You and Spencer had a son Koda, who was 11 month old, no one knew about him and you wanted to keep it a secret since it wasn’t really something to be proud of being teenager parents.

The classroom was quiet except for the scratch of pens on paper and the steady voice of Miss Parker explaining the lesson. You tried to focus, but your phone buzzed in your pocket—once, then again. Your heart started to race. No one ever called you during school unless it was important. You hesitated, then quickly glanced at the screen under your desk: Daycare. Your stomach flipped. Something had happened.

You raised your hand. “Miss Parker, may I be excused?” Miss Parker stopped mid-sentence, frowning. “Is it urgent, Lilly? We’re in the middle of a critical discussion.” “I… I just really need to step out,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Unless you can give me a reason, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until the break,” she said, her tone stern.

You glanced around the room. Everyone’s eyes were on you now, including Spencer’s. He looked tense, his hands clenched on his desk. You didn’t want to say it, but Koda’s face flashed in your mind, and the daycare’s number on your screen felt like it was burning a hole in your pocket.