Chapter 30 – Kenna-Past
Chapter Thirty
EXPECTING THE UNEXPECTED
KENNA-PAST
The past month has been a blur of sadness, confusion, and emotional exhaustion.
Cole went to prison, and suddenly I feel like everything in my life has been taken from me.
Nothing could have prepared me for how it would feel.
I thought I could stay strong, but every night the tears come, and sleep only comes after crying myself through it.
It’s as though I’m constantly on the edge of breaking, and each time I close my eyes, I feel a wave of grief crash over me.
I miss him so much. It’s not just the absence of his presence.
It’s the emptiness that fills the spaces where our future used to be.
He was my everything. And now, I don’t know what to do without him.
His voice, his touch, his laugh…it’s like they’re all fading.
But I can’t let go. I can’t move on. Not when he told me not to wait for him.
Not when he told me to let go, to move on.
But how? How can I move on when I feel so lost? When every part of me aches for him?
The days blur together now. I wake up and pretend. I smile at the right time. I say I’m “fine” when people ask. But inside, I’m screaming. Inside, I feel like I’m dissolving. Like I’m just smoke where a person used to be.
I overhear my parents talking. At the kitchen table, trying to pretend I’m fine, the conversation between my mom and dad comes through the crack of the door. I don’t mean to eavesdrop, but I hear enough to make my stomach drop.
“I know she loves him, and I knew this would be hard for her,” my dad says, his voice thick with worry. “But it’s impossible for me to see her like this. She’s not the same.”
My mom sighs, a sound full of helplessness. “I know. I think maybe…maybe we should take her to see someone. A doctor. Just to see if there’s something we can do. I don’t want her to be this way.”
My dad goes quiet for a second, and I can feel the weight of his gaze from the other side of the door. “Maybe you’re right. It wouldn’t hurt to get her help. I just…I want her to be okay. To have some hope of a future.”
Hope. That word hits me harder than I expected. I don’t know what hope even looks like anymore. I used to see it in Cole’s eyes. Now I just see loss.
I don’t give them the satisfaction of hearing me cry anymore. Instead, I feel the frustration bubbling inside me. They don’t understand. They don’t get it. How could they? How could anyone? They haven’t lost the person they love. They haven’t had their future ripped out from under them.
I push the door open with a loud snap, stepping into the room, my voice coming out sharp. “I’m not crazy,” I snap, my chest tight with frustration. “You think I’m broken, don’t you? That I’m just some sad girl who can’t handle her boyfriend going to prison?”
My parents both jump, startled. My mom’s eyes widen, and my dad looks as if someone slapped him. But I don’t care. I can’t hold it in anymore.
“I’m not fine,” I continue, with my words tumbling out in a rush.
“I miss Cole. He’s all I think about, and it’s killing me.
And yeah, I cry because he’s gone, and I don’t know how to deal with that.
But he told me not to wait for him! He told me to move on, but I don’t know how to do that!
So yeah, my life is a mess, because I don’t know who I am or what I’m supposed to do anymore. ”
My dad opens his mouth, probably to tell me to calm down, but I shoot him a look so sharp he just blinks and stays silent. I don’t want calm. I want understanding. I want someone to feel what I feel for just one second.
My mom opens her mouth to say something, but I’m already turning away. I don’t want to hear it. I just need them to understand how lost I feel.
The next day, I sit in a sterile doctor’s office, my palms sweating. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. I’ve never been the type of person who gets anxious about doctors. But today…today, everything feels different.
The room is too quiet, too still. My mom’s sitting beside me, her face soft with concern, but I can’t bring myself to say anything. I can’t even look at her. She keeps trying to reassure me, but nothing she says feels real.
“You okay?” she whispers for the third time.
Though I’m not, I nod my head. I’m not okay. I’m unraveling. And the worst part is, I don’t know if I want to be stitched back together. What would that even look like? Who would I be without the grief?
The nurse calls my name, and we head to the back. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, each step toward the exam room heavier than the last.
When we get inside, the doctor, a woman with short brown hair and glasses, smiles kindly at me. “We’re going to get through this, okay?” she says gently, guiding me to the exam table.
I nod, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.
“You’re here because we’re concerned about your mood, correct?” she asks, settling across from me.
I nod again, not trusting my voice. The silence stretches, thick and suffocating.
“Before we talk about medication,” she continues, “I need to ask you a few questions. Were you and Cole…were you intimate?”
My cheeks flush with heat, and I nod quickly. “Yes. We were always careful, and my period’s about to start.” I add, my voice barely above a whisper.
The doctor gives a small nod, like she’s considering something. “Just to rule out a pregnancy, we’ll run a quick test. We want to make sure it’s not affecting your mood, and if it is, we can address it properly.”
I’m stunned for a moment, but then I agree. It’s just a test. It’ll come back negative, right?
They hand me a stick to pee on, and I go through the motions. I’m used to tests—after all, they’ve been a part of my life for so long now. But this time is different. This time, it’s like my entire world hinges on the results.
When I hand the test back to the doctor, she looks up at me, her expression soft. “Sweetheart, it’s positive.”
I feel the world tilt, the ground beneath me spinning. I can’t breathe. My hands shake. It feels like everything just stopped.
“Do you want your mom in here with you?” the doctor asks, her voice gentle.
I nod, though I’m not sure what I want anymore.
When my mom comes back in, the doctor calmly tells her the news, and my mom’s face crumbles. She cries, and I can’t do anything but stare at her, numb, unable to process what’s happening.
She pulls me into her arms, and I don’t know what to feel. My heart swells with love, but it also feels like it’s being ripped apart.
On the car ride home, my mom is quiet, her hand resting gently on my knee. “Whatever you decide to do, Kenna, we’re here for you,” she says, her voice soft, but I can hear the worry behind her words. “You’re not alone in this.”
I can’t help myself. “What should I do, Mom?” I whisper. “I don’t know what’s right.”
She looks at me, her eyes searching mine. “It’s not for me to decide, honey. You need to do what feels right for you. Don’t let anyone else’s expectations make that decision for you.”
I nod, feeling tears burn behind my eyes. “But Mom…I feel like this baby is something special. Like it’s something I need.”
My mom’s voice is gentle, but steady. “You’re right. It’s an extra responsibility, but if you choose to keep the baby, it will be your new purpose. You’ll find a way. And I’ll be here every step of the way.”
That night, I lie in bed, my hand resting gently on my belly.
I think about the baby growing inside me.
Half Cole, half me, and I cry again. But this time, it’s different.
It’s not just sadness. There’s hope now.
There’s a chance for something new, something that will remind me of him in the best way possible.
I whisper to the dark, “You’re not here, Cole. But a part of you is. And I won’t let that part disappear.”
I know what I have to do. I’m keeping the baby.
The next morning, I wake up, and the smell of breakfast drifts in from the kitchen. My mom’s cooking, and my brothers, Reuben and Asher, are sitting at the table. I sit down next to Reuben, and he wraps his arm around me, pulling me close.
“You look better today,” he says softly, his voice full of warmth.
“I am better today,” I tell him, finally feeling like I might just be okay.
My mom looks at me, and I give her a small nod. It’s time. It’s time to share the news.
She calls a family meeting, and everyone gathers around the table. She starts by talking about how difficult this past month has been for me and how we all need to be there for each other. Reuben pulls me closer, and I lean into him.
My mom tells everyone that she took me to the doctor yesterday, and the doctor ran some tests. The room falls silent when she says the words: “Kenna’s pregnant.”
I can feel the weight of the silence, but then, surprisingly, I feel lighter. I take a deep breath and speak up.
“Since I found out I was pregnant, everything has shifted. I realize that there’s a tiny miracle inside me, half me, half Cole.
And when I went to bed last night, it was the first time I didn’t cry because I was sad.
I cried because I felt hope. Hope that I can give this baby a good life. That I can do right by it and Cole.”
I glance around the table, my eyes meeting each of their gazes. “I’m having this baby. And for the first time in a month, I feel like I have a purpose.”
The room is still, everyone processing the words I’ve just spoken.
I can feel their eyes on me, some soft with concern, others with something like curiosity.
But no one speaks right away. The silence stretches, and I can hear the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears.
It’s like I’m waiting for their judgment, waiting for the weight of their expectations to land on my shoulders.
Reuben is the first to move. He pulls me even closer into his side, his hand rubbing small circles on my back, like he’s trying to soothe away the nerves I didn’t even know I had. His arms feel strong around me, like a shield against everything else. I lean into him, seeking comfort in his warmth.
“Kenna, I…I’m so proud of you,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady. “I know it’s a lot. But if anyone can handle this, it’s you.”
His words make something inside me shift.
I don’t know if I believe him yet, but it feels good to hear.
I close my eyes for a moment, taking a shaky breath.
When I open them again, I see my mom’s face, her eyes filled with a mixture of tenderness and worry.
She looks so much like me. I don’t know how, but at this moment, I see her in a way I never have before.
She’s strong, but she’s also scared, and it makes me want to reach out and take her hand.
“We’re all here for you, honey,” my mom says softly, her voice steady, but there’s a flicker of emotion in her eyes that tells me she’s not as calm as she’s trying to appear. “This is going to be a big change, but you’re not alone in this.”
I nod slowly. The words sink in, but it still feels surreal. It doesn’t seem real that I’m about to bring a baby into the world. Cole’s baby. Would he have been happy? I hope so. I hope he knows that I still love him, a love I’m reminded of every day by the baby growing inside me.
“I just want you to know,” my mom continues, her voice breaking a little, “that I’m here for you no matter what you decide. I’ll help you with whatever you need. You’re my daughter, and I love you. This baby…it’s a part of you, and that means it’s a part of me too.”
I swallow hard, fighting back the tears that have been threatening to spill over all day. The weight of her love, her support, is so much heavier than I expected. I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear those words, how much I needed her to tell me it would be okay.
Asher, my older brother, leans forward, his expression soft but genuine. “I’m not sure what all this means, Kenna, but I’m here for you. I don’t really get it, but if you need anything. Anything at all, I’m in. You’ve always been there for me, and I’ll do the same for you.”
His words are simple, but they feel like a promise. I turn to him and give him a small smile, the first real one I’ve had in weeks. I don’t know how to explain it, but hearing my family’s support is like a balm to a wound I didn’t even know I had.
“Thanks, Asher,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.
My mom stands up then, walking over to the counter where she’s set up a pot of coffee. “I’ll give you guys some time to talk,” she says, her voice quiet but firm. “But when you’re ready, we’ll talk about what comes next. We’ll figure it out together.”
I nod, the weight of the decision still hanging heavily in the air. But for the first time in a long time, it doesn’t feel so impossible. My family is here, and even though I still don’t have all the answers, I know I’m not alone.
After a long moment, Reuben speaks again, his voice low and careful. “Kenna, do you know what’s about to happen in the next months??”
A pang settles deep inside me, heavy in my chest. I look at him, my brother, who’s always been there for me, even when I didn’t realize I needed him. Steadying myself, I take a deep breath. I don’t have all the answers yet, but I know one thing for sure.
“I’m going to keep my baby,” I say, my voice quiet but sure. “I don’t know exactly what’s coming, and I don’t know how I’m going to do this, but I feel like it’s right. I don’t want to go through this alone, but I believe this baby is extraordinary. And I can’t let go of that.”
Reuben nods, his expression softening as he squeezes my shoulder. “You’re going to be an amazing mom,” he says, his voice filled with sincerity.
I feel a flutter of warmth inside me, a spark of hope that I haven’t felt in weeks. It’s a tiny thing, but it’s enough. Enough to keep me going.
As my mom comes back to the table, she sits down beside me, and we all just sit together for a few moments. The weight of the decision is still there, but somehow, it’s easier to breathe now. There’s a little more light in the room, a little more warmth.
Eventually, my mom speaks up again. “I know it’s going to be hard, Kenna. But we’ll face it together. Every step of the way.”
I look around at my family, each of them with their own mix of emotions—concern, love, maybe a little fear.
But they’re all here. And for the first time in a long time, I feel like I can do this.
I don’t have all the answers, and I don’t know what’s going to happen next, but for now, I know that I’m not alone.
I’m going to keep this baby. I’m going to figure it out. And maybe I will be okay.