Chapter 4 Shifting Lines

Maya pushed open the creaky front door of her family home, her fingers brushing over the old brass handle. The scent of aged wood and faint lavender clung to the walls - a scent that always reminded her of her mother.

She paused at the threshold, letting the silence welcome her in like a memory.

It was strange, being back.

Stranger still, being here with someone else's , possibly growing inside her.

She placed a palm on her still-flat stomach. "We're home," she whispered.

But home didn't feel safe anymore. Not yet.

---

The next morning, Maya decided to visit the market. Just for bread, maybe fruit. She needed to show herself - to prove to her own mind she wasn't hiding.

The small corner store buzzed softly with early chatter. The scent of roasted nuts and old coffee filled the air. Maya walked in quietly, head down.

And then came the stares.

Two women by the bakery shelf leaned closer to each other. One whispered something behind her hand.

"That's the Kingston girl," Maya heard.

"Isn't her house under foreclosure?"

"Some say she's pregnant. No husband though."

"Well, what did you expect after her family's debts?"

Maya felt her throat tighten.

She turned quickly, grabbing a loaf and moving to the counter. The cashier barely looked at her.

Her cheeks burned as she stepped out into the sunlight again.

The house had always been her sanctuary. But outside of it, her reputation-what little she had-was being peeled away one rumor at a time.

And she hadn't even started showing yet.

---

Back home, she sat by the kitchen window, bread untouched. The silence of the house pressed in.

Was this what her father had felt, drowning under debt? Was this what her mother had carried when she kept a brave face?

She was doing this for them. For their memory. For the house.

But even with the contract signed, she felt like she was losing pieces of herself.

Just then, her phone buzzed.

*SPENCER CALLAHAN*

She hesitated.

Then answered. "Hello?"

"Are you up for a visit?" His voice was low, cautious. "I want to check on you myself."

Maya glanced at her reflection in the dark window - hollow eyes, faint lines under them.

-

Spencer pulled up to the old Kingston house in a sleek black SUV, out of place against the modest neighborhood. He stepped out slowly, scanning the small lawn, the peeling paint on the porch rail, the mailbox still bearing Maya's father's name.

He knocked twice.

When the door opened, Maya stood there in a faded blue sweater and loose jeans. Her hair was tied up messily, her eyes tired but alert.

"You came," she said, stepping aside.

"You said I could."

He entered the living room and took in the space - well-worn furniture, old framed photos, the scent of lemon polish and something nostalgic.

"It feels lived in," he murmured.

"It *is* lived in," she replied, shutting the door. "Barely hanging on, but still standing."

She motioned to the couch, and he sat while she moved to the kitchen. "Coffee?"

"No.Just water."

Then she returned with a glass of water and sat opposite him.

Spencer watched her closely. "Are you okay, Maya?"

She hesitated, then said, "Depends on what kind of okay you mean."

"Emotionally."Spencer added quickly.

She looked away. "People talk. They assume things. They think I'm... doing something shameful."

"It's none of their business," he said firmly.

She met his eyes. "No, but it still stings."

Spencer nodded slowly. "You shouldn't have to hide."

"Then why do I feel like I should?"

Silence again.

Then Maya sighed and stood. She walked to the mantelpiece, picking up a photo of her father and younger brother.

"I was seven when we moved in. My dad was a mechanic, my mom a nurse. Nothing fancy. But it was happy," she said. "We had one bathroom and too many arguments over who got the last piece of toast."

He smiled faintly.

She didn't.

"Then... two years ago, my mother got sick. Cancer. It was aggressive. One night, my dad and little brother rushed her to the hospital. I stayed behind. They never made it."

Spencer's face shifted - from curiosity to silence.

"Their car flipped trying to make it through a storm. She died before they even got there."

Maya swallowed hard. "And the worst part? Before they left, I told her maybe she should stop fighting. That she should let go."

Spencer's throat moved slowly. "You were trying to prepare yourself."

"I was trying to *protect* myself. And now... I carry that moment every day."

The room went still.

"Wish I left with them.I just don't know why my life got spared"Maya added in frustration.

Then Spencer said, "You're stronger than anyone I've met."

She looked at him, startled.

"I mean it," he added. "You lost everything, but you're still standing. Still protecting what's yours."

She looked up at him - really looked.

And for the first time, Spencer saw more than strength or sadness in her. He saw resilience.

And something in him cracked.

"I'm not used to people choosing things for love," he admitted. "Not where I come from."

"Then maybe you've been looking in the wrong places."

They sat quietly for a beat.

Then he pulled something from his pocket. A small box.

"Prenatal vitamins," he said. "The good kind. My assistant researched them for days."

Maya's lips twitched. "Rich people really *do* have assistants for everything."