Chapter 2: The Weight of Whispers

His body was warm, his heartbeat steady and comforting. For a moment, I let myself sink into him, pretending we were just any other couple, nothing between us but love.

His voice was gentle. “Are you mad?”

He whispered the question into my hair, his breath warm at my ear. I shook my head, not trusting my voice.

“No.”

It slipped out, quiet and shaky. I hoped he couldn’t hear the wobble.

“You sure?”

He squeezed me tighter, his hand tracing circles on my back. I swallowed, fighting tears.

“Really, I’m not.”

I tried to sound normal, but my throat was tight. I kept my face turned away, not wanting him to see my eyes.

He kissed my earlobe and sighed. “Babe, I really don’t want kids. Can’t you meet me halfway on this?”

His lips lingered against my skin, soft and a little sad. I bit my lip, fighting the urge to argue. I knew he meant it, but I also knew I couldn’t give him what he wanted—not anymore.

But…

By the moonlight spilling through the window, I saw my purse hanging on the coat rack, swaying in the breeze.

Shadows danced across the room, painting everything in blue and silver. My purse looked so harmless, but I knew what was inside.

A slip of white paper peeked out.

It was today’s pregnancy test report.

Patient status: Pregnant.

The word glared up at me, impossible to ignore. My hands shook as I remembered the nurse’s gentle smile, the way she’d pressed the paper into my palm.

I was pregnant.

I honestly had no idea how this even happened!

I replayed every memory, every careful step. It didn’t add up. But there it was, plain as day.

Every time with Evelyn, we were careful—every single time!

I double-checked dates, the stash of protection in the drawer. I tried to convince myself it was a mistake, a glitch, something science could explain away.

I’d never been with anyone else, and even if I had, I wouldn’t have skipped protection.

The idea made me laugh, dry and bitter. I’d never even looked at anyone else since Evelyn. The thought was almost insulting.

Plus, my periods were always weird anyway.

I’d spent years brushing off missed cycles, blaming stress or hormones. It never seemed like a big deal—until now.

The day before yesterday, Evelyn asked, concern written all over his face, “It didn’t come again this month?”

He was perched on the edge of the bed, his hand on my ankle. His brow furrowed in that way that made him look both older and softer than usual.

I was sprawled out reading. “Same old story. It’s fine.”

I didn’t look up, hoping he’d drop it. Dodging questions was my specialty, pretending everything was normal.

He held my ankle, fiddling with it. “It’s been years and it’s still not better. Babe, you gotta take care of yourself.”

He squeezed gently, thumb tracing lazy circles. I smiled, but didn’t meet his eyes.

I brushed him off. “Yeah, I’ll go to the doctor in a couple days.”

I made it sound like a joke, but I meant it this time. Something about the way he looked at me made me want to promise him the world.

I figured it’d be a routine checkup, maybe some meds, slow tweaks. Who knew, this time at the hospital, I got shuffled from endocrinology to OB-GYN.

The nurse glanced at my chart, then at me, and smiled kindly. “Let’s just run a quick test, honey. It’s probably nothing.” I nodded, not thinking twice. The hospital lights were harsh, the waiting room freezing.

In the end, I somehow walked out with a pregnancy test report.

I stared at the paper, reading it over and over, as if it might change. It didn’t.

I couldn’t believe it. I scrolled through Reddit, reading all sorts of threads:

—No post-coital check, condom broke.

I fell into a rabbit hole of stories from women just as stunned as I was. Odds, percentages, fate, accidents, the universe’s weird sense of humor.

Standing at the hospital entrance, clutching the pregnancy report, I stared blankly at the crowd.

The world kept spinning, everyone else moving on with their lives. I felt frozen, invisible, alone.

There was only a fertilized egg in my belly, not even an embryo yet.

I pressed a hand to my stomach, barely breathing. It didn’t feel real. Nothing had changed, but everything had.

But it was like I could hear another heartbeat echoing with mine.

Thump, thump.

That was my child’s heartbeat, tied to me by blood.

I closed my eyes and listened, imagining a tiny drum beating inside me. It made me smile, just a little.

Evelyn had to leave for a sudden overseas business trip.

He called in a rush, suitcase half-packed, tickets flashing on his phone. He looked tired, but still managed a smile when he saw me.

Before he left, he nagged: “Don’t eat junk food, cut back on the soda, make sure you eat real meals while I’m gone, and don’t run around.”

He hovered like a mother hen, double-checking the fridge, making sure I had groceries. I rolled my eyes, but secretly loved how much he cared, even if he didn’t realize it.

I nudged him toward the door. “Yeah, yeah, now get outta here.”

I gave him a playful shove, grinning as he stumbled. He laughed, shook his head, and kissed my forehead one last time.

Evelyn scooped me up and took me down the elevator with him.

He just picked me up, bridal-style, and carried me all the way to the lobby. The doorman gave us a knowing grin, but didn’t say a word.

I was stunned. “What are you doing?”

My voice bounced off the marble. I squirmed, but he just tightened his hold, eyes twinkling with mischief.

He pinched my cheek. “Seeing how eager you are to kick me out, I’ve decided to take you with me.”

He grinned, thumb brushing my cheek. I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help laughing. He always knew how to break my mood.

I protested, “I’m not going!”

I tried to sound tough, but he just shrugged, like it didn’t matter.

Evelyn didn’t budge.

He carried me into the car.

I tried to reason with him. “I really don’t want to go. Why take me with you to work? I don’t even know what you do.”

I pouted, arms crossed. He just grinned, sliding into the backseat beside me.

Whenever I got in the car with Evelyn, the driver would always raise the partition, giving us privacy.