Jasper's expression shifted. He scrambled to cover his neck with his hand, panic written across his face.
Hilda's look of pure disgust cut through him. He clutched his collar and snarled, "Do you really have to do this, Hilda?"
"I really am in a difficult position. Why won't you believe me?"
"It was just this once, I swear. It was an accident. It'll never happen again."
"I know you hate me, but you still have your grandma. Think about her, will you? I've been paying every cent of her medical bills. If we break up, what happens to her?"
"And I've wanted to bring you home to meet my family, I really have. But Hilda, people have hang-ups about death. How am I supposed to explain what you do for a living?"
"I'm under a lot of pressure too, but I've never once asked you to sacrifice anything for me, have I? Can't you at least try to understand?"
Half confession, half excuse. But Hilda could no longer tell the difference.
His voice sliced through her skull like a serrated blade, and the pain blurred her vision.
Jasper lost patience. He lunged forward and snatched her suitcase.
The sudden yank sent Hilda stumbling. Her vision went black, and her legs gave out beneath her.
She dreamed.
She dreamed of Jasper holding her hand as they skipped class to watch the sunset over the ocean, swearing in the perfect silence that he would love her for the rest of his life.
She dreamed of Jasper stepping in to fight off some thugs for her, getting hurt in the process, wincing through the pain while still telling her not to cry.
She dreamed of the Fairmonts discovering their relationship and dragging him home, locking him away. Jasper jumping from the fourth floor, shattering his leg, forcing his parents to relent.
And then she dreamed of Grandma Nora. The tiny old woman took her hand and said, Sweetheart, all I want is for you to be happy.
A shrill ringtone dragged her back.
An IV drip was taped to the back of her hand. Jasper was gone. A note on the nightstand said something had come up at the office.
She might have believed it, if not for the photo that had just arrived from an unknown number on her phone. A photo of a kiss.
When she answered the call, the other end stayed silent for a long time. Just as her patience was about to snap, a man's hoarse voice broke through.
"Is this Hilda Summers?"
His voice trembled, the words tumbling over each other.
"Hilda, hello. I saw your file at the doctor's office. I'm sorry for the intrusion, but there's something I need to confirm."
"Would you be willing to come in and take a paternity test with me?"
Even the expedited results would take at least two days.
The middle-aged man carried himself with an unmistakable air of wealth, yet he stood off to the side, fidgeting, opening his mouth and closing it again. Finally, all he managed was her name. "Hilda," he said, eyes rimming red. "That's a beautiful name."
With shaking hands, he reached into his breast pocket and produced a photograph. In it was a child, five or six years old.
He said the child had been wearing a small gold locket engraved with the family name when she went missing.
Hilda stared at the photograph for a long time, her thoughts tangling into knots.
Of course she'd seen that locket.
Grandma Nora had treasured it. It had paid for nearly half her schooling.
"This is insane," Hilda told her friend. "It feels like the first twenty-some years of my life were a lie, and now everything's been turned upside down."
They were sitting at a banquet. Hilda had tagged along on her friend's business trip, planning to check into a hospital to recover before dealing with everything else.
Her friend suggested, "Why don't you just ask your grandma what's going on?"
Hilda's hands went still.
Some things, once spoken aloud, had to be remembered all over again. And every time they were remembered, the grief came flooding back. Her fists clenched until her nails bit into her palms. She couldn't speak.
Her friend, oblivious, kept going. "I keep forgetting to ask. How's your grandma doing?"
"I heard she collapsed at Jasper's company that day. Is she okay?"
Hilda whipped around. "What did you just say?"
Her friend blinked. "You didn't know?"
"I was at Fairmont Group that day for a meeting. Your grandma was stopped at the front desk by some woman. The woman was pretty hostile, throwing around words like homewrecker. Then Jasper showed up."
"Their relationship..." Her friend studied Hilda's face carefully before continuing. "It seemed a little too close for comfort. Did Jasper ever mention her to you?"
"After I left, I heard your grandma had fainted. I went back to check but couldn't find her. Jasper was there, though, so I figured she was taken care of."
Her friend trailed off, startled by the look on Hilda's face.
"Hilda? Hilda, what's wrong? Why are you crying? Did something happen?"
Hilda shook her head. She bit down hard on her lip and pressed both hands over her face.
So Grandma had gone to see Jasper that day. She'd known everything.
How angry must she have been when she left? How heartbroken?
Hilda forced a smile at her friend, but in the next instant, a wave of grief so heavy it seemed to drag every feature of her face downward swallowed it whole.
She didn't even bother making an excuse. She stumbled to her feet and left the table, barely holding herself together.
