She Won’t Move
Brooke stands directly in front of Isaiah, arms firm at her sides, refusing to step back. Her eyes are sharp with anger, but there’s something steadier underneath it — determination.
Isaiah shifts his weight, avoiding her gaze, clearly looking for a way out of the conversation.
BROOKE: You’re going to face me tomorrow, Isaiah. I mean it.
ISAIAH: Brooke, now isn’t the time for this.
BROOKE: There’s never a good time for you, is there?
Isaiah tries to step past her. Brooke moves to block him, unwilling to let the moment slip away again.
BROOKE: Tomorrow. Or there will be consequences you can’t walk away from.
ISAIAH: Is that a threat?
BROOKE: It’s a promise.
The Document
Brooke reaches into her bag and pulls out a folded medical document. Her hand shakes slightly, but her resolve doesn’t waver. She holds it out toward Isaiah, almost forcing it into his hands.
BROOKE: Read it.
ISAIAH: What is this?
BROOKE: Read it, Isaiah.
Isaiah takes the paper hesitantly and unfolds it. His eyes scan the page. The confidence drains from his face in real time — his eyes widen, his hands begin to tremble, and the paper nearly slips from his grip.
It’s a medical record. Three months pregnant. A secret Brooke has been carrying alone, hidden even from her father Larry and Sharra.
ISAIAH: This — this can’t be right.
BROOKE: It’s right. It’s real. And it’s not going away because you’re scared.
No More Running
Brooke steps closer, emotionally raw but unshaken. She places one hand protectively over her belly, tears of anger gathering in her eyes.
BROOKE: This baby is yours, Isaiah. Not a rumor. Not a mistake you get to forget.
Isaiah stares at her, speechless, the paper still trembling in his hand.
BROOKE: If you refuse to acknowledge this — if you refuse to acknowledge me — I will take this to court. I will not let you run from your responsibility anymore.
Isaiah opens his mouth, but no words come out. For the first time, there’s nowhere left for him to look away to.
BROOKE: Tomorrow, Isaiah. Face me — or face the consequences.
Isaiah stands frozen, the document trembling in his hand, as Brooke holds her ground — one hand on her belly, one line drawn firmly between them, leaving him no room left to disappear into.