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The words hung heavy in the air. I couldn't believe I was saying them. But as much as being pregnant scared me, as much as telling Tony scared me, it also filled me with a strange excitement.
"I've thought long and hard about it," I spoke, more to myself than the absent Tony, "and I've decided to keep the baby." I paused, my hand unconsciously wandering to my belly. "You have a choice too though. You can decide how involved you want to be. I would really love for you to be a part of this child's life. Even if... even if we don't make it as a couple."
The last words stung, but I had to be realistic. I knew this could be a dealbreaker for us, but I wanted him to know that I supported his choice as well.
As the final words of my speech echoed around the empty dining room, I felt a strange sense of calm wash over me. It wasn't ideal, it wasn't perfect, but it was honest.
The scent of the rosemary chicken grew stronger, a reminder of the real world waiting beyond my anxious musings. I went back to preparing the dinner, trying to shake off my lingering nerves. All that was left was to wait for Tony. And with a deep breath, I resolved to do just that.
The hum of the refrigerator was the only sound in the house, punctuating the anxious silence that had settled over me. 7:30 p.m. The numbers glowed ominously on the wall clock, pushing my nerves into overdrive.
Tony was thirty minutes late. An unexpected twist in our usual routine, where he always showed up promptly, sometimes even early. I found myself constantly peeking at my phone, each passing minute increasing my anxiety.
Initially, I had tried to keep the mood light, texting him.You're running fashionably late, aren't you?andIs this a new strategy? Make the lady wait?But the absence of his witty retort, his silence, was deafening in the quiet room.
As the clock struck eight, my worry transformed into a gnawing fear. What if something had happened to him? What if he was hurt? I couldn't just sit around anymore, chewing on my lower lip. I had to call him.
I reached for my phone, my nerves unraveling. As I dialed his number my mind filled with scenarios I didn't want to imagine. My heart sank when I heard the familiar dial tone, only to sink again as it went straight to voicemail. "You've reached Dr. Antonio Montivais, please leave a message," his prerecorded voice spoke from the other end.
The voicemail beep was a stark reminder of the growing dread inside me. I hung up, feeling even more worried. My rehearsed speech lay forgotten, replaced by fear. Where was he? Had something happened to him? As the minutes turned into hours, I was left with nothing but a looming silence and a hundred unanswered questions.
As worry continued to gnaw away at me, I felt the need for a comforting routine. Almost instinctively, I found myself walking toward the kitchen, reaching for the cabinet where I usually kept my wine. A glass of Pinot Noir had always been my fallback plan on tough days, the smooth drink offering a soothing balm for my nerves.
But as I reached out, my eyes fell on my reflection in the glass door of the cabinet. My hand instinctively dropped and I stood there for a moment, the stark realization washing over me. I couldn't have that glass of wine, not with the little life growing inside me.
Instead, I opened the fridge, pulling out a bottle of sparkling water. I cut a fresh lime, squeezing the tangy juice into the water, the refreshing fizz bringing a semblance of normalcy to the otherwise uncertainty of the evening.
Taking my drink, I moved to the living room and settled down on the couch, my gaze fixed on the door. The inviting scent of the food wafted from the kitchen, a delicious feast that lay untouched.
Sensing my unease, Sadie curled up at my feet, her presence providing some much-needed comfort. As I ran my fingers through her soft fur, my other hand rested on my stomach, and I allowed my situation to be a grounding force against the turmoil of the night.
I continued to watch the clock, waiting, the delicious smell of food beginning to feel suffocating, the untouched dinner a reminder of the fear that continued to grow. As the hours ticked by, I began to think of worst-case scenarios. Had there been an emergency and he got pulled into surgery? Images of him, his brow furrowed in concentration as he navigated through a life-or-death operation filled my mind’s eye. But then a different thought occurred—what if he wasn't at the hospital?
A wave of panic washed over me as my mind painted a more terrifying image—an accident. The roads could be treacherous in winter, and Tony was not the most careful driver. The more I thought about it, the more my worry spiraled, consuming every rational thought, replacing it with horrifying images of twisted metal and flashing lights.
I knew our relationship wasn't exactly a secret at work. We hadn't taken any pains to hide it, but we also hadn't announced it to everyone. We were careful, and yet we were not. The hospital staff knew we were seeing each other, so I assumed if something had happened at work, someone would have called me.
My heart pounded as I tried to squash the rising panic. I wanted to call the hospital, to ask if he was there. I wanted to call the local police station to ask if there had been any accidents. I needed to know he was safe. But there was a part of me that held back, a small voice whispering, "What if it's nothing? What if he simply forgot?"
But even that thought stung. What if he had just forgotten? Was this dinner unimportant to him? Was I? I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the madness. But it was persistent, refusing to be quieted, filling every second of the unnerving silence that stretched on.
I paced around my living room, glancing at my phone every few seconds, hoping to see Tony's name light up the screen. The uncertainty was unbearable, my mind running in circles with unanswered questions. I decided I should try to distract myself, so I moved toward the kitchen to put away the dinner that was apparently going to go uneaten. Every movement felt robotic, a ghost of the enthusiastic preparations I had made earlier.
The smell of the dish now turned my stomach. With the apprehension of telling Tony about our unborn child, I had poured all my emotions into making my favorite meal, using it as a shield against my anxiety. But all of that had been replaced by a rising sense of dread and disappointment.
What was meant to be a night of revelation, of hope and shared joy had turned into a nightmare. I felt alone, the silence of the house pressing down on me, a stark contrast to the lively scenario I had pictured for the evening.
As I moved around the kitchen, my hand once again absent-mindedly moved to my stomach. A small bump was barely noticeable, but I knew it was there. I knew our child was there. And at that moment, I felt an overwhelming sense of love and protectiveness. I promised the tiny life that no matter what, I would protect them and love them, even if I had to do it alone.
With a newfound determination, I turned off the lights in the kitchen and made my way back to the living room, hugging myself tight. Tony had not shown, he hadn't called, he hadn't texted. But I decided it didn't matter. I would tell him when he did decide to show up, when he finally thought to call. I would tell him about our child. And no matter what his reaction was, I would face it.
As I sunk into the couch, Sadie lifting her head briefly to look at me before snuggling back into her position, my mind went back to that conversation between Tony and his colleague. His voice echoed in my head, "I've never even thought of having children..."
My heart clenched in my chest, a deep trepidation settling within me. Could he have somehow found out about the pregnancy and was now avoiding me? But that was impossible. The only person who knew about it was me. I hadn’t confided in anyone else yet. It was my secret, and Tony's absence was nothing more than a strange coincidence.
I groaned aloud, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes. The more I thought about it, the more I felt like I was spiraling into a pit of angst and overthinking.Stop it, Jude, I chastised myself. This was not the time to concoct wild theories. I was being paranoid, a side effect of the enormous secret I was carrying, and the stress of wanting to share it.
I picked up my phone again, staring at the dark screen. I felt a pang of disappointment and worry, a mixture of emotions I hadn’t expected to feel. He could be in trouble. Or he might just be busy. Or he could be avoiding me. The possibilities were endless, and not knowing was driving me insane.
