Hands gripped her arm. Elias's fingers dug in, not bruising, but demanding attention. His eyes, usually a calm, deep ocean, now churned with a storm. He pulled her further into the empty hallway, away from the chatter of the party, away from Lily.
"Who is he?" Elias's voice was low, strained. A predator's growl. "Lily's father. Tell me. Now."
Anya's breath hitched. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. The air felt thin, suffocating.
She looked away, anywhere but his face. The pristine white walls blurred. Her mind screamed for an escape, for a lie, for anything to shield her from this moment.
But there was no escape. Not anymore.
Elias tightened his grip. "Anya. Don't make me ask again. I saw the drawing. I know her age. Six years, Anya. Just like it's been since—"
He cut himself off, the unspoken words hanging heavy between them. *Since I left. Since you disappeared.*
Her knees threatened to buckle. A cold sweat slicked her palms. This was it. The moment she had dreaded for six years.
Swallowing hard, Anya forced herself to meet his gaze. His eyes held a terrifying mixture of accusation and a dawning, terrifying comprehension.
"Elias..." Her voice was a whisper, a mere thread of sound. It trembled, fragile as glass.
He shook his head, a single, sharp movement. "No. Tell me his name. Give me a name, Anya. Or I swear to God..."
He didn't finish the threat. He didn't need to. The raw intensity in his expression was enough.
Tears welled, blurring her vision. They spilled over, hot tracks down her cold cheeks. She couldn't hold them back. Not now.
"There is no 'he,'" she choked out, the words catching in her throat. Each syllable was a painful admission. "There was never anyone else."
Elias stared, his face a mask of disbelief. A flicker of something unreadable crossed his features, then his jaw tightened. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Anya squeezed her eyes shut, letting the tears flow freely. The confession tore through her, raw and agonizing. "Lily is... Lily is our daughter, Elias."
The silence that followed was deafening. It stretched, thick and oppressive, filling the space between them. The sounds of the party, once distant, now seemed to cease entirely.
His grip on her arm loosened, then fell away completely. Elias took a step back, as if struck. His eyes, wide and horrified, searched her face, searching for a lie, for a jest, for anything but the truth.
His lips parted, but no sound came out. He looked like a man who had been dealt a fatal blow, reeling, unable to comprehend.
"It was after... after that night," Anya whispered, desperate to fill the void, to explain, to make him understand. "The night you left. I found out a few weeks later."
She tried to reach for him, a plea in her outstretched hand. He flinched, pulling away as if her touch would burn him.
"Why?" His voice was a guttural rasp. "Why didn't you tell me? Why did you hide her?"
"You ghosted me, Elias!" The words burst out, fueled by six years of suppressed pain and resentment. "You disappeared! No calls, no texts, no goodbye. Nothing! I thought you wanted nothing to do with me, with us!"
He shook his head slowly, a muscle twitching in his jaw. "That's not an excuse, Anya. That's not an excuse to keep my child from me."
"I was scared!" Her voice cracked. "I was alone. A student, barely making ends meet. And you... you were gone. How was I supposed to reach you? To tell you?"
"You could have tried harder!" His voice rose, a raw, furious edge to it. "You could have found me! You could have sent a letter, an email, anything!"
She recoiled from his anger. His face was contorted, a mask of pure, unadulterated rage. The gentle, understanding Elias she remembered was gone, replaced by a stranger consumed by fury.
"I thought... I thought you didn't want a future with me," Anya stammered, her voice thin. "I was a foolish girl. I thought I was protecting her. Protecting myself."
Protecting Lily from a father who walked away. Protecting herself from the pain of rejection all over again.
He let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh, devoid of humor. It was a sound of pure anguish and betrayal. "Protecting her? From her own father?"
His hands balled into fists at his sides. His chest heaved with suppressed emotion. The vein in his temple throbbed, a furious pulse against his skin.
"You kept my child from me for six years. You will pay for this."