Page 72 of No Turning Back
Markus
Packing my shit to move into an apartment over someone's garage is not how I expected my thirties to go. I fold another t-shirt, one Quinn got me years ago, and shove it into the duffel bag with more force than necessary. The worn fabric stretches under my grip, and I almost hope it tears. Almost.
My phone buzzes. Mom. Again. I silence it without even looking.
The room I used to share with my wife suddenly feels suffocating, the walls closing in with every item I pack. Thedresser is still covered with framed photos I’ve been avoiding: Quinn and me at the beach, Quinn and me at her friend’s wedding, Quinn and me looking like we had our whole lives figured out.
I grab the nearest frame and flip it face-down. Then another. Then all of them.
Finding out Gabi’s baby wasn’t mine made me feel relieved, I’m not gonna lie. For a brief, delusional moment, I thought Quinn and I would just go back to the way things were. Like I could undo everything with anOops, my bad, not my kid after all.What a joke.
And then I spoke to someone, and it cracked something open in me.
Not the piece of shit therapist the courts are making me see. No. It was my dad. The guy who’d barely said more thanpass the saltat dinner for most of my life suddenly dropped wisdom on me like an atom bomb.
I sit on the edge of the bed, remembering.
When I told my ma I wanted to go to Gabi’s appointment, not because I wanted to step up but because I wanted to know about the paternity test, she waved me off. Not just once, several times. It wasn’t until I said I’d talk to Gabi myself that she finally admitted it. Gabi was seven months along. Impossible for it to be mine.
The realization had hit me like a freight train. Gabi knew. She’d fucking known all along. If she’d set me up, then she had to have known she was already pregnant when she seduced me.
That’s what I’d said,seduced me.And my dad, the quiet pillar of our family, exploded. Maybe it was the fact that my ma seemed fine with Gabi trapping me, or maybe it was just that I’d finally said something so pathetic he couldn’t swallow it. Whatever it was, he’d had enough.
I had never seen him explode like that. Ever.
“Are you fucking kidding me, she seduced you? What, did she do a little dance and big man was hooked?” Dad’s voice had boomed through the kitchen, rattling the air like thunder. His face was crimson, veins bulging at his temples. “You’re a grown man! You make your own choices!”
I’d stood there frozen, mouth hanging open like an idiot. My father, the man who’d never raised his voice, ever, was suddenly a goddamn volcano.
“I didn’t raise you to blame women for your mistakes,” he roared, slamming his fist on the table so hard the salt shaker toppled. Mom had flinched, eyes darting between us. “You cheated on your wife. YOU. Not because someone seduced you, but because you wanted to.”
“Dad-” I’d managed, my voice cracking.
“No!” He’d cut me off, finger stabbing the air like a weapon. His voice shook with rage, but underneath it was something worse: disappointment, sharp as a blade. “I’ve kept my mouth shut long enough. Don’t you dare stand in this house and act like you were tricked. Own it. You blew up your marriage. Not Gabi. Not anyone else. You.”
The silence after that had been deafening. I hadn’t had a reply, because what the hell could I have said?I’m sorry? Didn’t mean to?The way he was looking at me, I half-expected him to throw a punch.
“Marco, please-” Mom had started, voice trembling.
Dad snapped his head toward her, eyes blazing. “Don’t. What were you hoping would happen after you lied? This obsession with having a daughter-” his voice had cracked, just for a second-“is gonna cost you your only son.”
After that, we’d gone silent again. Each of us drowning in our own misery. I’d hightailed it out of there, and when I came home that night, it hadn’t even felt like home anymore, more like I was trespassing in someone else’s house.
I’d tossed and turned until morning, Dad’s words echoing in my head:You did it. You ended your marriage. Own up to it.Jesus, if he ever found out the shit I’d been pulling with my lawyer, he might’ve actually shot me.
So, first thing the next morning, I had texted Anna:I’m ready to sign. The original papers.Then I silenced my phone and, for the first time in months, slept like a baby. Slept so well I forgot the mediation was that day.
Anna had to show up and practically kick down my door to remind me. She’d brought the papers along too, confirming what I’d meant in the text. When I asked why, she said, “Because I was hoping you’d come to your senses before the judge leaves you homeless.”
So, I signed then and there. And that was that.
Yesterday, a judge ended my marriage officially.
Kate wouldn’t even look at me in the courtroom. Like I disgusted her. Honestly, I disgusted myself.
Halfway through packing the kitchen, there’s a knock at the door. And the last person I’d ever expect is standing on the other side.
“Kate?” I blink at her. “What are you doing here?”
