Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
T hings had been better, so much better, Xavier acknowledged. It had been a hard decision for both of them to let go of the dream of having children. But for Grace especially. It had been something she aspired to. The impetus for so many things in her life.
He could provide her with an extended family, but not being able to give her the one thing she wanted most - well, that stung. He’d be lying if there wasn’t a small part of him that felt like he’d let her down.
On the other hand, the marked lack of pressure on them both had been long overdue and very welcome. Despite Grace’s disappointment, she really did seem better within herself - although really, disappointment was such a tame word, hardly touching the depth of emotion his wife felt about all of this. But her skin had gotten its glow back. Her eyes sparkled again. He hadn’t realised how much the process had taken out of her until they stopped it.
It was the silence, the echo of a house that was meant to be filled with children's laughter, that sometimes gnawed at him now. He would glance at the playroom that would now only ever know adult fun, and the fact that it would never become a nursery haunted him with dreams unfulfilled. It was in those moments that the guilt hit. But he also knew, deep down, they had made the correct choice.
The two of them began to focus on each other more, like in those early days of their romance. They would spend whole weekends without leaving their bed, enveloped in love and their extreme brand of kink.
They took spontaneous weekend trips to places they'd never been before, got lost in big cities, hiked mountain trails until their legs protested. A newfound spark ignited between them, as if to compensate for the loss of another dream. They put their long working hours aside and made time for each other.
Of course, there were still tears. Painful days when Grace would curl into herself and weep for what could have been. On those days, Xavier would hold her as if he could protect her from the world’s cruelties, his strong arms folding around her beautiful, curvy body, while he whispered words of unending love and support.
Or he would give her a good, hard thrashing, whipping her until the endorphins drowned out the hurt, until she was too spent to remember any pain that wasn't physical. In that moment, she would look at him with glassy eyes, saying nothing, but her gratitude palpable, nonetheless. And then he would fuck her hard and fast, a physical reminder that the lifestyle they both loved would be hard to pursue with a child around them.
They found solace in each other's arms, finding reasons to smile even though the wound didn’t disappear entirely; it couldn’t. But as the months passed, they healed, and things felt alright. No, more than alright; they were genuinely happy.
It became a scar they both bore - faded, but never quite forgotten.
And suddenly, almost a year had passed and despite their disappointments, their relationship was stronger than ever.
“What’s the matter, pet? You’re looking a bit pale this morning.” She was still in bed, even though it was past time for them to be up for work.
“Jeez, I’m so tired!” Grace complained. “I feel like I haven’t slept for a week. I think I caught that tummy bug from Jacob, Daniel, and Daisy when I babysat them a few days ago.”
Xavier reached over and placed his hand on her forehead. “I don’t think you’re running a temperature,” he murmured. “But perhaps we shouldn’t go away this weekend.”
They had a strenuous hike planned, but it would be no fun for either of them if Grace was sick.
"No, no, I'll be fine," she protested weakly. "Just a bit of rest today, and I’ll be fine.”
Xavier watched her for a moment, grappling with his concern and the desire to let Grace decide what was best for her. Eventually, he gave a reluctant nod. "Alright, pet. But if you're not feeling better by tomorrow morning, we're cancelling our trip."
She barely acknowledged him, and as he watched her fall back to sleep, he made an executive decision and called her in sick from work.
Grace felt a little disoriented when she woke later. Where was Xavi, and why had he let her sleep? She’d be late for work. Cursing, she threw her legs over the side of the bed, only to be gripped by a wave of nausea that bent her double. The bile rose in her throat, and she barely made it to the toilet before succumbing to the violent retching that seized her.
When it was over, she was shivering and drenched in a cold sweat. She still felt off. Her stomach churned, and she was beyond exhausted. Lurching to the sink, she splashed water on her face, her reflection pale and haggard in the mirror.
She stumbled back to bed, catching sight of the bedside clock as she did so, shocked to see it was past midday. There was a note next to it, and blearily, she scanned it, grateful Xavi had let her office know she was taking a sick day, before she fell asleep again.
For the next few days, Grace was mired in illness. It wasn’t just fatigue – there were bouts of nausea too, unrelenting and fierce… but no fever, and her appetite certainly hadn’t suffered. Once she’d finished throwing up, she was starving.
After four days - past time she would have expected to have recovered, a thought began gnawing in her mind, refusing to let go - could it be? The symptoms matched - but they’d let that dream go...
Did she dare get her hopes up?
On Monday, she felt a lot better, like her body had acclimatised or something, but the nausea was still there. Making her way to the kitchen, she nibbled on some dry crackers, which had helped over the past couple of days, and glanced upstairs towards the bathroom where Xavi was taking a shower and getting ready for his own workday.
She didn’t want to tell him her suspicions.
Not until she was sure. The last thing she wanted was to give him false hope.
So, with her heart hammering in her chest, she left for work as normal, but took a detour to the local pharmacy. Her hands were shaking as she picked up a pregnancy test from the shelf. She felt a lump form in her throat as she paid for it, without even managing to squeak out a thank you to the cashier.
Work dragged. She couldn’t concentrate, her eyes continually darting to her purse where the test was tucked away inside a paper bag. There was no way she was taking the test at her office, but the knowledge of it sitting there, waiting, was gnawing at her.
“Grace, I think you should take the rest of the day off,” her boss finally said. “I don’t think you’re completely over that bug yet.”
Normally, she would have argued; carried on regardless. But not today. Gratefully grabbing the excuse, she packed her things and rushed home.
Thirty minutes later, she sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the little stick in her hands. This tiny piece of plastic held so much power. It could either grant them their deepest desire or plunge them back into the sea of despair they had managed to swim out of.
She took a deep breath and walked into the bathroom, closing the door quietly behind her.
Grace looked at the packet for a long time, staring, but not really seeing the instructions. Should she do this? What if she was just filling herself with false hope? She’d come so far over the past year. If the result was negative, would it undo all the healing she’d achieved?
Would she just be opening old wounds?
A glance at her phone showed Xavi would be home in the next thirty minutes. She’d spent over an hour prevaricating, arguing the pros and cons in her mind. Now the time was gone. If she was going to do this, it had to be now.
Closing her eyes and sucking in a breath, Grace mobilised herself into action. Unwilling to second guess herself any longer, she sat on the toilet and peed on the stick.
She finished, set the plastic wand on the countertop, and checked the time. She righted her clothing. Flushed the toilet. Washed her hands. Dried them.
The seconds seemed to drag by endlessly.
Her heart pounded against her ribs as she waited for the result, staring at the tiny window on the stick.
Minutes - which seemed like hours - later, she emerged from the bathroom, tears streaming down her face.
She sat back on their bed, clutching the test tightly in her hand. It felt like a dream – unreal, yet with a solid heaviness of truth to it. A rush of emotions welled within her, and she didn’t know how to process them, so she just cried. Great, shoulder-quaking sobs.
And that was how Xavier found her when he came home.
He dropped his briefcase at the sight of her and rushed to the bedside. "Grace?" His voice was choked with concern. "What happened? Are you feeling worse?"
She shook her head, her tears making it hard to form words. She was a whirlwind of pitiful, helpless emotions.
Her hand shook as she held out the plastic wand, and she heard Xavi groan as he fell to his knees in front of her. His voice was tortured. “Ah, sweetheart, please don’t tell me you’ve been tormenting yourself with this…”
Grace sniffled, trying in vain to pull herself back together, and his fingers brushed lightly against hers before pulling the wand from her grip.
She knew the exact moment his eyes scanned the small plastic stick, when he read the result.
Sensed it in his utter stillness.
His hand came up to cover his mouth as he looked from the test back to her face. "Grace, you’re… we’re…” He couldn't finish the sentence as his own emotions threatened to bubble over.
Grace nodded, choking on a sob as new tears spilled.
His as well as hers.
She could only manage a whimper when Xavier pulled her into his arms, cradling her against his chest.
Because the test still clutched in his hand showed two pink lines – pregnant.
Their most tormented dream come true.