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His kitchen is enormous, but somehow it still feels comfy. It’s the type of place you could feed a whole family in.
“I slept better than I can remember ever sleeping,” I say, stretching. “But you didn’t wake me up. It’s okay. For a moment, I thought you had left the apartment,” I confess, feeling a renewed sense of relief that he’s here with me.
“I would never just leave you like that, especially after what you just went through,” he replies, and a deafening silence falls over both of us.
“We don’t have to talk about it,” he says, feeling my hesitation to relive the nightmare so soon. I know he’s probably too emotionally raw for me to tell him something so horrible.
Not to mention, I still haven’t told him about the baby.
“Akim, there’s something I really need to talk to you about,” I say, trying to keep my tone as neutral and non-confrontational as possible.
He pauses for a moment, his face overshadowed by anxiety. “Yeah, what’s up?” he says, mentally preparing himself for something horrifying.
I try to find the words, but every time I open my mouth to speak, they escape me like water through my fingers. When I say it out loud to him, it will become real.
“It’s okay. Take your time,” he says, walking over to me and laying the plate of pancakes down. He takes my hand and squeezes it lightly. His eyes are patient and kind, giving me the confidence I need to get the words out.
“I’m pregnant, Akim. It’s yours. I know that for a fact. I don’t know how far along I am, but I know that I’m pregnant,” I announce, my mouth going dry mid-sentence.
Akim holds my gaze for a moment, completely speechless. For a split second, I’m convinced that he’s going to be upset, and my stomach turns as I wait for a response.
Just as I’m about to panic and tell him to say something, I see him start to smile. The light in his eyes takes over his whole face, and if I didn’t know better, I’d ask if he was about to start crying.
“You’re pregnant? How do you know?” he asks, and while I’m uncertain that the answer will help sustain his joy, I decide it’s important for me to be honest with him.
“Luka made me take a pregnancy test before I could be considered for his work,” I say, feeling some of the tension in the air turn to a heavy sadness.
Akim falls silent, but his grip on my hand grows stronger. “You don’t have to say anymore. What’s important is that you’re here, you’re okay, and our baby is safe,” he says, lifting his other hand to my cheek and holding my face.
I feel a tear escape from my eye, and at first, I feel the compulsion to wipe it away, to pretend that I’m emotionally unaffected by this whole ordeal. I don’t want Akim to think I’m weak or damaged from what happened, but there’s no way to pretend that I won’t be haunted by it for the rest of my life.
The air becomes heavy with the weight of my grief, for the death of the woman in the basement and for the life I was supposed to have free from this trauma. I know I have a long road ahead of me when it comes to recovery, and I’m scared to see what emerges as I force myself to process all of this. I know I can’t do it alone, and I’m terrified.
Instead of speaking, he walks around the table to join me, holding me from behind as I slowly begin to unravel.
Finally, after all this time, I feel safe enough to let go of my strength, to collapse and feel the weight of my circumstances so that I can finally begin to move on.
He just holds me there for what feels like forever while the waves of sadness, anger, and relief wash over me, crashing over my head like a tidal wave. If I was standing, I’d collapse to my knees. The weight of my grief is so heavy as I remember the woman that Luka shot, the only person there that I felt even remotely safe with.
As my crying finally abates, Akim pulls away.
“No, stay here,” I blurt, desperate for his warmth against me.
“I just wanted to ask you a question,” he says softly.
I tilt my chin up to him, smiling weakly. “Yes?”
He lays a kiss on my forehead. “I wanted to know if you felt well enough to go find a doctor tomorrow? I’ll go with you, of course. I just want to make sure you’re alright before I ask you to do something like that.”
I sit up, turning my body to face him. “I think so. Either way, I need to see a doctor as soon as possible to make sure that the baby is alright,” I reply, looking him in the eyes.
“We could go now,” he says, pulling back again.
“No,” I plead softly. “Just… just stay here for a bit. We can go tomorrow.”
His face softens, and he melts back into me.
* * *
