Williams' POV.
Allison’s words replayed in my mind, each one a blow to my face. "I was pregnant, Williams. Three months gone. Wanted to announce it on our third anniversary." I had lost not just my wife, but also a child I never knew about. The sheer weight of it all was suffocating.
I found myself at the bar, nursing my fourth—or was it fifth?—scotch of the night. The amber liquid burned my throat, but it was a welcome distraction from the torrent of guilt and self-loathing swirling within me.
I looked into the glass, seeing my reflection distorted by the alcohol. “You bastard,” I muttered to myself, my voice slurring slightly. “You selfish, insensitive bastard.”
I couldn't shake the image of Allison's face as she spoke, the cold, emotionless exterior barely concealing the pain and hurt. The fact that she had carried my child, our child, and lost it because of my actions was a dagger to my heart.
“I could’ve been a father,” I said, louder this time, catching the attention of the bartender who glanced at me with sympathy and concern. “A father, and I didn’t even know it.”
I took another long sip, the alcohol failing to dull the sharp edges of my regret. Allison had wanted to surprise me on our anniversary, a day that was supposed to be filled with joy and celebration. Instead, I had shattered her world with my lies and betrayal.
“Wanted to announce it,” I repeated, shaking my head. “And what did I do? I was off with Jessica, lying about a business meeting.”