CHAPTER 5 — The Consequence
1288 Words
~ Ava ~
For days, I’d been waking up feeling off, but I just chalked it up to the food. Or maybe stress. Or him. It was easier that way.
The headaches would come and go, mostly in the evenings when the apartment fell into silence. Sometimes, I’d find myself sitting on the couch, lights off, staring at the skyline — those sleek glass towers reflecting everything but me.
He had been gone a lot lately. Meetings. Dinners. Late nights that bled into early mornings. I didn’t ask about it. I had stopped asking anything at all.
The fridge was empty. That’s what finally got me out of bed.
I threw on a coat and made my way to the supermarket down the street — the one with the glaring lights and the cashier who always said, “Have a blessed night,” as if she really meant it.
It was late. The aisles were quiet. I moved slowly, pushing the cart without really focusing. Eggs. Bread. Tea. A bag of apples, bananas.
My head was still buzzing from the morning. The nausea hit me again after coffee — sharp, sudden, and embarrassing. I had to rush to the bathroom before I could throw up.
I kept telling myself it was fine. Just feeling worn out.
I strolled past the pharmacy aisle.
Rows of vitamins, cold meds, toothpaste. And there, at the end, pregnancy tests.
I stopped in my tracks, completely caught off guard.
It’s not like I was even considering that. I hadn’t given it a second thought. The idea felt ridiculous. Unthinkable, really.
Yet, there I was, staring at the box as if it had some kind of magnetic pull.
I reassured myself, You’re being dramatic. It’s nothing. You just need to rest.
But before I could fully process it, my hand reached out.
I grabbed one. Tucked it under the bread so no one would see.
I didn’t even know why I did it. Maybe to prove to myself that I was fine. Or perhaps because a little voice inside me was starting to doubt.
At the checkout, the cashier flashed a smile, scanning each item with care. Her pink nails were chipped at the tips. She didn’t even glance at the box hiding at the bottom of my pile.
When I got home, I unpacked the groceries, putting everything away like I always do. The test ended up in the cabinet under the sink, tucked behind the cleaning supplies.
And then, I just forgot about it.
At least for a little while.
---
That night, the nausea hit me again, but this time it was worse.
I barely made it to the bathroom in time. My body felt like it was rejecting everything — food, air, you name it. When I finally looked in the mirror, my reflection was pale and sweaty, like I’d just seen a ghost.
I sat on the cold tile floor for what felt like ages.
That’s when the box popped back into my mind.
I reached under the sink, pulled it out, and stared at it. The instructions blurred for a moment as my hands shook.
I didn’t even want to open it. I kept thinking, This is silly. You’re overreacting.
But I couldn’t stop myself.
I ripped the box open without hesitation.
Just one test inside. That was it.
“Two minutes,” it said.
I followed the steps. Then I waited.
Those were the longest two minutes of my life.
I found myself sitting on the floor, my back pressed against the wall, knees pulled up to my chest. The air was tinged with a light scent of soap and mint. Outside, the city buzzed with life—cars whizzing by, voices mingling, everything continuing as if nothing had shifted.
I kept telling myself it would turn out negative. That this was just stress, fatigue, or whatever excuse I could come up with.
I almost convinced myself.
But when I finally took a look, the world around me seemed to freeze.
Two pink lines.
I blinked once. Then again.
They were still there.
My throat constricted. I gripped the edge of the counter and leaned in closer, trying to wrap my head around it. But there they were—two bright, undeniable lines staring back at me.
Something deep inside me quieted down.
Not panic. Not relief. Just a profound stillness.
I found myself sitting on the bathroom floor for what felt like ages, staring at the test. Just two lines. That simple result was enough to turn my world upside down.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. We had been careful. Or at least, I thought we had been. Maybe it didn’t even matter. Things like this never really go according to plan.
We had an understanding. A marriage that existed only on paper. No feelings involved. No complications. He made it clear from the start, this was strictly business. A name. An image. Not a real marriage.
And I had come to terms with that. I convinced myself that I didn’t care. Most days, I even believed it.
But this... This was definitely not part of the deal.
I couldn’t help but think about how he would react if he found out. He wouldn’t raise his voice. He wouldn’t even flinch. He’d just look at me as if I’d made a mistake that needed fixing. He’d call someone, set something up, and make it all disappear.
And I couldn’t let that happen.
I wasn’t sure if I wanted this baby. I didn’t even know how I felt. But one thing was clear: I didn’t want him to have any say in it.
He never touched me out of love. Afterward, he barely acknowledged my presence. He just walked away, as if it meant nothing. And maybe, to him, it really didn’t. But now, I was left to face the consequences.
I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes. Everything felt so heavy. I wasn’t ready for this. I wasn’t even sure I ever would be.
But I just couldn’t bring myself to talk to him. Not like this.
He’d see it as a problem. A flaw in the plan. Something that needed to be fixed.
And maybe, if I’m honest with myself, I knew I couldn’t raise a child in this cold, lifeless place either.
Still, the idea of ending it made my heart race with anxiety.
I rested my hand on my stomach.
There wasn’t anything there yet, but it felt like there was.
In that moment, I made a decision.
There was a tiny being inside me —quiet, fragile, and completely mine.
A child I had to protect.
So I’d leave. Far away. Before my body started to change and he noticed.
That thought brought me a sense of peace. It gave me something to hold onto.
I’d book a ticket in two days. San Francisco. A place he wouldn’t think to look for me.
I’d pack light, just the essentials.
I’d move some money from our joint account to mine. Nothing too obvious, just small amounts over a few hours.
Enough to get by for a bit.
I’d order a new phone under a different name and have it delivered while he was at work.
Once it arrived, I’d wipe the old one clean. No traces left behind.
I went over the plan in my head again and again until it didn’t feel so far-fetched anymore.
Until it started to sound like a way to survive.
This wasn’t running away.
It was leaving before he could figure out what had happened to me or to the baby.
For the first time in ages, I felt like I had some control.
- Writer
