29. Chapter 29
A ria
A faint sense of detachment hung over Aria like a thin layer of fog shadowing her path ahead.
Her periods were notoriously irregular, so the GP had recommended an early ultrasound to help confirm her dates.
He was an affable man in his sixties with a fondness for bright, cartoonish ties.
Today's pick was Sonic the Hedgehog. At her booking appointment, he'd handed her over to the midwife with a warm smile and a chuckle about "Being old-school about handing over patients. "
The midwife in question was a harried woman with frizzy ginger hair that bounced with her every movement and an energy that was somehow both chaotic and cheerfully efficient.
She looked like she'd sprinted through half her morning appointments already, but still managed a grin as she handed Aria a stack of leaflets, a list of upcoming appointments, and a bottle of antenatal vitamins.
"You're a little anaemic," she said, scanning the screen rapidly. "Nothing worrying; we'll start you on iron. Side effects may include feeling like you've swallowed nails and the bowel movements of a cement mixer. Welcome to the fun bits."
And then, before Aria could even recover from that mental image, the midwife added with a laugh, "I've got three myself.
Honestly, the most peaceful times were when they were inside me.
Now, all they want is overpriced makeup, crop tops that barely qualify as fabric, and enough food to feed a rugby team. "
Aria blinked, caught between amusement and mild alarm, but the woman had already moved on, her hands flying over the keyboard, muttering about follow-up dates and scan forms.
Aria nodded, half-listening. She planned to read through everything properly when Lule came by for the weekend. It would be easier to make sense of it with her. She was in her last two weeks of her masters, and was due to start her new position full time after that.
Crispin hadn't appeared in person since that last conversation. But his presence lingered in soft, sporadic messages just before sleep.
I am thinking of you.
You are stuck in my head in a loop. Like a song.
Voice notes in his low, worn-out voice: "Did you think about me today?"
Another, almost sheepish: "Did you get the groceries? I wasn't sure what brand of olives you liked, so I got all three."
Aria loved olives, especially the black ones.
She hadn't asked for any of it, but things had started appearing by her door in the early mornings-expensive olives in glass jars, fresh vegetables still misted from refrigeration, proper cuts of meat, cartons of milk, and eggs arranged neatly in an insulated bag .
Sometimes he'd text: Are you eating? Don't skip lunch.
Once, simply: I miss your laugh."
He must have noticed things-her hollow cheeks, the way she held herself differently now, quieter, even more withdrawn than before.
He kept a rhythm, a thread connecting them just enough to make her unsure. She had asked for time. This wasn't time; this was a ghost haunting her inbox.
And Aria couldn't help but wonder with confusion, Why now?
Why hadn't he been like this before?
She still had a bit of money left in her rainy-day account and was grateful her job at the café continued without drama. Gallen remained distracted, but kind in his gruff way. It was a quiet mid-morning lull when it happened.
Aria had just bent to pick up a fallen spoon when a wave of heat swept over her. Her skin prickled and sweat broke out along her hairline. The clatter of crockery faded into a high, distant hum. For a moment, everything tilted-the floor, counter, light-and then she was down .
She came to on the long bench seat in the corner of the café, curled into the recovery position.
Her cheek was against the cold faux leather, and someone was speaking low and urgent.
"Aria. Hey...can you hear me?"She blinked up to see Jacob crouched beside her, one hand hovering as if afraid to touch.
His usually placid eyes were sharp with worry.
"I'm okay," she murmured, trying to sit up.
"Whoa, slow down. Just breathe for a minute." His voice was gentle but firm.
Liz appeared, arms crossed, but handed over a glass of water. "Drama queen," Liz muttered as she turned away. "Attention-seeking nonsense."
Aria winced, but Jacob didn't rise to it. He just stayed beside her, watching.
"What happened?" he asked again, softer now.
"I...skipped breakfast," Aria admitted, rubbing her temple.
That was when Gallen lumbered over and made a gruff noise of disapproval. "Sit. Eat. You're no use to me fainting all over the place."
She ended up back on the bench, a plate of eggs and toast in front of her. She managed the toast without bringing it all up. Jacob placed the water in her hands. His fingers brushed hers again, barely a touch .
The contrast hit her hard.
Touching Jacob felt like cardboard-neutral, forgettable.
Touching Crispin had felt like putting her finger in an electric socket.
Why is it , she thought bitterly, that the things you like best are never the ones that are good for you?
She still did evening work at the Lackenbys, cleaning the dark-wooded halls that whispered of another life.
That week's rent swallowed most of her savings.
The only warmth came in brown paper parcels left at her door-mild lamb tagine, olives stuffed with herbs, chewy baklava, all Albanian or Moroccan, always things she liked.
Khalid never admitted it, but she thought it was from him until another message from Crispin came through.
Did you like the Cevizli baklava? I know you like walnuts better than pistachios.
There were murmurs in the financial news, too-Du Valares' stock was slipping. A whisper of a takeover, some unrest. Aria didn't let herself wonder how Crispin must be feeling .
It had been two weeks. And yet, somehow, he was everywhere. In the stupid navy hoodie he'd left behind, in the faint smell of his cologne in the closet, in the ache in her breasts that made her want to scream. They were tender and swollen, like a betrayal of her own body.
The idiot thinks texting twice a day doesn't count as breaking the "give me time" rule?
She was nervously getting ready for her ultrasound when there was a knock at her door. She had drunk so much water that she had to throw up, only to have to drink it all over again. Her bladder was about to go nuclear.
It was Lule-windblown, breathless, grinning like she had a secret. "We're doing the ultrasound together," she announced. "Come on, woman. Get dressed. I booked an Uber."
Aria rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. "You're not letting me pee, are you?"
"Absolutely not. The baby wants to be seen. Anyway, Google says if you pee, you have to drink all that water all over again. Now, chop chop."
The ride was thankfully short and full of snark with the jolting at minimum.
Once there, Aria paced, trying to distract herself from a bladder that was about to blow. There had been an emergency ultrasound squeezed in before hers, and the delay meant she was seconds from wetting her pants .
"Are you sure it's Crispin's? He doesn't strike me as genetically capable of anything over four brain cells."
"Lule!"
"Fine, I take it back. You are the only good taste he has. That, and a fondness for tragic hair."
Aria groaned. "Stop."
But Lule was just warming up. "Seriously, he struts around like he's God's gift to emotional unavailability. All that brooding, all that cash...classic overcompensation."
Aria raised an eyebrow. "For what, exactly?"
Lule grinned wickedly. "Oh, come on. No man who dresses like a Milan runway model for a quick grocery run has a big dick. That's textbook. Perfect pocket squares? Micro-penis. That's textbook compensating. He probably apologises to his tailor when it gets cold."
"Stop making me laugh. I will literally pee on their floor."
"I'll hold your handbag, but I'm not explaining the puddle. "
The sonographer was a kind-faced woman with a no-nonsense tone, and Aria felt the first rush of relief.
"Lie back for me," the woman said, and an assistant laid down a paper sheet before helping slide Aria's jeans just below her hips.
The gel was cold. The probe pressed down, firm and low.
Aria winced. Don't pee. Don't pee. Don't pee.
The room went silent for a moment as the image shifted on the black-and-white screen.
"Would you like to hear the heartbeat?"
"Yes, please," Aria said quietly.
A rapid, fluttering rhythm filled the room as the sonographer turned a dial. Aria's eyes met Lule's, wide and shining.
Lule's eyes were suspiciously bright as she whispered, "Oh my days!"
The breath caught in her throat. This made it all real .
The sonographer smiled and printed a small image. "If you're alright with it, we'll do a transvaginal scan now to get a more accurate age."
Aria hesitated, then nodded.
She made it to the toilet in record time and emptied her bladder. Then she lay back again. The probe was uncomfortable with its slow internal movement paired with the sonographer's dictation, "Uterus anteverted... Crown-rump length... normally sited..."
"A little over nine weeks," the sonographer said with a smile. "You'll be offered an anomaly scan between eighteen and twenty weeks. The appointment will be in the post."
When they left the room in a daze, Aria held the scan photo like it might disappear. Lule took her hand as they silently walked to the exit.
Back home, Aria placed the printout on the fridge, fixing it there with a tiny magnet shaped like a croissant.
She stared at it for a long moment.
"My little jellybean," she whispered, touching the tiny dot on the shiny paper.
Then she went to bed, and for the first time in weeks, slept through the night.