.
I didn't care. Not about the bar, not about the people inside. All I cared about was the fact that she had been keeping this from me.
"No, Camila, we're doing this now. You drop a bomb about a baby, and then you want me to act like it's just another day?"
Her eyes flickered with something—guilt, maybe? Fear? "Henry, you have to understand. It's not that simple. I didn't plan for it to happen like this."
I scoffed, running a frustrated hand through my hair. "Then how did you plan for it to happen, Camila? A secret pregnancy? A forged letter? And now you expect me to pretend like none of this matters?"
She bit her lip, avoiding my gaze. "I never wanted to burden you with this. It's complicated."
"Complicated?" I let out a humorless chuckle. "Damn right it's complicated!" My voice was sharp, cutting through the cool night air. "You're carrying my child, and I find out through a letter demanding I give up my parental rights? And you think I can just act like it's no big deal?"
Camila took a step closer, her gaze pleading. "Henry, I never expected it to unfold like this. I thought I could handle it on my own. I didn't want you to feel trapped or obligated."
"Trapped?" I echoed, my voice soft but laced with frustration. "Obligated? Camila, it's my child too. Why wouldn't you tell me?"
She exhaled shakily. "Because I didn't want to disrupt your life, Henry. I thought I could do this alone." Her voice cracked slightly. "But now… now everything's a mess."
I shook my head, still trying to process it all. "A mess?" I repeated. "That's an understatement."
She glanced back toward the bar, her shoulders slumping. "Can we please talk about this later? Not here."
I wanted to fight it. I wanted to demand answers now. But deep down, I knew she was right. This wasn't a conversation for a sidewalk outside a bar.
"Fine," I relented. "But we're not avoiding this, Camila. We're going to talk about it, and you're going to tell me everything."
She nodded, a flicker of gratitude and fear in her eyes. "Later, Henry. I promise."
I stood there, watching her walk back into the bar, my world tilting on its axis. My hands clenched at my sides, my heart hammering in my chest. How had everything spiraled into this chaos?
I wanted to go back inside, to demand more answers, but I didn't. She had asked for time. I had to give her that, no matter how much it burned inside me.
With a heavy heart, I turned away and hailed a cab back to my hotel. The drive was a blur, my mind clouded with thoughts I couldn't untangle.
Then my phone rang.
I exhaled sharply before answering. "Yeah?"
"Sir, did you arrive in Seattle safely?" Helen's voice was professional, as always.
"Yeah, I'm here," I said, forcing my voice to sound neutral. "Everything is going great."
"Glad to hear it," she said. "I just called to check in. I'll let you rest."
"Thanks, Helen," I murmured before hanging up.
I sat on the edge of my hotel bed, staring at the floor. My chest felt heavy, weighed down by questions I didn't have answers to.
I tried to focus on work, but my thoughts kept circling back to Camila. To the baby. To the fact that someone had gone out of their way to keep me in the dark.
After what felt like hours, I gave up on trying to think straight. I grabbed my coat and walked out into the cold Seattle night.
The chill hit me instantly, but I welcomed it.
I walked without direction, my feet moving on their own.
The city lights shimmered, casting long shadows across the pavement. I barely noticed the people around me, the laughter, the honking cars, the couples walking hand in hand.
Eventually, I found myself in front of a small park. I sank onto a bench, staring at nothing in particular.
Everything felt surreal.
People were going about their lives like nothing had changed. Like the world hadn't just shifted beneath my feet.
But my world? My world had turned completely upside down.
And I had no idea how to fix it.