anthony confess infornt of amber
Amber never liked Sunday mornings.
They always made her feel too still, too exposed. A reminder that the noise of the week had faded and only truth could echo in the quiet. That particular Sunday was no different—except for the knot in her stomach she couldn’t explain.
She was folding laundry in her apartment when Anthony called.
She hadn’t heard from him in weeks. Not since that night—when he showed up, confessed he’d used her, and left like a ghost retreating into the past.
Her phone vibrated against the counter.
Anthony.
She stared at the screen, thumb hovering, pulse climbing. She should’ve let it go to voicemail. But something in her chest whispered, Answer it.
She did.
“Amber.”
“Anthony,” she said, cool and careful. “Didn’t think I’d hear from you again.”
“I know. I just… I need to talk to you. In person.”
Her silence was answer enough.
“It’s not about us. It’s about something I should’ve told you a long time ago. Something important.”
Another beat of silence.
“Alright,” she said finally. “Come by.”
He arrived an hour later, looking older, more tired. He wasn’t wearing cologne. His hair was messy. There was no charm in his eyes. Just heaviness.
Amber motioned him in, arms crossed. “What is it now? Another confession? Or are we back to justifying why you broke two hearts?”
“No,” Anthony said. “This isn’t about that. This is about… my son.”
Amber blinked. “Your what?”
He took a breath that seemed to tear its way out of his ribs.
“I have a son. With Shayla.”
Amber’s mouth dropped open.
“You what?”
“It was before you and I… before everything fell apart. We weren’t good, Shayla and me. But we weren’t done, either. We had a moment—one of the few where we actually tried. And she got pregnant.”
Amber backed up a step. “And you didn’t tell me? Not once?”
“I didn’t tell anyone,” Anthony admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Shayla wanted to keep it quiet. Said she didn’t know what kind of father I’d be. Said she didn’t trust that I wouldn’t bail. And to be honest… I didn’t trust myself either.”
Amber’s heart was thudding now. “So you just let her go through it alone?”
“I sent money. I checked in. I kept my distance. I told myself it was for the best. That maybe I wasn’t built for fatherhood. That I’d just mess him up like my dad messed me up.”
“And you thought that was enough?” Her voice broke through the rising storm in the room.
“I was scared, Amber,” Anthony said, his voice low and honest. “I failed Shayla. I failed him. And I failed you by dragging you into a version of me that was half-hiding, half-running.”
Amber turned away, staring hard at the window. She couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t process what this meant. “How old is he?”
“Six months.”
“Six months…” she repeated, like trying the words out would make them make sense. “You were with me, you were lying to Shayla, and you had a child on the way.”
“Yes.”
Amber finally turned around, anger flooding to the surface. “Do you even hear yourself? You left both of us in the dark, while Shayla raised a child alone and I played side character to a story I never asked to be in.”
“I’m not asking for forgiveness,” Anthony said. “I came here because… I’m trying to be better. I’m in his life now. I see him. I hold him. He looks at me like I’m the only thing that matters. And for the first time, I get it. I get what I’ve done, who I’ve hurt, and what I almost lost.”
Amber’s voice softened slightly. “Why tell me now?”
He looked at her, eyes full of something real—grief, maybe. Or finally, clarity.
“Because I owed you the truth. And because… if I didn’t say it, I’d keep carrying the lie like it didn’t weigh anything. And it does. It weighs everything.”
Amber sank into a chair. Her mind was reeling. A child. A secret. A past even messier than she imagined.
And yet… this was the first time Anthony looked like he wasn’t hiding anymore.
“You’re a mess,” she said finally.
He gave a faint smile. “Yeah. I know.”
She didn’t forgive him. Not in that moment. Maybe not ever.
But she appreciated the truth, brutal as it was.
“You need to do right by that boy,” she said. “And by Shayla. No more half-truths. No more excuses.”
“I will,” Anthony promised.
Then he turned toward the door.
“Goodbye, Amber.”
This time, when he left, it didn’t feel like escape.
It felt like a beginning—just not theirs.
Amber sat alone again, but something in her heart felt lighter.
The truth, no matter how devastating, had a strange power. It could break. It could heal. It could clear the fog enough to finally see the road forward.
Anthony had a son.
And now, for the first time, he had to become the man he’d always pretended to be
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