Bonnie froze. She didn't correct the child. She didn't rush to explain. Instead, she turned to Brandon, her expression softening into guilt.
"I'm sorry, Brandon," she murmured. "Being with me forces you to live in the shadows. You're such a good man, and I can't even give you the status you deserve."
Brandon leaned into her embrace, resting his head on her shoulder in practiced vulnerability.
"Just being with you is enough for me, Bonnie." His voice was soft. "I don't mind suffering a little. I just..." He paused. "I worry that I've wronged our child."
He wrapped his arms around her waist, his hand sliding down to rest possessively over her lower abdomen.
"You don't know how long I've waited for this baby. How much I've looked forward to starting a real family."
A baby?
The revelation struck like a physical blow. Before Bonnie could respond, her phone shattered the moment.
Bonnie, usually the model of professional discipline, ignored it. The ringtone persisted, grating and urgent. She declined the call four, maybe five times, desperate to preserve the mood.
Finally, with no other choice, she answered, her tone sharp.
"What is it? I told you not to disturb me when I'm off duty."
Spencer Lawrence's voice came through tight with panic.
"Captain, it's bad. We found a male corpse downstream. Forensics puts time of death as tonight."
Bonnie frowned, her hand still covering Brandon's on her stomach.
"The higher-ups say the timing is sensitive," Spencer continued. "To prevent public panic, they need you at the scene immediately."
Bonnie looked at Brandon, then at the cozy living room she had built for him.
"I have a family emergency," she lied. "I can't go."
"Captain, this is a major homicide case!" Spencer's voice rose. "A human life is at stake!"
Bonnie didn't move. She was already formulating a stronger excuse, searching for a way to brush off her duty so she could stay here in her perfect lie.
Watching her, a bitter, hollow laugh escaped me.
Before I died, I had made one last struggle. Countless times, I had called her. I begged Bonnie to come home, to just sit with me for a moment. I begged her to help me look for Mandy one last time.
I begged her to just look at me.
And now, she wouldn't even come to look at my body.
Every call ended the same way: with the sharp click of a disconnected line.