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"Serena, are you enjoying your meal?" he asks, attempting to initiate a conversation. I know he cooked this meal, hoping for some reconciliation.
I offer a simple nod in response, avoiding eye contact. His next question comes as no surprise.
"Are you getting better?" he asks, his voice tinged with frustration. I nod again, feeling the weight of his expectations pressing upon me.
With a sigh, John breaks the silence that hangs between us.
"How long will you give me the silent treatment, Serena?" he asks, pleading. "I'm only doing what I believe is best for you. You'll realize it soon enough. I have your best interest at heart."
His words ignite a spark of irritation, and I can no longer contain my frustration.
"Does this seem like what’s best for me?" I snap with bitterness. "I’m completely miserable! Your version of 'what’s best for me' has ripped my heart apart."
John's face contorts in pain as he tries to defend his actions. "Serena, all I ever want is what’s best for you. Michael is not the best choice for you."
I scoff at his statement, anger bubbling within me. "Why? Because he's older than me? Because he's your best friend and business partner? "
"Why are you being so difficult?" John's voice is filled with anguish. "Why can't you see that I love you, and I say Michael is not the best choice because I care about you?"
I do my best to stay calm and I speak with clarity.
"When have I ever said you don't love or care about me, Uncle John?" I pause, gathering my thoughts. "I love you, and I’m grateful for everything you’ve done to raise me, but I need to live my life outside of your care. And you need to live your life outside of taking care of me. Your world has revolved around me for so long that it's become hard for you to let me go."
My words strike a chord with John, and I see the rigid stance he held is beginning to thaw, and his heart is opening up.
As the silence stretches on, I know it's time to drop the final bombshell. I take a deep breath before I say, "I love Michael... and I'm pregnant." John's eyes widen in shock, and he struggles to find words.
"What?" he stammers, shaking his head.
"I'm pregnant, Uncle John," I repeat, "And I'm going to tell Michael."
Before John can react or try to stop me, I push my chair back and swiftly exit. I can hear him chasing me in desperation, but I don’t stop. I rush out of the house and into one of the cars, gripping the steering wheel tightly as I drive toward Michael's house. My heart races, fueled by fear and determination.
The street is in the soft glow of the streetlights as I speed up along the road, my heart pounding. Thoughts of Michael consume my mind, and the urgency to reach him overpowers any sense of caution.
I fail to notice the red light ahead and go through the intersection.
As my foot presses against the gas pedal, time slows down as my thoughts focus solely on the destination. The sound of screeching tires fills the air as my car hurtles forward, colliding with another vehicle that has innocently entered the intersection.
I can hear the sound of destruction – metal colliding with metal, glass shattering and flying like deadly confetti.
The impact jolts my body violently, propelling me forward into the dashboard. It leaves me breathless, my body lurching against the unforgiving restraints of the seatbelt, and I feel like I am being punched in the face as the airbag explodes. Pain radiates through every fiber of my body, and I’m in agony.
In that suspended moment, time stands still. The world around me becomes a blur of fragmented images—a shattered windshield, the eerie glow of the streetlights casting an ethereal haze, and the scent of burning rubber mixed with the metallic taste of blood.
Silence follows after the chaos as the car comes to a screeching halt. It hangs heavy in the air, broken only by the sound of my labored breaths and the thoughts of fear and regret. My vision blurs and the darkness creeps in to engulf me completely.
Reality crashes back as adrenaline fuels my desperate fight against unconsciousness. With trembling hands and aching limbs, I fumble for the door handle, my body protesting in pain with every movement. The door creaks open, and I stumble out, but my legs are like jelly beneath me.
The scene before me is devastating – Twisted metal wreckage. Smoke rising. Sirens wail in the distance, and the sound grows louder with each passing moment, heralding the arrival of help. It's chaos.
Pain radiates through my body, sharp and insistent, but it pales in comparison to the ache in my heart. Michael's face, his smile, his touch—it all floods my thoughts, mingling with the fear and uncertainty from the accident. With every breath, I pray for strength and a chance to reach Michael to tell him the news of our baby growing inside me.
As the first responders arrive on the scene, their urgent voices and hurried movements surround me. They assess the situation, their trained eyes scanning the wreckage, searching for signs of life. And in that chaos, I whisper Michael’s name and send a prayer to the universe that the news of the baby will reach him.
The pain intensifies, reminding me of the consequences of my recklessness. Even though my body starts to give up, I am determined to fight for the life growing inside me and the love I hold dear for Michael.
As I lay there, the world spinning around me, I cling to the sliver of hope. My baby and I will survive, and I can share the news with Michael.
