I knew somethin’ was wrong the second she looked at me. Not scared. Not angry. Just… quiet.

Too quiet. The kind where you can feel the earth shift under your boots, but the quake ain’t hit you yet.

We’d just buried Otis. Carl was still healin’. The whole damn camp was holdin’ its breath. And in the middle of it, she asks to talk. “Just us.”

God. I should’ve seen it comin’.

She tells me, and the words just… hang there. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just soft, almost apologetic. “I’m pregnant.” Then the real punch— “It might be Shane’s.”

Everything stops.

The woods fall silent. Even the birds stop singin’. It’s like the whole world’s watchin’ me crumble from the inside.

I don’t speak. Can’t. Feels like all the air’s been knocked outta me.

My jaw clenches. Hands ball up before I even realize it. Not from anger—not at her. Not yet. But from the weight of it. The knowing.

Of course it’s Shane’s. He thought I was dead. She thought I was dead. Hell, I was damn near.

And while I was layin’ in that hospital with tubes in me, walls fallin’ down all around, they found each other.

I get it. I get it.

But knowing and feeling—those are two different things.

I look at her, and all I can think is: That should’ve been mine. Our second chance. Our fresh start. Instead, it’s another reminder that the world moved on without me.

She’s cryin’. She says she’s sorry. That she didn’t know what else to do.

And I still love her. God help me, I still love her.

But love ain’t simple anymore. Not in this world. Now it’s twisted up with survival, trust, betrayal… forgiveness that don’t come easy.

I want to hold her. I want to walk away.

I want to scream. I want to say, “We’ll figure this out.”

Instead, I just stand there. Silent. Bleedin’ on the inside.

’Cause this ain’t just about a baby. It’s about him. Shane.

And somethin’ deep inside me knows: This ain’t over. Not by a long shot.