Are We Happy?
The ultrasound room was softly lit, the only sound the gentle hum of the machine and the rapid, steady whoosh of the baby’s heartbeat filling the space.
Emery lay on the examination table, her blouse lifted just enough to expose the small, gentle curve of her belly, now thirteen weeks along. The doctor moved the wand slowly over her skin, spreading the cool gel as the black-and-white image appeared on the screen.
Jesse sat in the chair beside her, hands clasped tightly in his lap, eyes fixed on the monitor. He hadn’t said much during the drive or the wait. Now, as the doctor pointed out the tiny form, his breath caught.
“Everything looks excellent,” the doctor said warmly, smiling at the screen.
“The baby is measuring right on track for thirteen weeks. Heart rate is strong... one hundred and fifty beats per minute. All the major organs are developing beautifully. Spine is straight, limbs are proportionate. No red flags at all. You’re doing a wonderful job, Mrs. Prescott. ”
Emery’s stormy eyes stayed glued to the monitor, a small, fragile smile touching her lips despite everything. She whispered, almost to herself, “Thirteen weeks…”
The doctor continued, pointing with the cursor. “Here’s the head… perfect profile. And look... the little hands are moving. See that? Active and healthy.”
Jesse leaned forward slightly, completely transfixed.
The tiny, flickering image on the screen was real.
Their baby. His baby. The overwhelming urge to reach out and place his hand on Emery’s small bump hit him like a wave.
.. to feel the warmth of her skin, to be part of this moment the way a father should.
His fingers twitched in his lap, but he forced them still.
He didn’t have the right.
Emery noticed his tension from the corner of her eye but said nothing. She kept her expression neutral, though her hand instinctively rested on the side of her belly, fingers brushing the faint curve.
The doctor wiped the gel away and printed a few images. “We’ll schedule the next scan in a few weeks. Keep taking your prenatals, stay hydrated, and rest when you need to. Any questions?”
Emery shook her head. “No. Thank you.”
As they left the room and walked down the quiet hospital corridor, Jesse finally spoke, voice low and rough with emotion.
“The baby… looked strong.”
Emery nodded once, eyes forward. “Yes.”
He swallowed, fighting the ache in his chest. “I wanted to… reach out. To feel…” He stopped himself, jaw tightening. “Never mind.”
Emery didn’t respond. She kept walking, one hand lightly resting on her bump, the other holding the reports.
The silence between them was heavy, filled with everything neither of them could say out loud.
Jesse walked beside her, hands shoved deep in his pockets, heart breaking a little more with every step.
Thirteen weeks.
Their child was real.
And he still couldn’t claim either of them.
×××××××
The ice cream truck was parked under the shade of a large oak tree near the hospital parking lot. Jesse had pulled over the moment Emery quietly said she wanted one, even though they were supposed to head straight home. He didn’t argue. He never did when it came to her cravings lately.
Emery ordered a blueberry cone, the vibrant purple color matching the soft light of the late afternoon. Jesse chose a simple vanilla. They stood a few feet apart on the grass, eating in silence at first, the sweet coldness a small mercy after the heavy day.
Jesse watched her quietly. The way the sunlight caught in her hair, the gentle curve of her belly now visible under her loose blouse at thirteen weeks, the soft, absent smile that touched her lips when she licked the melting ice cream. She looked peaceful for once... tired, but peaceful.
“You look beautiful,” he said softly, unable to hold the words back.
Emery stopped mid-lick, her stormy eyes lifting to meet his. “What?”
Jesse’s gaze dropped to the small, unmistakable bump beneath her clothes. His voice was low, almost reverent.
“Pregnancy looks beautiful on you.”
Emery stared at him for a long moment, then shook her head and took another slow lick of her blueberry ice cream, the purple staining her lips slightly.
“Your words aren’t going to soften me, Jesse.”
He nodded, accepting it without protest, eyes still gentle. “I’m here. I’m not going to force you to let me in. I’ll just… be here. For whatever you need. For the baby. For you.”
Emery nodded absentmindedly, focusing on her cone as if it required all her concentration. The silence between them wasn’t entirely uncomfortable this time... it felt almost fragile, like a thin layer of glass that could shatter with one wrong breath.
Jesse took a bite of his vanilla and asked quietly, “What do you think it’s going to be?”
Emery glanced at him again, surprised by the gentleness in his tone. “I have no idea.”
“What about you?” she asked after a pause, almost against her will.
Jesse smiled... small, genuine, and heartbreakingly soft. “Doesn’t matter if it’s a boy or a girl. It’s going to be so loved.”
Emery nodded, licking another stripe of blueberry. For a moment, the tension eased just a fraction.
They continued eating in companionable quiet, standing side by side under the tree.
A young couple walked past them on the sidewalk, the woman cradling a newborn wrapped in a soft blue blanket against her chest. The father walked beside her, one arm around her waist, the other gently supporting the baby’s head.
The newborn made a tiny, contented sound, and the mother laughed softly, pressing a kiss to the infant’s forehead.
Jesse’s gaze followed them instinctively. Something raw and aching crossed his face as he watched the little family... the easy intimacy, the quiet joy, the way the father looked at both his wife and child with pure, unguarded love.
Emery noticed too. Her hand unconsciously moved to rest on her own bump, fingers tracing a slow circle.
For a brief second, her eyes softened with a mix of longing and sadness. She imagined what it could have been like if things had been different, if Jesse had been brave enough, if this baby could have been welcomed openly instead of hidden behind lies and forced marriages.
Jesse cleared his throat, voice thick. “They look happy.”
Emery didn’t answer right away. She watched the couple disappear around the corner, the newborn’s tiny hand waving in the air.
“Yeah,” she whispered finally. “They do.”
She finished the last of her blueberry ice cream, wiped her fingers on a napkin, and turned toward the car without another word.
Jesse followed a step behind, the tender moment lingering between them like a fragile thread... not enough to mend what was broken, but enough to remind them both of what they had lost… and what might still be possible, if only the world would let them.
×××××××
Jesse entered the house first, holding the door open for Emery out of habit. She followed quietly, still carrying the small folder from the hospital. The moment they stepped into the living room, Jesse stopped dead in his tracks.
Francesca lounged on the black leather couch like she already owned the place, legs crossed elegantly, a glass of wine in her hand.
The moment she saw Jesse, her face lit up with a predatory grin. She stood gracefully and walked straight to him, placing a possessive hand flat on his chest, fingers splaying over his shirt.
“There you are, my handsome,” she purred, voice dripping with sweetness. “I’ve been waiting for you. Your mom said you took the replacement to the hospital.”
Her eyes flicked to Emery for a brief, dismissive second before returning to Jesse.
Jesse’s jaw tightened. “Why are you here, Francesca?”
“I’m here for our date, Jesse,” she said cheerily, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Did you not see your mom’s message? She texted you to take me out once you were done with this replacement.”
“Stop calling her that,” Jesse gritted through his teeth, stepping back so her hand fell away.
“Or what?” Francesca arched a perfectly shaped brow, unfazed.
She stepped closer again, voice dropping into something sharper, more threatening.
“Listen to me, Jesse Prescott. Your family made a business alliance with mine. We saved your ass last summer when you fucked up that project. Now it’s time for payback.
So you’re going to be a good future husband and take me on a date. Tonight.”
Emery’s chest ached sharply at the words, at the casual way Francesca touched Jesse, at the reminder that the man who once belonged to her was now being claimed by someone else. She clenched her fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms.
“Excuse me,” she said quietly, voice tight but controlled.
She turned and headed for the stairs without waiting for a response.
Jesse fought the overwhelming urge to reach out and grab her wrist, to pull her back, to tell her none of this was what he wanted. Instead, he forced himself to stay rooted.
“Francesca, I’m not going on a date with you,” he said, voice low and dangerous.
“Too late, handsome,” she replied with a bright, victorious smile. “We’re getting engaged next month.”
Emery stopped abruptly on the third step, her hand tightening on the railing. The words hit her like ice water.
“I am not getting engaged to anyone,” Jesse gritted out, his entire body rigid with fury.
“Really?” Francesca tilted her head, her tone turning cold and businesslike. “Think about it, Jesse. You lose your position at the company. The Co-CEO? Poof. Gone. Your mother already made the arrangements. The board is aligned. All you have to do is play nice.”
Jesse clenched his jaw so hard it ached. “So be it. But I’m not marrying you or taking you out.”
He walked past her without another glance, shoulders tense, and headed straight for his room. The door shut behind him with a firm click.
Emery remained frozen on the stairs for a few seconds longer, the echo of Francesca’s words ringing in her ears. Then she continued upstairs, her steps heavy, the ache in her chest deepening with every breath.
Down in the living room, Francesca simply smiled, picked up her wine again, and took a slow, satisfied sip.
She had time.
And she always got what she wanted.
×××××××