chapter2

At nine o’clock sharp, I stood in the registration line at the OB/GYN clinic. The smell of disinfectant churned my stomach. The seats around me were filled with pregnant women waiting for prenatal checkups, a soft halo of happiness on their faces. Without thinking, I set my hand over my lower belly, where there was still no sign of life.

“Next,” the nurse called, her voice mechanical.

Just as I was about to step forward, a familiar voice brushed my ear.

“Watch the step—take it slow.”

I snapped my head around and saw Elias carefully steadying Claire as she came out of the exam room.

Claire was holding a brand-new ultrasound print. Their arms were comfortably entwined.

“The doctor says the baby is very healthy,” Claire’s sweet voice floated over.

“That’s good,” Elias answered gently. “You need to rest more now.”

I froze where I stood, watching him brush a stray wisp from her forehead—a gesture that used to belong to me.

“Next! Aria Collins!” the nurse called louder, shooting me an impatient look.

Elias heard my name and looked up. Our eyes met in midair, and his expression went rigid.

“What are you doing here?” He let go of Claire and strode toward me.

Claire followed close behind, timidly clutching his sleeve. “Elias, let’s go… I don’t want any misunderstandings…”

I didn’t speak. I unfolded my payment slip and held it up so the words “termination of pregnancy” were unmistakable.

Elias’s face went iron gray. “What is this?” His voice was cold as ice.

“Exactly what it says,” I said evenly.

He stared at the slip; shock curdled into suspicion, then hardened into a cold sneer.

Just then Claire gave a feeble little moan and tipped backward.

Elias turned at once and caught her. Everyone in the corridor looked over. He lifted her into his arms, and before leaving, he glanced back at me—his eyes full of undisguised scorn and distrust.

He hurried Claire toward the elevators without once looking back. I stood there, watching the careful way he shielded her, and suddenly I understood.

I left the hospital quietly. By the time I reached the parking lot, icy rain had begun to fall. Sitting in the car, I opened my phone. Claire had just posted: “All good at today’s prenatal checkup. Thank you for keeping me company, darling. Sorry I scared you by fainting—low blood sugar!”

The photo showed Elias’s back as he carried her toward the elevator. The comments were full of blessings and concern.

I switched off my phone and started the engine. The wipers scraped across the windshield in a mechanical rhythm—like my heartbeat just then: steady and hollow.

Stopped at a red light, I caught sight of a mother-and-baby shop window. Inside were tiny clothes and toys. My palm traced my lower abdomen, where a child who should have had a whole family had once been.

When I got home, the rain was coming down harder.

I stood at the window, watching the city blur into the downpour. The home that had once felt warm now felt like an ice cellar.

My phone buzzed—Elias’s text: “Family dinner tomorrow. Be on time. Don’t make this hard on me.”

I stared at the message and suddenly understood everything. In his eyes, I was just a bit player expected to hit her marks. What he’d never know was that some plays, once the curtain falls, are never staged again.