Chapter 23
Elizabeth
I sit in the quiet that follows, my hand drifting back to my stomach.
It feels like I have changed. I don’t move.
Not at first. I sit upright, my skin still warm from his touch, though it no longer feels like comfort.
It feels like a fading echo of something that never truly belonged to me at all.
Something I have tricked myself into believing was mine.
The weight of what I have been carrying suddenly feels impossibly heavy.
I blink. Once. Twice. And then, finally, the tears come. Not in great dramatic sobs, but silent, steady drops that cling to my lashes and trail down my cheeks as if they’ve been waiting. The kind of tears that don’t scream. The kind that aches deep in my throat.
I pull my knees to my chest and hug them tight, resting my chin on top.
My body still tingles from what just happened between us.
How his hands gripped my waist. How his mouth had found every place that made me tremble.
How he knew my body with such precision.
How I’d held him, wrapped around him, poured my love into him, everything that I had kept locked inside into every kiss, every breath, every rise and fall of our bodies. I hate myself for letting it happen.
I think of his silence. His stillness. The way he didn’t touch me after I told him. Like the truth wiped away all the softness and love we created.
The sob that slips out is small but sharp.
Like a knife slicing the air. I press my fingers to my lips, trying to hold myself together, but grief keeps breaking through in waves.
Not just for myself, but for the little life growing inside of me, already learning the shape of love and absence in the same breath.
I don’t want him to stay because he feels like he must, but I had hoped, naively, foolishly, desperately, that maybe this time he would want to.
The wind rattles the window softly, a reminder that the world outside is still turning. A reminder that eventually, I will have to stand, clean up and put on a brave face again. And that strength will come, just not yet.
But I don’t have to be brave right now. For now, I stay on the floor, my face buried into my knees, heart breaking yet again.
When my tears finally run dry, I make my way to my bed and curl onto my side, the space beside me still cold and heartbreakingly empty.
The cottage smells of him again. My skin does too. I hate it.
Every time I stir, it feels like I’m in mourning.
My body grieving someone who no longer exists.
I am unsure whether I am grieving Theo, or the version of myself that I have lost from loving him.
At some point, Bear moves closer, resting his head on my thigh like the heaviness in the room is being felt by both of us.
In the morning, I lay still for a long time, trying to remember what day it is, if anything has changed overnight. Maybe I had dreamt it all? Maybe he hadn’t reacted that way when I told him.
But no. I am still pregnant. Theo is still gone. I’m still tired and lonely.
My body aches inside and out, and my head is pounding. I turn on the pillow and stare at the wall. For a while, that’s all I do.
I don’t know what will come next. But I know this; I can’t live my life waiting to be chosen by him. I have lied to myself enough. Now is the time for me to take back control.
This baby, this tiny life inside of me, is already mine, and maybe that is the beginning of something far more real than anything Theo has ever offered me.
I pull on my green sweater, yoga pants and trainers before slipping outside, Bear padding close behind. The cool morning air wraps around me, crisp and steady, as if it’s trying to shock me back to life. I breathe deeply, letting the scent and chill of the outdoors fill my lungs.
The beach is quiet this early, the tide just beginning to pull back, revealing glistening shells and smooth stones. I wander slowly along the shore, watching Bear chase after a seagull.
I settle on a piece of driftwood and pull out my notebook, letting my pen flow. No rules, no audience, just the quiet honesty of the ink on paper. Like I’m writing to the sea and the sky.
When I finally close the notebook, the sun is higher, warming my face. I stand and look out over the water, feeling the first real trace of hope settle into my chest.
I’m not finished writing my story, far from it. But for now, at least, I’m ready to start my next chapter.
James leaves his shift at the ward absolutely shattered. His night on the ward has been filled with code blues and emergency calls. Yet, he still comes searching for me.
He slows as he gets closer, then approaches quietly, not wanting to startle either of us.
“Morning,” he says gently, stopping a few feet away.
I look up, surprised but relieved.
“Hey,” I reply, tucking my notebook away. James smiles, a softness in his eyes that I wish Theo had yesterday.
“You alright?” he asks me softly. I can’t help my reaction. I almost wish he hadn’t asked. Tears start to fall again. I’m sick of crying over a man that won’t fight for me. Through my tears, I nod.
“Trying to be,” I manage.
He moves closer, sitting beside me. Together we watch the waves roll in, sharing the quiet without needing to fill it. For a moment, it feels like the world has paused, just the two of us.
James shifts his weight, looking out at the endless horizon.
“Elizabeth… I have to be honest. I am struggling to stop thinking like a doctor and just be your friend right now. You don’t look well.”
I don’t know what to say to him. Am I ok? I know I’m not. I have never felt pain like this. Fear courses through my body, fighting with the grief of saying goodbye to Theo. My mind can’t cope and all I want is for the pain to stop. Completely.
“Will you come back to my surgery so I can have someone check you over?” My heart swells at his concern. I gently place my hand on his leg.
“I’m ok, James, I’m just processing some things.
It’s been a difficult week,” I reply, taking a shaky breath.
“I’m scared. So scared. Scared of what’s coming next.
Scared of what I’ll have to face. Scared that I just said goodbye to the one person I love so dearly.
I’m not sure how I can carry on without him, James. ”
He turns to me, his eyes steady and kind, knowing exactly what I am insinuating.
“Whatever happens, you won’t face it alone. I’m here for you. You have me and the girls. Don’t give up, Elizabeth.”
My throat tightens, another small tear escaping.
“Thank you. That means more than you know.”
He offers me a small smile. “We can take it one day at a time.”
He rests his hand on my back, and I lay my head on his shoulder. The sun is low, casting a golden glow over the sand as James stays by my side. Neither of us rush to fill the silence this time. It’s comfortable, like a shared breath.
James glances at me, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “You know, you’re stronger than you think.”
I let out a small, bittersweet laugh. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just stubborn.”
He chuckles quietly. “That too.”
I lean back on my palms, the cool breeze brushing my face. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing the right thing, letting go of everything I thought I wanted.”
James’ gaze softens, understanding how deep my feelings are. “Life doesn’t always go the way we plan, but sometimes, the detours lead us exactly where we need to be.”
My eyes flicker towards him, searching, hoping that he’s right. James reaches out, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from my face. His touch is light but grounding, like an unspoken promise.
“You don’t have to pretend that everything is fine with me. It’s ok to be scared. It’s ok to be angry. Whatever you’re feeling, I’m here for it, all of it.”
My eyes glitter with unshed tears. “I’ve never felt this vulnerable before, this unsure about life. James, I’m not sure I want to be here anymore…”
He nods slowly, as if carefully dissecting every word. “I will be your safe place. No judgement, no pressure.”
A wave of sickness surges through me. I cup my hand over my mouth, and my eyes grow wide with fear. Panic that I’m about to throw up on him. James frowns. I quickly shake it off and hold my nose for the longest moment, trying to ride out the feeling.
“I need to go home and sleep. I’ve been on call all evening and it was a crazy shift, but can we continue this tonight? I’ll bring dinner with me. I’m not sure I want to leave you alone at the moment.”
I look at him and nod. “I’d like that,” I say quietly.
He gives me a sideways hug from where he is sitting, comforting but friendly, and then he heads home. I wait a while before setting off. I stand up from the log and slowly walk home, just a little steadier, a little more secure than I had felt that morning.
I find myself holding my stomach, gently stroking where my baby is growing as I walk.