Chapter 2: The Name On The Paper
I stared at the name until the letters stopped looking real.
Alyssa Carter.
The name sat there in black ink, printed neatly beneath Jordan’s address history.
A name I knew.
A name I had heard him mention only once.
And a name he had described as a mistake.
“She’s nobody,” Jordan had told me six months earlier when I asked about the woman who kept calling him during dinner.
He had smiled.
Not nervously.
Not defensively.
Confidently.
“She’s someone from my past, Nia. That’s all.””
I believed him.
Because why wouldn’t I?
I had built an entire future around believing him.
My fingers tightened around the paper.
“Where did you get this?””
My father didn’t answer immediately.
That worried me more than if he had.
“Dad.””
“I found it in the mail.””
“That doesn’t make sense.””
“I know.””
“No, I mean it literally doesn’t make sense.”” I shook my head.
“Jordan’s mail comes here because he stays here sometimes.””
Marcus looked at me.
Sometimes.
I heard the word after I said it.
And suddenly, it sounded ridiculous.
Jordan had a drawer in my bedroom.
A toothbrush beside my sink.
Three pairs of shoes near my front door.
His favorite coffee mug sat in my kitchen cabinet.
His jacket was hanging on the back of my chair.
But somehow, he was only here sometimes.
My father noticed the realization cross my face.
“You see it now.””
I hated that he said it gently.
If he had sounded smug, I could have been angry.
If he had sounded like he was waiting to prove himself right, I could have fought back.
But he just looked sad.
And that hurt worse.
“I need to talk to him.””
Marcus nodded.
“Yes.””
“I need to hear it from him.””
“You do.””
I grabbed my phone.
My hands were shaking as I opened Jordan’s messages.
There were hundreds.
Good morning texts.
Pictures of food.
Inside jokes.
Promises.
I scrolled until I found his name.
My thumb hovered over the call button.
Then stopped.
Because a horrible thought entered my mind.
What if he answered?
What if I asked him?
What if he lied?
A lie I could prove was worse than a lie I could still hope wasn’t true.
My father grabbed his jacket.
“I’m going to leave.””
“Dad—”
“I know you’re angry.””
“I’m not angry at you.””
He looked surprised.
“Really?””
I looked down at the paper.
“I’m angry that you found something I should have known.””
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he walked to the door.
“Nia.””
I looked up.
“Don’t let love make you negotiate with facts.””
The door closed behind him.
And for the first time in two years, my apartment felt completely unfamiliar.
The quiet was unbearable.
I walked into the kitchen and placed the paper on the counter.
Then I picked up my phone again.
This time, I called.
One ring.
Two.
Three.
Jordan answered.
“Hey, baby.””
His voice was warm.
Normal.
That almost broke me.
“Where are you?””
A pause.
Small.
But I heard it.
“I’m driving home.””
“From where?””
Another pause.
“Nia?””
I closed my eyes.
“Where are you coming home from, Jordan?””
He laughed softly.
“What’s going on?””
I hated that he did that.
Turned my question into a problem with my attitude.
“I asked you a question.””
“Work.””
“Really?””
“Yes.””
“Because I thought you weren’t working tonight.””
Silence.
A longer one.
My stomach twisted.
“I switched shifts.””
“You didn’t tell me.””
“Because it wasn’t a big deal.””
I looked at the paper.
Alyssa Carter.
Previous household member.
“Jordan.””
“Yeah?””
“Who is Alyssa Carter?””
The silence that followed was so complete I could hear the refrigerator humming.
Then his voice changed.
Not much.
But enough.
“Why are you asking me that?””
I laughed quietly.
It wasn’t because anything was funny.
It was because suddenly, everything felt obvious.
“You didn’t answer.””
“Nia.””
“Who is she?””
“Where did you hear that name?””
I gripped the phone.
“That’s not the question.””
“Who showed you something?””
My heart sank.
Because he wasn’t confused.
He wasn’t saying, “Who is Alyssa?””
He knew exactly who she was.
“Why does it matter who showed me?””
“Because your father doesn’t like me.””
“That’s what you’re worried about?””
“No, I’m worried that he’s putting things in your head.””
My chest tightened.
“Is he?””
“Is he what?””
“Putting things in my head?””
Jordan exhaled.
“Nia, you’re making this bigger than it is.””
I stared at the paper.
The sentence felt like a slap.
“You haven’t even explained anything.””
“Because there’s nothing to explain.””
“Then explain.””
He didn’t answer.
I waited.
Five seconds.
Ten.
Fifteen.
“Jordan.””
“I’m going to come over.””
“No.””
The word came out before I could stop it.
Silence.
“What?””
“Don’t come over.””
“Nia—”
“I need you to answer me first.””
“I don’t like where this conversation is going.””
“Neither do I.””
Another pause.
Then he sighed.
“Alyssa was my ex.””
“I know.””
“She’s the mother of my daughter.””
Everything inside me stopped.
His daughter.
The words were simple.
But they shattered something.
“You have a daughter?””
“Nia—”
“You have a daughter?””
“I was going to tell you.””
“When?””
“I don’t know.””
A bitter laugh escaped me.
“You don’t know?””
“I was waiting for the right time.””
“The right time was two years?””
“It’s complicated.””
“No.””
My voice became quieter.
“It’s not complicated.””
I walked toward the window.
Outside, cars moved through the street below, people going home, living normal lives.
My life had just changed in the space of one phone call.
“You told me Alyssa was someone from your past.””
“She is.””
“She’s the mother of your child.””
“Yes.””
“And you live with her?””
“No.””
I looked at the address form.
“Jordan.””
“I don’t live with her.””
“Then why is your address connected to hers?””
He didn’t answer.
That was the answer.
My eyes burned.
“You sent me three thousand two hundred dollars worth of problems.””
“What does that mean?””
“It means you asked me for money without telling me the truth.””
“I needed help.””
“For what?””
“My daughter.””
The anger in my chest shifted.
Because that was the one thing I couldn’t attack.
A child.
An innocent child.
But that didn’t erase everything else.
“You should have told me.””
“I was afraid.””
“Of what?””
“That you’d leave.””
The honesty in his voice almost worked.
Almost.
Because I loved Jordan.
That was the hardest part.
If I hated him, this would have been easy.
But love made every betrayal feel like a wound you kept touching to make sure it was real.
“You let me believe you were someone else.””
“I’m still me.””
“No.””
I looked at the paper again.
“You’re the person I know and the person I don’t know at the same time.””
“Nia—”
“I need space.””
“Don’t do this.””
“Do what?””
“Walk away because my life isn’t perfect.””
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
The shift.
The way he changed the conversation.
From what he hid.
To how I reacted.
“You think this is about your life being imperfect?””
“What else is it?””
“It’s about you deciding I didn’t deserve the truth.””
Silence.
Then:
“I love you.””
The words landed softly.
Too softly.
Because they were words I had wanted to hear a thousand times.
But tonight, they felt different.
“I love you too,” I whispered.
His breathing changed.
Like he thought that meant everything was okay.
Then I finished.
“But I don’t know if I trust you.””
Neither of us spoke.
Finally, he said, “I’ll come over tomorrow. We’ll talk.””
I wanted to say no.
I wanted to tell him not to come.
But I couldn’t.
Because part of me still wanted the explanation.
The part of me that loved him was still searching for a reason this could all make sense.
“Fine.””
“I’ll see you tomorrow.””
The call ended.
I stood there holding my phone.
Then I noticed something.
A notification appeared at the top of my screen.
A message.
Not from Jordan.
From an unknown number.
My heart started beating faster.
I opened it.
There was no greeting.
No explanation.
Just a photo.
A photo of Jordan.
Standing in a kitchen.
Holding a little girl.
And behind him was a woman smiling at the camera.
Alyssa.
May you like
Under the photo was one sentence.
*You deserve to know why he never told you about the second child.*