Marcus announced, calmly and without hesitation, that she was part of his life now and that they were expecting a child. The room went silent in the way it does when everyone’s heart tries to catch up with their ears.

My mother gasped, Emma’s fingers tightened around my hand, and Jacob’s fork clinked loudly against his plate. Marcus looked almost pleased, as if honesty—delivered like a public performance—made him brave.

But the response he expected never arrived. His father stood, glass in hand, and spoke with a steadiness that cut through the shock: this wasn’t strength, it was cruelty, and it would not be celebrated. His mother followed, her voice controlled but trembling with disappointment, asking how he could bring pain into a home where his children were seated.