45. Elyse
CHAPTER 45
Elyse
THE FUTURE THAT NEVER WAS
PRESENT
“ I thought you’d hate me for leaving in the first place. And then, after it happened, I hated myself enough for both of us. I thought it was my punishment for walking away from you.”
My mind immediately goes back to walking in on her in the bathroom, hunched over the sink like she’d been puking. “You were pregnant when you came to visit. That’s why you were sick.”
She shakes her head, gnawing on her bottom lip. “I was sick because I knew I was going to breakup with you. I think I was still too early to have those kinds of symptoms. It might’ve added to it, but I truly had no idea. I wouldn’t have broken up with you had I known. I would’ve been more terrified than anything, and needed you.”
The silence between us extends, suffocating and unbearable. She’s still trembling, and I don’t think she even realizes it.
“Ellie…” I begin, but my voice pauses. What could I possibly say? That I should have been there? That I wish I co uld have stopped her pain? That I’m furious she went through this alone?
Instead, I pull her into me. She stiffens at first, but when I wrap my arms around her and press her to my chest, she collapses, breaking apart in my arms. Her sobs come hard and fast, and I let her cry, cradling her like she’s fragile.
“You didn’t have to go through that alone,” I finally whisper, my voice shaking as much as hers. “You didn’t deserve to carry that by yourself. And fuck, you were just a kid. We were kids.”
Her fingers clutch onto my shoulders like they’re the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth. “I thought…I thought you’d never forgive me.”
I gently pull back just enough to tip her chin up, forcing her to meet my gaze. My own tears blur my vision, but I don’t wipe them away.
“There’s nothing to forgive.” My voice breaks under the weight of my emotions. “You were hurting, Ellie. And clearly I was being a piece of shit boyfriend for not realizing how much you were struggling. You made the best decision you could at the time. But I wish you had told me—about what happened. I wish I could’ve been there for you.”
Her lip quivers, and she shakes her head. “I didn’t think I deserved you.”
I press my forehead to hers, closing my eyes as the pain between us hums like a windstorm. “You’ve always deserved more than you think, querida mía. You always have.”
Her sobs quiet, replaced by shallow, uneven breaths. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers again, like she can’t stop herself.
“Stop apologizing.”
“I was so awful to you.” She swipes the tears on her cheeks. “It was easier—to be mean. I didn’t want you to like me, I wanted you to hate me, to hate me like I hated myself.”
I brush my lips to her forehead. “I could never hate you.”
We’re quiet as we hold each other. I have questions, most for another time, but one I can’t contain.
“Do you know what the baby was?”
Silently, she shakes her head. “It was too early.”
“What happened afterward?”
The question slips out before I can stop myself. Realizing how invasive I sound, I quickly backtrack. “You know what? Never mind. I'm sure it's not something you like talking about.”
She gives me a soft smile, but her voice is laced with sadness.
“I had to have a D&C, which is standard after miscarriages. It’s a procedure that just kind of…clears everything out.” She stops for a moment, her eyes falling shut, before taking a breath. “My mom took me. A few months later, we went to the doctor for a full checkup, just to make sure everything was okay. It was. The doctor said I shouldn't have trouble having kids one day—but you never know."
“Is that something you want? Do you want kids?” I ask, hesitantly, unsure if I should’ve asked it in the first place.
“Yeah, I think so. My family is huge, so probably just one or two. But kids, someday—when the timing feels right.”
“I want kids, too,” I admit. "More than a couple, actually."
She laughs lightly and nudges my shoulder. “If they're coming out of my vagina, I get to decide how many.”
Her playful tone makes me smile, but my thoughts slip into a deeper place. “It kind of turns me on, thinking about trying. Getting you pregnant, watching your stomach grow with our baby…”
Her eyebrows shoot up. "Never took you for a breeding kink guy," she teases, and her cheeks flush faintly.
“Querida mía, I have every kink for you.”The moment lightens for a second before I sober again. “I want you to know—If you hadn't miscarried back then, I would've stepped up. I would've been excited, even if it would’ve completely changed our lives. I need you to know that.”
She looks away for a beat, her voice quieter when she speaks. “After I had some time to process it, I fell into a depression. I’d never been depressed and didn’t recognize what it was at first. It felt hard to do anything. Existing felt exhausting. I was grieving someone I never even knew, yet I felt so connected to them. And I felt guilty—because sometimes, I was relieved it happened. How messed up is that?”
“It's not messed up. You were young, scared, and dealing with a lot. That's normal. I just—I should've been there. I should've come after you. Fuck, I screwed up so badly.”
Her eyes swivel to mine, full of understanding I feel I don't deserve. “It's not like I made it easy for you. I blocked you on everything, shut you out completely. And honestly? I wouldn't have responded well if you had come after me. I was in such a dark place back then. Scottie and my mom were the only people I let in. They’re the only reason I even made it through school.”
I hold her closer, probably too tight, but I don’t care. My heart hurts for her, for us, for the loss of a baby I didn’t know existed.
I don’t like to buy into the woe is me mentality, but it’s hard not to in this instance. Our lives could’ve been so different, and I think a part of me will always mourn the future that never was.