CHAPTER 267: CHAPTER 267: THE IMPOSSIBLE DECISION

~Nantam’s POV~

"Nantam, I’m lost." His voice was choked with helplessness.

I took a few ragged breaths, trying to stabilize my own shock. The details of my recent detention, the shame, the cold police cell, the stubborn pride that kept me there, all vanished. This was an actual, monumental crisis. My mind, which was always good at strategy, clicked back into place.

"Zayn, listen to me," I said, putting a hand on his shoulder, shaking him slightly to pull him out of the breakdown. "We can worry about Meera’s motives later, but right now, we deal with the facts. How long ago did she have this baby?"

He sniffled, trying to piece it together. "I... I don’t know exactly. She just said she had a baby boy. It must’ve been after we broke up... Wait, no... the timing..." His voice faltered, panic rising. "I honestly don’t know, Nantam. I can’t start questioning her, it would make me look like I’m avoiding responsibility. The baby’s innocent, Nantam. What am I supposed to do?"

"Stop trying to calculate and stop worrying about Meera’s opinion," I ordered, my voice firm. "If she’s claiming this now, she’s timing it to influence your choice with Evric. We have maybe thirty-six hours before your deadline. You are absolutely right, the baby is innocent, and if it’s yours, you’ll step up. But you cannot make a decision based on panic or guilt."

I leaned in, making eye contact. "How can you be sure the baby is yours? You can’t. And you won’t ask her, because she’ll use your hesitation as proof of your neglect."

I pulled my phone out of my pocket. "We need to verify the absolute truth without her knowledge. I know people who can move fast and discreetly. I was a selfish fool, Zayn, but I’m still your best friend, and I can fix this part."

I immediately started making calls. I tapped into my old contacts, people from our university days who were still close to Meera. It took a few frantic conversations, but one thing became clear: Meera did get pregnant after Zayn and she separated. However, none of Meera’s friends, who had kept up with her life, knew the father of the baby.

When I finished the last call, I relayed the information, my heart sinking with suspicion. "Meera definitely had a child. But the identity of the father is a complete mystery, even to her closest friends. That doesn’t mean you’re the father, Zayn, but it definitely means she’s hiding something."

"How sure are you?" Zayn asked, his face pale.

"I can’t say for sure, but we don’t have time to wait for a DNA test," I said, thinking fast. "Let’s assume, for the sake of argument, that you are truly the father of the baby. That shouldn’t affect your relationship with Evric! You could just come out to Evric and tell him that you might possibly have a child. Zayn, you have to talk to Evric about this."

Zayn shook his head, his face crumpling. "What if Evric loses interest after hearing that? The deadline is Saturday!"

"The Evric I know," I assured him, resting my hand on his shoulder, "won’t just give up on your relationship because you might have a child. He loves you, and this child is from your past, not a choice you made today. Pending the time we can be sure you’re the father or not, you should find a way and tell Evric first. If he runs, he wasn’t the man you thought he was. But he won’t. Trust me on this."

"I’m scared, Nantam," Zayn admitted, his voice barely audible. "I’m terrified."

"You shouldn’t be. And just because you have a child with Meera doesn’t mean it’s a must that you get back with her," I said, my voice picking up conviction. "She’s just trying to manipulate you, to trap you."

"What are we going to do now?" Zayn asked, finally ready for a plan.

I leaned in close to him. I whispered a short, complex instruction, a strategy designed to buy time and expose Meera’s true motivations.

Zayn’s eyes widened. "Will that work out?"

"With this one," I said, a dark smile playing on my lips, "trust me. It will work out."

He finally turned to me, a flash of the old, loving gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you, friend."

I was still focused on the phone, ready to implement step one of the plan, when Zayn suddenly spoke again.

"Hey, Nantam, do me a favor. Can you get that toolbox from the back of the trunk for me?"

"Okay," I said, confused but compliant. I got out of the car and walked around to the trunk.

I heard the window motor whir down, and Zayn’s voice cut through the air. "I’m sorry, friend. See this as a payback for what you did."

"What do you mean?" I demanded, turning around.

Before I could fully register the situation, Zayn slammed the accelerator. The car lurched forward, tires screeching, and he drove away, leaving me standing alone on the roadside.

"Zayn, you idiot! You absolute son of a—!" I shouted, cursing him.

I was reaching into my pocket for my phone, I hadn’t even finished the insult, when a luxurious black car, sleek and silent, drove up and slid to a stop right in front of me. The window whirred down.

It was Evans.

I rolled my eyes. "I thought as much," I muttered, crossing my arms.

Evans smiled smoothly, perfectly composed. "Hi Nantam. I guess you need a ride."

"A ride, my foot," I snapped, crossing my arms tightly. "I don’t need your help. I’ll call my brother, he’ll come get me."

"Your brother’s out of the city for business," Evans replied casually.

I cursed my brother under my breath—why now, of all times? And then glared at Zayn in my mind, I don’t want his help.

"Don’t worry," I said quickly, trying to cover up. "I will call Dean."

Evans’s smile didn’t waver, but his eyes held a knowing glint. "I already told him not to pick up your call, Nantam."

I narrowed my eyes. That bastard had anticipated my every move. "Never mind," I scoffed, trying to regain my composure. "I have friends who will pick me up."

Evans sighed, pulling the lever to open his door. He stepped out, closing the door softly. He looked too pristine standing on the dusty roadside. "Why are you being so stubborn, Nantam?"

"Don’t you get it?" I retorted, the fury draining into weary defiance. "I do not want to have anything to do with you. Ever. Just go."

"I’m only trying to be your friend, Nantam. That’s all," Evans said, his voice dropping softly, annoyingly gentle.

My resolve crumbled a little. I was exhausted, standing on the side of a road after spending almost a week in the cell. Evans saw the shift.

"Will you let me help you?"

"Fine," I conceded, my voice flat. I set my condition. "I won’t say thank you or appreciate your help, because I did not ask for it."

"Okay," Evans replied easily, giving a small shrug. "You don’t have to thank me."

With grudging reluctance, I slid into the back of the car. Evans followed, and with a small nod, he instructed his driver to drive.

"Take a left at the next light," I started, about to give directions to my home.

Evans cut in, his voice low and definite: "Straight home."

I turned to him immediately, my temper flaring again. "Didn’t you just promise me right now, that you were just trying to be a friend?"

Evans finally turned his head, the smooth smile returning, but now it carried a dangerous edge. "I don’t keep promises, Nantam, especially when I want something or someone—too badly."

I clenched my jaw, the words a strained whisper. "I hate you."

Evans simply chuckled, entirely unconcerned. "Don’t worry. You will like me later."