The silence that followed Zoe’s question was so dense it seemed to fill every corner of the room. Her voice—steady and trembling all at once—still echoed in the air:

“When were you going to tell me… that you’re going to be a father?”

Arthur froze on the spot, car keys hanging loosely between his fingers, as if time itself had stopped.

“W–what do you mean… a father?” he asked, brows furrowing, trying to understand whether this was some kind of prank.

Zoe kept staring at him, her eyes glistening.

“Arthur, I don’t think you understood me.”

She repeated it slowly, with more weight.

“When were you going to tell me you got Sabrina pregnant?”

Her name dropped into the room like a bomb. Arthur went pale—drained of every trace of color.

“Zoe, what are you talking about? Is this some kind of joke? Are you pregnant? Is that it? Is this some kind of prank?” he stammered, forcing a nervous smile.

“No.”

She took a step toward him.

“Let me rephrase it, since you want to play stupid.”

Her voice sharp