A Call From His Future Baby

On the first Saturday of June, during the annual childrens festival in town, I received a phone call from my future daughter.

I smiled into the receiver and asked her, Sweetheart, are Mommy and Daddy still happy together?

Of course! the little voice chirped proudly. Daddy and Mommy have the best relationship. They never, ever fight. Daddy says Mommy is the absolute love of his life!

I felt a warm blush creep up my neck. I couldn't believe Toby had said those things in front of a child.

Basking in the warmth of her words, I pressed on. "And do you have Mommy's last name, Winslow, or Daddy's last name, Garrison?"

The girl fell silent for a beat, sounding genuinely confused. "I have Daddys last name, Garrison. But my mommy's last name is Hastings. Her name is Summer Hastings."

I froze.

Summer Hastings. My best friend of fifteen years.

The very same Summer who, just yesterday, had gotten into a screaming match with Toby over how he treated mea fight so explosive they had physically locked horns and ended up in the emergency room.

My throat tightened, and my hand began to tremble so violently I could barely hold the phone.

How was this possible?

Summer and I had been inseparable since we were childhood neighbors. She was loud, fiercely protective, and entirely transparent. If there was one thing she couldnt stand, it was Toby. She called him a pretentious snob who took my devotion for granted. Every time they were in the same room, sparks flew. They clashed so bitterly that Toby and I had nearly broken up multiple times over his relentless complaints about her.

The sweet little voice on the line pulled me back from the ledge. "Ma'am? You still haven't told me when Daddy is coming home to take me to the carnival."

I swallowed the sharp ache in my throat, forcing my voice to remain gentle. "Sweetheart, how old are you?"

"I'm six!"

Six...

If this phone call was real, and the timeline lined up, then right now, Summer was already carrying her.

"Clatter."

The phone slipped from my numb fingers, clattering onto the hardwood floor. A cold shiver rippled across my skin.

Yesterday, when we went shopping, I noticed Summers dress size had jumped from a medium to a large. I had playfully teased her about gaining weight, completely missing the sudden, panicked flash in her eyes.

No. It couldn't be.

"Sweetheart" I scrambled to pick up the phone, desperate to ask more, when a mans voice drifted through the receiver in the background.

"Joy, who are you talking to?"

It was a voice I knew intimately. The voice of the man who had slept beside me for the last four years.

"Joy."

It was the name I had chosen only two days ago.

That night, I had caught Toby flipping through a baby name book. I had teased him, asking why he was looking at names when we weren't even married yet. He had only looked down, smiled quietly, and said there was no rush.

No rush.

Because the baby was never meant to be mine.

"Ma'am, I sent you a friend request on social media. Let's talk more later!" the little girl said. "I have to go to the festival now!"

The line went dead. I immediately hailed a cab and rode to the hospital in a daze.

Passing the nurses station, I spotted Toby's assistant, who had told me Toby had flown to Seattle the night before on urgent business. Yet, there Toby was, standing outside a private room in the maternity ward.

I crept quietly down the hall, stopping just outside the cracked door.

Inside, Toby was gently pulling Summer into his arms, his face etched with tenderness. "Im so sorry you have to go through this, Summer. Having to fake these fights just to protect your pregnancy and keep Serena off our scent."

"Once I secure the new contract from Winslow Enterprises, I'll finally break things off with her," Toby murmured, kissing her forehead. "I will cherish you and our baby for the rest of my life."

My fingernails dug into my palms, drawing blood as I fought back the tears threatening to spill over.

Summer sighed, leaning into his chest. "I hate doing this to her. Serena is my best friend, and the last thing I want is to break her heart. But we have to think about our future. Once you get on track with those new investors you met, introduce a few of them to Serena. Itll be our way of making it up to her."

My throat felt like it was coated in crushed glass. I couldn't even manage a sob.

The investors Toby had been socializing with lately were all wealthy, cynical men in their late fifties, several of them multiple divorcees. They wanted to set me up with them as "compensation."

I walked slowly into the stairwell, wiped the tears from my face, and dialed my father.

"Dad," I said, my voice tight. "The contracts Winslow Enterprises was planning to hand over to Garrison Holdingscancel them. All of them."

"And about the overseas branch in Los Angeles? I've changed my mind. I'll take the position. I want to leave next week."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line.

Then, my father sighed heavily. "Serena, did you and Toby have another fight?"

"I never wanted to give him those projects in the first place. You knelt outside my study for three days and nights, begging me to help his company. Serena, you can't keep throwing tantrums and using our family business as a bargaining chip in your relationship."

I sat down on the cold concrete step, my fingers brushing against the faint, faded bruises on my knees from that three-day vigil. When I pressed down, it still throbbed with a dull, aching pain.

"Dad, I'm serious this time," I whispered. "I'm boarding the flight next week. I'm done being foolish."

Even my father knew how much I treasured Toby.

How could Summer, who had stood by me through everything, not know?

That evening, shortly after I returned to the apartment, my phone buzzed.

It was the same number. A text notification popped up, displaying a friend request from an account with a bright, bubbly profile picture.

An ugly mix of resentment and curiosity coiled in my chest. I wanted to know where it had all gone wrong.

I accepted the request. The little girl, Joy, was incredibly talkative, immediately sending a barrage of cute emojis.

I stared at the screen, my heart pounding as I typed out a message.

"Joy, do you know how your mommy and daddy fell in love?"

A long voice note arrived almost instantly, her voice dripping with pride.

"Of course! I know their whole love story. Daddy tells me how they fell in love every single night when he tucks me in."

I looked up blankly at the framed photo sitting on the coffee table. It was the very first photo Toby and I had ever taken together.

I had chased Toby for three years, from high school through college. At our high school graduation, Summer had playfully shoved me next to him, winking as she urged me to get close for a photo. Toby had initially recoiled, quietly brushing off his sleeve where my shoulder had brushed his.

Summer, annoyed by his attitude, had dragged him back and insisted we take a photo together. When she sent me the final image, she had cropped herself out. I was so ecstatic that I stayed awake all night, setting it as my wallpapera wallpaper I hadn't changed in four years.

"Joy, I'd love to hear the story. Will you tell me?"

"Okay!" came the cheerful reply.

"Daddy says he fell in love with Mommy the very moment he saw her at their high school graduation. He says it was love at first sight. They still have their graduation picture framed right next to their bed!"

A second later, a photo message popped up.

I tapped to expand the image. It was our graduation photo. But the girl standing in the middlemehad been completely photoshopped out.

Beside that frame sat their wedding portrait. It was a moody, gothic-inspired theme.

Just two days ago, I had shown Toby a similar concept, telling him how much I loved the dramatic, classic look. He hadn't even looked up from his tablet, merely shaking his head.

"Too dark," he had said dismissively. "It looks like a funeral. Pick something else."

Over the past year, I had proposed over a hundred wedding concepts. Every single one had been shot down.

It turned out the style was never the issue. The person was.

Joy continued to babble happily, describing how hard Toby had pursued Summer from graduation through college. In her telling, it was a flawless, fairy-tale romance.

And I, the woman who had spent seven years of her life loving him, was nothing more than an invisible intruder.

A wave of nausea hit me, so violent that I dropped the phone onto the carpet. As I scrambled to pick it up, my finger accidentally brushed the screen, answering an incoming video call from her.

Joy froze when my face appeared on her screen. She looked startled, shrinking back slightly.

I held the phone up, keeping my voice as gentle as possible. "Joy? What's wrong, sweetie?"

She let out a small breath, her shoulders relaxing. "Oh, it's you, Ma'am."

She paused, then added innocently, "You're actually so pretty when you aren't being crazy."

A wire snapped in my brain. "What did you say?"

Joy scratched her head, looking genuinely puzzled. "Every time I saw you before, you were always screaming and crying. It was really scary. You used to grab Daddy and tell him you were going to kill him to make him pay for your father's life."

"Mommy told me to stay far away from you because you were dangerous."

A bone-chilling cold swept through me. I bit my lower lip so hard I tasted copper.

What did Toby do to my father in that future?

Suppressing the tremor in my voice, I forced a smile. "Oh, sweetheart, that was just a game Daddy and I were playing."

I was desperate to ask more, to unravel the horror of what lay ahead, when Tobys voice suddenly echoed from the hallway.

"Serena? Who are you talking to?"

Panicked, I immediately disconnected the call.

I didn't answer him. Toby, assuming I was still giving him the silent treatment over our fight from the day before, walked into the living room and set a small jar of organic lavender honey on the table beside me.

"I drove all the way to that specialty market in Seattle to get this for you. Stop being mad," he said, shedding his jacket. "I heard it's great for your skin."

I stared at the jar, a bitter taste rising in my mouth.

Earlier at the hospital, I had seen Summer holding ten jars of the exact same honey, her face glowing with delight. "Oh, Toby, I only mentioned it once. I cant believe you actually flew to Seattle just to get these for me!"

The jar he brought me was a tiny, pathetic sample size.

We had been together for four years. He remembered a passing whim of Summers, but he couldn't remember that I had a severe honey allergy.

My eyes burned. I picked up the jar and tossed it directly into the trash can.

"Toby, let's break up."

Tobys hands froze on his jacket zipper. A familiar look of irritation clouded his face.

"Serena, can you please stop making a scene over nothing?" he snapped. "I have enough stress at the office. I don't have the time or energy to play mind games and guess why you're throwing a tantrum every single day."

"Why can't you be more like Summer? She's mature, easygoing, and reasonable."

When people are frustrated, the truth slips out.

He caught himself, momentarily startled by his own words, before letting out a sharp sigh. It was the first time he had ever praised Summer to my face. For years, they had supposedly despised each other, which was precisely why I had never questioned the tiny, nagging discrepancies in his behavior.

Regaining his composure, Toby knelt in front of me, reaching out to pat my head in that familiar, patronizing way.

"Alright, Serena. I'm sorry. I apologize, okay?" he coaxed. "Just hang in there. Once we secure the Winslow contract next week, I'll take you on a nice, long vacation to clear your head."

He wasn't sorry. He was just terrified of losing the contract.

I didn't argue. That night, I quietly moved my things into the guest room and packed my suitcases, preparing for my departure the following week.

In the middle of the night, a sharp, familiar pain flared in my stomach.

I groaned, holding my abdomen as I stumbled out to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and my prescription pain relievers.

The stomach ulcers were an old souvenir from Tobys early startup days. Back then, he had to drink heavily to secure clients. I had accompanied him to every dinner, drinking in his place to protect his health. Over time, my own stomach paid the price.

I remembered one night, a year ago, when the pain was so excruciating I couldn't even stand up to reach the nightstand. I had begged Toby to get my medication. He hadn't even opened his eyes.

"Just bear with it," he had mumbled into his pillow. "I have a pitch presentation tomorrow. I need my sleep."

I had curled into a ball, sweating and shaking, enduring the agonizing pain alone until morning. By the time I was rushed to the ER the next day, I was semi-conscious.

The apartment was dark, save for the faint glow of the streetlights outside. Near the entryway, Toby's shoes were kicked aside haphazardly, as if he had left in a rush.

With sleep out of reach, I brought up my phone and opened social media. There, at the top of my feed, was a post from Summer.

"Craving midnight snacks, and a sweet soul delivered. Lucky me~"

The attached photo showed a lavish spread of food from various diners across the citysome from the far north, others from the south.

I buried my face in my knees, letting out a hollow laugh.

If a man cares, he doesn't need to be taught. If he doesn't, no amount of teaching will ever be enough.

By Tuesday afternoon, all my luggage had been shipped out. I sat on the empty sofa, staring at the bare walls, feeling completely drained.

I had sent several messages to Joy, but none of them went through.

Finally, around three in the afternoon, a video call request flashed on my screen. I answered immediately.

But as the camera connected, the background behind her made my breath catch.

It was a spacious, high-ceilinged office decorated with mahogany and leather. It was my father's office.

My mother had passed away when I was very young, and my father had raised me alone. Fearing I would be lonely at home, he had spent my childhood keeping me by his side in this very room.

"Joy, why are you at Winslow Enterprises?"

Joy tilted the camera, panning around the room. "What do you mean, Ma'am? This is my daddys office."

"And the company isn't called Winslow anymore. Winslow Enterprises went under a long time ago."

My chest tightened, a cold dread seizing my heart. "Joy... you're a smart girl. Can you tell me what happened to the old owner? The man who used to sit in that chair?"

Eager to show off, she leaned close to the screen. "Oh, Daddy told me about him! The grandpa who owned the company gave all his projects to Daddy."

"But then the grandpa made a big mistake and broke the law. The police locked him up, and he died in prison shortly after."

My blood ran cold.

My father was a man of absolute integrity. He would never bend his moral compass for profit, let alone commit a crime.

"And then?" My voice was barely a whisper.

"Then the company became Daddy's!" Joy smiled. "Don't you remember, Ma'am? You used to come down to the lobby all the time, screaming at Daddy to give your father's life back."

A hot tear slipped down my cheek, splashing onto the glass screen.

My father had never liked Toby. He had warned me repeatedly that Toby was too calculating, too ambitious. He had even resorted to locking me in my room to keep us apart. But in my blind devotion, I had climbed out of a third-story window, shattering my leg in the fall. Seeing my broken body, my father had finally yielded, heartbroken.

I had never imagined that my foolish love would eventually cost my father his life.

I took a cab straight to my fathers house.

When I walked into the dining room, he was sitting alone at the long table, a few quiet dishes laid out before him. The sight of his solitary figure made my throat ache.

I walked closer and realized every single dish on the table was one of my favoritesall of them sweet, rich comfort foods.

My father looked up, his face instantly lighting up with warmth when he saw me. "Serena! You're home!"

"Sarah," he called out to the housekeeper, his voice brimming with excitement, "make a few more of the dishes Serena likes!"

I sat down, a profound sense of guilt washing over me. "Dad, why didn't you have them make something you like? You hate sweet food."

My father rubbed his hands together, offering a gentle, almost apologetic smile. "Well, I always hope youll walk through the door, but I never know when you'll have time for your old dad. So, I have them prepare your favorites every day. That way, no matter what day you decide to visit, your favorite meal is waiting for you."

I buried my face in my bowl, tears streaming into my food, salty and bitter.

He had waited like this. Day after day, week after week.

"Dad," I choked out, "from now on, I'm going to listen to you. I won't be foolish anymore."

My father looked at me softly, piling food onto my plate until it was overflowing.

Before I left, I warned him repeatedly to be extremely cautious around Toby and to keep a close eye on the company's internal audits.

I returned to the apartment one last time to retrieve my passport and travel documents. As I reached the front door, I found a moving truck parked outside, and workers were hauling boxes inside.

The moment Summer saw me, she rushed forward, wrapping her arms around me. "Serena! Oh my god, Ive missed you so much!"

Behind her, Toby kept a protective hand hovering near her waist, his eyes wide with anxiety. Meeting my gaze, he quickly drew his hand back, clearing his throat.

"I was just... making sure she didn't knock you over. You know how clumsy she is."

Summer laughed, punching his shoulder playfully. Then she turned to me, hooking her arm through mine. "Great news, Serena! I'm moving in with you guys! That way, if Toby ever tries to treat you badly, I'll be right here to kick his butt!"

Toby rolled his eyes with fond amusement. "We'll see who kicks whose butt. Someone's going to end up back in the hospital if they aren't careful."

They began their usual banter. But this time, I didn't step in to play peacemaker.

Watching them laugh together, the last remaining embers of my affection for them died out.

I gently slipped my arm out of Summer's grasp, walked past them to collect my documents from the desk, and returned to the doorway.

My voice was flat, devoid of any emotion. "No need. You two can have the apartment."

I turned to leave.

Summer grabbed my sleeve, her face falling. "No, Serena, wait! Don't be mad. If you don't want me here, I won't move in. Please don't be like this."

As I pulled away, Toby stepped forward and abruptly shoved me back. He pulled Summer behind him, glaring at me with utter annoyance.

"Let her go, Summer. Shes a grown woman and she's still throwing these pathetic tantrums. If you want to leave so badly, Serena, then don't bother coming back."

With that, he slammed the door in my face.

I stared at the heavy wood door, the last trace of warmth in my chest evaporating into the cool hallway air.

I certainly wouldn't be back.

Tomorrow, I would be on a flight to Los Angeles.

It was only a pity that I wouldn't be in the room to witness his face when the bidding fell through.