Rain tapped against the windows of William’s apartment like echoes of the past refusing to fade. The living room light glowed dimly as William sat on the sofa, his face tense. In his hand, the crumpled pregnancy report from Clarissa looked worn—creased from being held too long.

He shook his head slowly, as if trying to reject the suffocating reality.

“This can’t be left hanging,” he muttered, then picked up his phone and dialed Clarissa.

The call connected after two rings.

> “William?” Clarissa’s voice sounded calm—too calm.

“We’re doing a DNA test. Immediately.”

Silence.

> “Why? You already know the answer, don’t you?”

“Exactly because I don’t. And I...