After My Lover Hit Me, I Lied About Another Man’s Baby

Ronan stayed late at Emerald Grove three nights in a row. The office was quiet after ten. Just the hum of the ventilation system and the distant beep of monitors down the hall. He sat at his desk with Astrid's file open on the screen in front of him.

He'd pulled it through the hospital system. He knew it was a violation. He did it anyway.

The records went back five years. Every visit. Every test. Every prescription. He read each entry twice. Then a third time. His eyes moved over the dates, the notes, the lab results. He was looking for one thing.

It wasn't there.

No pregnancy. No miscarriage. No prenatal visits. No ultrasound. No follow-up care. Nothing.

He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. The fluorescent light buzzed faintly. His chest felt tight.

She had lied.

Not about the affair. About the pregnancy itself. She had told him she lost another man's baby. She had looked him in the eye and said it. And he had believed her. He had believed it so completely that he had—

He stopped the thought.

His hands were shaking. He pressed them flat on the desk.

Why.

The question sat in his throat like a stone. He couldn't swallow it. Couldn't push it down.

Why would she lie about that.

He closed the file. Shut down the computer. Walked to his car in the empty parking garage. The air was cold. He sat behind the wheel and did not start the engine.

He thought about the way she had looked at him in the exam room. Calm. Steady. Like he was a stranger who happened to know her name.

He thought about her arms. The welts. The way she had sat so still while he examined her.

He thought about the three years he had spent believing she had betrayed him.

And he thought about the fact that the story he had built his anger on did not exist.

He started the car.

---

Bloom & Blush was busy when he walked in. Two customers at the counter. One browsing the shelves near the window. Soft music playing. The air smelled like lavender and something citrus.

Astrid was behind the register. She looked up when the door chimed. Her face went still.

Ronan crossed the store in four strides. He set the folder on the counter between them.

"We need to talk," he said quietly.

Astrid glanced at the folder. Then at him. "I'm with a customer."

"I'll wait."

She finished the transaction without looking at him again. Handed the woman her bag. Smiled. "Thank you, Naomi. See you next week."

The customer left. The other woman was still browsing. Astrid folded her hands on the counter and met his eyes.

"What do you want, Ronan."

He opened the folder. Turned it so she could see. "Your medical records."

Her expression didn't change.

"You were never pregnant," he said. His voice was low. Controlled. "There was no miscarriage. No prenatal care. No follow-up. Nothing."

She looked at the papers. Then back at him. "You went through my medical history."

"Yes."

"That's illegal."

"I know."

She closed the folder and pushed it back across the counter. "You need to leave."

"Not until you tell me why you lied."

"My medical history is not your concern."

"You told me you lost another man's baby." His voice cracked on the last word. He steadied it. "You looked me in the eye and said it. And I believed you."

"Yes."

"Why."

She didn't answer.

"Astrid." He leaned forward. His hands pressed flat on the counter. "Why."

She met his eyes. Her face was calm. Empty. "Our relationship ended three years ago. What I said then doesn't matter now."

"It matters to me."

"That's not my problem."

The words landed like a slap. He stepped back.

The customer near the window glanced over. Astrid's posture didn't shift. She waited.

Ronan picked up the folder. His hands were shaking again. "You owe me an explanation."

"I don't owe you anything."

She turned and walked to the back room. The door closed behind her with a soft click.

Ronan stood at the counter. The other customer was staring now. He looked down at the folder in his hands. At the papers inside that proved she had lied. That proved he had been wrong.

That proved nothing he thought he knew was true.

He walked to the door. Stopped. Looked back.

The back room door stayed closed.

He left.

---

Whitney came out from the storage area two minutes later. She found Astrid standing at the sink, hands braced on the counter, head down.

"You okay?"

Astrid didn't move. "He went through my medical records."

Whitney's jaw tightened. "He what."

"He knows I was never pregnant."

"Good." Whitney crossed her arms. "Let him choke on it."

Astrid turned on the faucet. Washed her hands. Dried them carefully. When she looked up, her face was smooth again.

"I need to restock the rose oil," she said.

"Astrid—"

"I'm fine."

She walked back onto the floor. Greeted the remaining customer. Smiled. Asked if she needed help finding anything.

Whitney watched from the doorway.

Astrid's hands were steady.

But Whitney had known her long enough to see the way she held herself. Like she was carrying something too heavy to set down.

And too sharp to keep holding.