My Girlfriend Was Pregnant, But When I Asked If the Baby Was Mine, She Said, “I Don’t Know”

By the time I reached home, Andre was standing in the kitchen with a manila envelope in his hand.

My mother sat at the table, pale and motionless. An open drawer beside her held old tax documents, birthday cards, and a stack of papers my father had left behind when he moved out years ago.

I stopped in the doorway.

"What happened?""

Mom looked at me.

"Your brother found something.""

Andre placed the envelope on the table.

"I didn't find it," he said.

"Ma did.""

I looked at her.

She nodded slowly.

"I was looking for the insurance paperwork for the car. This envelope was underneath the old mortgage documents.""

I approached the table.

On the front, in my father's handwriting, were two words.

*For My Sons.*

I hadn't seen his handwriting in years.

The sight of it stirred something painful in my chest. My father had been gone from our daily lives for so long that I'd stopped expecting anything from him. He called on birthdays when he remembered, sent occasional money, and made promises about visiting that rarely survived contact with his schedule.

But seeing his handwriting brought back the memory of sitting beside him at the kitchen table when I was little, watching him write my name on school forms.

I reached for the envelope.

Andre put his hand over it.

"Before you open it, I need to tell you something.""

I looked at his hand.

"Move it.""

"Nico—"

"Move your hand.""

He slowly withdrew it.

I opened the envelope.

Inside were several documents, a folded letter, and a photocopy of a bank transfer. I pulled out the letter first.

It was addressed to my mother.

The date at the top was nearly a year old.

I read the first few lines.

Denise, I know we agreed that the boys should not be dragged into our financial problems. But Andre has contacted me again, and I am concerned about the amount of money he says he needs.

I stopped.

Then I continued.

He says he is trying to settle a debt before it becomes a legal problem. He has asked me not to tell Nico because he doesn't want his younger brother involved.

I looked up.

"What debt?""

Andre stood rigidly beside the refrigerator.

Mom's hands trembled on the table.

"Let me finish reading," I said.

The next paragraph was worse.

I told him I would not send him any more money until he provided documentation. If the situation is as serious as he says, he needs to speak honestly with his family. I will not allow him to use Nico's savings or anyone else's money to cover it.

I read the sentence twice.

Then I looked at Andre.

"What money?""

He stared at the floor.

My mother whispered, "Andre.""

He closed his eyes.

I felt my pulse pounding in my ears.

"What money did you take?""

Andre shook his head.

"I didn't take anything from you.""

"That's not what I asked.""

He swallowed.

"I borrowed money from Dad.""

"How much?""

He didn't answer.

I slammed the letter onto the table.

"How much?""

"Eight thousand dollars.""

Mom gasped.

I stared at him.

"Eight thousand?""

"It wasn't all at once.""

"That makes it better?""

"No.""

"Why did you need eight thousand dollars?""

Andre rubbed his hands together.

"I made some bad decisions.""

"What kind of decisions?""

He looked toward Mom.

She stood.

"Andre, if you're going to tell us, tell us the whole truth.""

He looked at me again.

"I was trying to start a business with a friend. We were buying and reselling used cars. I put money into it, and the other guy disappeared with most of the money.""

I stared at him.

"So you lost eight thousand dollars.""

"Not exactly.""

"What does that mean?""

He hesitated.

"I also owed money to people who'd helped finance the deal.""

My mother sat down again.

"People who helped finance it?""

Andre nodded.

"Private lenders.""

I felt a chill spread through me.

"You borrowed money from people you barely knew to buy cars?""

"I thought it was a good opportunity.""

"And when it went wrong, you asked Dad for money.""

"Yes.""

I looked down at the letter.

My father had known something was wrong. He'd refused to send more money without proof. He'd warned my mother not to let Andre involve me.

But the letter didn't explain why Andre had come home in June.

I pulled out the bank transfer.

The amount was $3,200.

The recipient's name was Andre.

The sender was my father.

I stared at the date.

It was two days before Andre came home.

"You told us you needed money for rent," I said.

Andre nodded.

"That was part of it.""

"Part of it?""

"I needed to pay some of the debt.""

Mom looked horrified.

"Your father told me he wasn't sending you any more money.""

"He sent that before he changed his mind.""

I held up the transfer.

"And you told me you were coming home because your lease was ending.""

"I didn't want you worrying.""

I laughed bitterly.

"You didn't want me worrying, so you lied about everything?""

Andre looked exhausted.

"I was trying to fix my life.""

"By sleeping with my girlfriend?""

His head snapped up.

"Those things aren't connected.""

"Everything is connected now!""

My voice echoed through the kitchen.

Mom reached for the letter.

I pulled it away.

"Wait.""

I hadn't finished reading.

The final paragraph was written in darker ink, as if my father had added it later.

If Andre returns home and asks for more money, please check the account I established for Nico's education before agreeing to anything. I have reason to believe Andre knows about it.

I stopped breathing.

My education account.

My father had opened a savings account when I was little, supposedly to help with college expenses. Mom had told me there was money set aside, but we'd never discussed the amount. I assumed it was a modest fund that might cover books or part of tuition.

I looked at Andre.

"Did you take money from my college account?""

He shook his head.

"No.""

"Then why does Dad think you might?""

"I didn't take money from your account.""

"Did you try?""

His silence lasted one second too long.

I stepped away from the table.

"Andre.""

He swallowed.

"I asked Dad if he would lend me some of it.""

My mother covered her mouth.

I stared at him.

"You asked him to take money meant for my future so you could pay your debts?""

"I said I'd pay it back.""

"That wasn't the question!""

"I didn't take it!""

"Because Dad said no?""

Andre's face crumpled.

"Yes.""

The room went silent.

I looked at the letter again.

For months, my brother had been trying to solve a financial disaster he'd created. My father had refused to give him more money, and Andre had come home looking for another way to fix things.

I thought about his messages to Aaliyah.

His insistence that we keep things quiet.

His repeated warnings that the truth would destroy everything.

Maybe he'd been afraid of losing me.

Maybe he'd been afraid of losing his family.

But I was beginning to suspect that fear had become his excuse for every selfish decision he'd made.

"Why didn't you tell us?"" Mom asked.

Andre sank into a chair.

"Because I was ashamed.""

"You could have asked for help," she whispered.

"I did. Dad said no.""

"Then you could have told me.""

"I didn't want you looking at me like this.""

Mom stared at him.

"Like what?""

"Like I'm a failure.""

Her face softened for one brief moment.

Then she looked at the papers again.

"Andre, you lied to your brother. You lied to me. You brought trouble into this house, and you let Nico believe he was the problem.""

Andre looked at me.

"I never wanted any of this to happen.""

I shook my head.

"You keep talking about what you wanted. What about what you did?""

He had no answer.

I gathered the documents and placed them back in the envelope.

Then I noticed a second sheet of paper folded behind the bank transfer.

It was a handwritten note from my father.

My name appeared at the top.

I unfolded it.

Nico, if you're reading this, something has gone wrong, and I owe you an explanation. There is money in the education account, but the amount is not what you think. Your mother does not know everything about the arrangement because I wanted to keep the details private until you turned eighteen.

I frowned.

"What arrangement?""

I read the next sentence.

Before I explain, you need to know that Andre's debt is not the only financial matter I have been trying to resolve.

I looked up.

Andre was watching me with an expression I'd never seen before.

Not guilt.

Fear.

I continued reading.

There is a second account. It was opened in your name when you were fourteen. I did not authorize the most recent withdrawal.

My hands went cold.

I looked at the account statement attached to the note.