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CHAPTER FIVE
The paper beneath me is similar to the tissue paper you stuff into bags to give as presents, it’s also the loudest sound in the small, sterile exam room.
I’m sitting on the edge, legs dangling, wrapped in a stiff, faded floral gown that opens in the front, and I’m feeling more than exposed.
Add in the scent of antiseptic mixed with lavender, and it’s doing absolutely nothing to soothe my hyper-sensitive afternoon stomach.
The reality of it all is sinking in. Across the room, Alex is leaning against the counter, fingers flying across the screen.
The sharp rhythmic clicking on the glass breaks the tense silence.
When my friend lets out a soft, dark scoff, her jaw nearly going slack jaw at a notification, I bite my lip.
“Who’s texting you?” I ask, shifting on the table, the ungodly paper crinkling under my thighs.
“Is everything okay at the office? Do you need to go?” My voice goes tight; an anxious lead weight sits in the pit of my stomach.
Alex doesn’t look up immediately. She finishes typing out another reply, locks her phone with a definitive click, and raises her eyes to meet mine.
“A certain brooding billionaire.” A wry, knowing smile touches the corner of her lips, though her gaze is laced with a mix of amusement and protectiveness. “Who also happens to be your baby daddy.” She slips her phone into her blazer pocket.
“Oh god.” I feel the blood instantly rush from my face, my body goes numb, and I instinctively clamp my hands around the edge of the table, my knuckles turning white with the grip.
“He... he doesn’t know, does he? Alex, tell me you didn’t say anything.
” My voice drops into a panicked whisper.
I look at the closed door of the exam room as if he might burst through it.
“Relax, Romy. Take a breath,” Alex tries to soothe me instantly, stepping away from the counter and walking over to the side of the table.
The minute she places her hand over mine, the trembling slowly leaves my body.
“I didn’t say a word. You think I’d have survived this long as his executive assistant if I couldn’t keep a secret? He has absolutely no idea.”
“Then why is he texting you now, of all times?” I let out a shaky, jagged breath. My relief is short-lived, that’s for sure.
“He saw us,” Alex explains with a bluntness.
“He didn’t see where we went. And because he’s spent the last few weeks driving the entire upper management team insane with his temper, he’s looking for a target.
” She gives a dry, humorless laugh. “He sent a text demanding a meeting in his office tomorrow morning at 8AM sharp.”
“Oh god, Alex. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you into this. If he fires you or if he pushes you until you have to tell him—” I feel a tear prick at the corner of my eye. So much for the panic leaving the station. Nope, it returns, tenfold, heavy and suffocating.
“Hey, look at me,” she interrupts my tirade, her voice dropping into a fierce, unyielding tone that cuts through my spiraling thoughts. “He is not going to fire me, and he sure as hell isn’t going to break me. Don’t worry about him. Tomorrow morning, I’ll handle it.”
“How? He’s relentless when he wants an answer.” I blink back the tears. That’s probably what stings the most about when I ended things. He didn’t question me; he didn’t say a single word.
“I’ll just tell him you got a massive job offer,” Alex says with a shrug as if she were planning a routine corporate strategy with lunch on the side instead of spinning a massive lie to one of the most powerful men in the city.
“Besides, I’ll tell him you’re moving cross country to New York, or I can even say Los Angeles.
I mean, come on, it would work. You’ve been busy packing and cutting ties so you can start over.
It’ll give him a reason for your radio silence, not that you should answer the massive jerk, and it’ll make him leave you be until you decide what you want. ”
Alex pauses, and her expression softens as I look at her with what I’m sure is sheer terror in my eyes.
She squeezes my hand again, gently, before her voice turns serious.
“It’ll buy you time, Romy. Which by the way, brings up another conversation we need to have.
You can’t hide in your apartment forever, and you can’t run from him indefinitely.
He’s going to find out eventually. But for now, tomorrow is my problem.
Today, focus on you and that little peanut you’re carrying. ”
Before I can respond or process the weight of Alex’s words, a soft knock sounds on the heavy door. The handle turns, and Dr. Charles walks in. She’s a warm, middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a gentle demeanor that calms my rapidly rising blood pressure.
“Hi, Romy,” Dr. Charles greets me, glancing briefly at Alex with a polite nod before pulling the rolling stool toward her.
She’s carrying a tablet under her arm and offers a reassuring smile.
“I see we have some support with us today, which is wonderful. How have you been feeling since your confirmation appointment?”
“Nauseous,” I reply, a faint, embarrassed smile crossing my lips. I didn’t even say hello back or introduce Alex to her. “In the afternoons, it hits right around two o’clock like clockwork.”
“Ah, the morning sickness that isn’t morning sickness.
” Dr. Charles chuckles, tapping a few notes in her table.
“Perfectly normal though incredibly frustrating. We can talk about some remedies for that before you leave today. But first, let’s see how you’re doing.
We’re going to do a transvaginal ultrasound today since it’s still early in your first trimester.
It’ll help us get a clear picture and check on development. Are you ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” I swallow hard and nod.
The next few minutes are a blur of clinical preparation.
I lie back on the table, placing my feet into the cold metal stirrups.
The experience for this type of ultrasound is undeniably awkward—the heavy plastic wand, the condom wrapper, the cold lubricated gel, and the obscene angle of it all make me want to shrink into the fabric of my gown.
I keep my eyes glued to the ceiling, my breath catching in my throat as I try to not overthink the process.
“Alright, Romy. You’re going to feel a little bit of pressure,” Dr. Charles murmurs, her eyes fixed on the large gray monitor beside the bed.
“Try to relax your muscles for me.” I nod, and just when I don’t think it’s possible to calm down, Dr. Charles flicks a switch on the machine and the monitor comes to life.
No longer is it a dark static, now, it’s a deep, grainy black-and-white image.
The doctor adjusts the probe slightly, zooming in on a tiny, peanut-shaped shadow nestled safely inside my body and is now visible on the screen.
“There we go,” Dr. Charles says softly, her voice filled with a genuine warmth that makes my heart stop.
“There’s your baby, Romy. And right there, that tiny, dancing pixel in the middle?
” I lean forward, forgetting the position I’m in, and my eyes go wide as I stare at the screen.
A tiny, rhythmic pulsing light is blinging against the gray background. So small yet so undeniable there.
“Oh, wow,” I say and then suddenly, Dr. Charles presses another button, and the room is instantly filled with a sound that shatters every ounce of my remaining defense.
Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump.
The beat is fast, incredibly loud, and perfectly steady.
A beautiful gallop that echoes against the walls.
The sound of my child’s heartbeat, a perfect, strong life growing inside me.
A gasp tears out of my throat, and before I can stop them, hot, heavy tears spill over my lashes, streaming down my cheeks in a relentless wave.
I press a quivering hand over my mouth, a sob hitching in my chest. The sheer overwhelming awe of the moment completely wipes away everything: the fear, the isolation, and the nausea.
I look at Alex, who’s still standing by the counter, and to my surprise, her eyes are bright with unshed tears, a soft smile on her face as she listens to the same steady tempo I am.
“The heart rate is one hundred and fifty beats per minutes. Perfectly healthy. Strong and exactly where it needs to be for eight weeks,” Dr. Charles announces, her eyes crinkling with a smile.
I can’t take my eyes off the monitor, too much in awe of the profound, breathtaking wonder.
The tiny, flickering light is half me and half Vik.
A physical manifestation of a love that feels too heavy to carry, yet hearing the heartbeat, I know I’ll carry it to the ends of the earth.
I wipe my wet cheeks with the back of my hand, keeping my gaze locked on the screen.
Tomorrow, I can be terrified, and while I’m still plagued with worry about the future, listening to my unborn child’s fierce heartbeat, I know I’m no longer just surviving.
I’m going to be a mother and I’m going to be strong enough for whatever comes next.