17. Lila
17
LILA
T he waiting room smells like antiseptic and lavender, an odd but strangely comforting mix. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my already fraying nerves. Soft chatter fills the space—the occasional giggle from an excited expectant mother, the rustle of magazines being flipped through, the beeping of the receptionist’s computer.
I sit in the corner, my hands folded in my lap, my sweater pulled loosely around me.
I blend in here.
I look like any other soon-to-be mother, waiting to check on my baby.
But unlike the other women in this room, I’m alone.
A few seats away, a couple murmurs softly to each other. The man rests his hand on his wife’s belly, grinning as she talks excitedly about feeling the baby kick. Across from me, another soon-to-be father leans over a pregnancy book, his arm draped protectively around his partner’s shoulders.
The sight of them sends a dull ache through my chest.
I turn away.
I made my choice. I ran .
I can’t allow myself to wonder what it would be like if Mikhail were here.
He wouldn’t sit here, murmuring about baby kicks. He wouldn’t rub my belly in public or read What to Expect When You’re Expecting .
But he would be here.
And I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.
“Leah Carter?”
I snap out of my thoughts as the nurse calls my name.
I stand quickly, gripping my bag as I follow her down the hall. The exam room is quiet, sterile, a light pink curtain pulled to one side.
Dr. Reynolds is already there, greeting me with a warm smile. She’s been my doctor since I arrived in Camden Hill—a kind woman with sharp blue eyes and a no-nonsense approach that somehow never feels harsh.
“How are we feeling today?” she asks, rolling her stool forward as she gestures for me to sit.
I settle onto the cushioned chair, exhaling slowly. “Good. Mostly.”
She lifts an eyebrow. “Mostly?”
I hesitate, shifting. “Just…a little more tired than usual.”
She hums knowingly, flipping through my chart. “That’s normal. You’re nearing the home stretch now—around seven months in. How’s the baby?”
I place a hand on my belly instinctively. “Moving a lot,” I admit with a small smile. “Especially at night.”
Dr. Reynolds chuckles. “Ah, a night owl. That’ll be fun for you.”
I let out a soft laugh, but it fades quickly.
She glances at me, something understanding in her gaze. “Are you feeling okay emotionally?”
I tense. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
She doesn’t look convinced.
I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about the loneliness, about how every time I see other couples preparing for their baby together, I feel this sharp twist of regret.
Because no matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise, a part of me wants Mikhail here.
And that part of me is dangerous .
“Well,” Dr. Reynolds says, thankfully moving on, “let’s check on your little one.”
I nod, exhaling as she wheels over the ultrasound machine.
The gel is cold against my skin, making me shiver slightly. Then, a moment later?—
A soft, rhythmic whoosh-whoosh-whoosh fills the room.
My heart clenches. Every single time, it’s the same. The sound of my baby’s heartbeat makes everything real all over again.
Dr. Reynolds smiles. “Strong heartbeat. Everything’s looking great.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
For a few moments, I let myself forget everything else. I just stare at the screen, watching the tiny form of my baby move inside me, stretching, shifting, growing.
My child.
Mikhail’s child.
Dr. Reynolds’ expression shifts. Her eyes narrow slightly as she moves the ultrasound wand, adjusting the angle, the pressure.
I frown. “Something wrong?”
She doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she bites the inside of her cheek, shifting the screen slightly.
“Hmm,” she murmurs.
That sound—the noncommittal, vaguely concerned hmm—makes my pulse spike.
“What?” My voice tightens as my fingers dig into the cushioned exam table beneath me.
Dr. Reynolds doesn’t look at me right away. She moves the wand again, scanning the screen like she’s trying to solve a puzzle, and then finally she sets it aside.
“I’ll be right back,” she says, her tone too neutral.
My stomach knots.
She leaves the room before I can press further, slipping out the door with the kind of professional efficiency that should be comforting.
It’s not.
My mind races, my heart hammering wildly as I stare at the ultrasound screen still glowing beside me. Everything looked fine. The heartbeat was strong. So what the hell is happening?
I don’t have to wait long.
Dr. Reynolds returns a minute later, this time with a nurse in tow.
I sit up straighter. “Doctor?”
She gives me a reassuring smile, but there’s something careful about it. Like she’s trying not to startle me.
“Leah, I don’t want you to panic,” she says, glancing at the screen again. “Everything looks good.”
“But?” I ask, my breath coming faster now.
Dr. Reynolds exchanges a brief look with the nurse before turning back to me.
“Your babies seem to be healthy—both of them, but we’ll need to do a few extra tests. You’re having twins.”
The world tilts.
I blink. “What?”
She smiles now, a real smile, nodding as she points to the screen, showing me the form of my second baby. It’s obvious now that she’s pointed it out. “I suspected at your last visit that something seemed different, but today we can see there are definitely two babies.”
Two.
Two.
The word echoes in my head, bouncing off every corner of my brain.
Twins.
My stomach drops, and for a moment, I can’t even breathe.
I was already struggling to process the thought of having one baby.
Now I’m having two?
A small, disbelieving laugh escapes me, but it’s shaky. “That—how is that possible?”
Dr. Reynolds chuckles. “It’s more common than you think. Sometimes, twins can be missed early on if one is positioned behind the other. It looks like that’s what happened here.”
I stare at the screen, my hands resting over my belly as if I can feel the truth of her words.
Twins.
Two babies.
Two pieces of Mikhail.
My vision blurs slightly, a wave of dizziness hitting me square in the chest.
I can barely handle the idea of one child tying me to him forever. But two?
I don’t know what will happen.
I swallow hard. “What tests do we need to do?”
Dr. Reynolds’ eyes soften. “Just a few precautionary ones. We’ll do some blood work today and schedule another ultrasound to confirm positioning.”
I nod, my hands gripping the fabric of my sweater tightly.
The air outside is crisp as I step out of the clinic, still numb from the news. My body moves on autopilot as I walk down the familiar streets of Camden Hill, heading back toward the café.
My mind, however, is a hurricane.
Twins.
I had barely come to terms with the idea of having one baby—of keeping one baby safe from Mikhail.
But now there are two.
Two children. Two lives. Two reasons why I can’t be found.
My steps quicken as I reach the small café, needing the comfort of routine, of something normal. The bell above the door chimes as I step inside. The scent of coffee and baked goods wraps around me like a blanket, but it does little to settle the riot inside me.
Maggie looks up from behind the counter, and for the first time in a long time, she looks sheepish. Her curls are pulled into a messy ponytail, and she fiddles with a dish towel.
“Leah,” she says, offering a hesitant smile. “I’m so sorry.”
I sigh, dropping my bag onto the counter. “Maggie?—”
“No, seriously.” She steps closer, gripping the towel tightly. “I was a dick. I shouldn’t have lied to you, and I definitely shouldn’t have pulled that stunt to get you to the party.”
I cross my arms, arching an eyebrow. “You think?”
She winces. “I thought it was harmless! But when I saw your face…I realized I messed up.” She exhales, her brown eyes pleading. “I feel awful. Please don’t stay mad at me forever.”
I sigh again, rubbing my temple. The truth is, I don’t have the energy to hold on to my anger—not with everything else I have to deal with.
“I’m not mad,” I finally say, sliding onto one of the stools by the counter.
Maggie’s shoulders sag in relief. “Good. Because I want to make it up to you.”
I tilt my head. “How?”
She grins, eyes gleaming with something suspiciously mischievous. “Let me throw you a baby shower.”
I blink. “Wait, what?”
“A baby shower!” Maggie claps her hands. “You’re getting close now, and I figured—you probably haven’t even thought about it, have you?”
No, I haven’t.
I haven’t let myself think about anything beyond survival, beyond making sure no one finds me, beyond the fact that I’m carrying Mikhail’s children and he has no idea.
Maggie misreads my silence as reluctance and presses on.
“Come on, it’ll be fun! Just a small thing—some cupcakes, a few friends, cute little decorations.” She waggles her brows. “You can even pick a theme. Oh! Maybe something adorable like woodland creatures.”
I let out a breathy laugh, shaking my head. “Maggie, I don’t know?—”
“Oh, don’t even try to say no,” she interrupts. “You need this, Leah. You’ve been working too hard, isolating yourself, and guess what? You deserve a little happiness.”
I hesitate. The logical part of me screams that this is a bad idea. That drawing attention to myself—even for something as innocent as a baby shower—is reckless.
But then, another part of me wants to experience something normal.
And when Maggie’s grin widens in anticipation, I realize I can’t bring myself to tell her no.
“…Fine,” I say, sighing. “But small.”
Maggie squeals in triumph, bouncing on her heels. “You won’t regret this.”
Just as I open my mouth to reply, the door swings open, and Alex walks in.
He takes one look at Maggie’s overexcited expression, then at my tired one, and instantly looks suspicious. “What did I just walk into?”
Maggie claps her hands together. “Perfect timing! You’re officially part of the baby shower committee.”
Alex freezes, his face a mixture of confusion and alarm. “The what?”
Maggie grins and hooks her arm through his. “Oh, don’t act like you’re too cool for this. Leah needs a proper celebration, and you, my friend, are helping make it happen.”
Alex glances at me, his eyebrows raised in silent question.
I shrug helplessly. “I got ambushed.”
He exhales slowly, rubbing a hand down his face before giving me a small smirk. “And you just let it happen?”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help smiling.
Maggie, oblivious to the exchange between us, claps her hands together again. “Great! Now that we’re all on board, let’s start planning.”
As she launches into ideas—most of which sound too extravagant for my taste—I try to ignore the lingering feeling in my chest.
Because for the first time in a long time, I’m allowing myself to enjoy something.
Even if a voice in the back of my mind warns me that it won’t last.
Nothing ever does.