I have to choose
1248 Words
The waiting room reeked of antiseptic and stale paper. Claire sat stiffly in a corner chair, her back rigid, her hands clutching an envelope that now bore the imprints of her anxiously wringing fingers. Around her, joy lived in quiet murmurs expectant mothers leaning on their partners, hands intertwined, eyes glowing with anticipation. One couple giggled as they watched an older woman knit tiny blue socks.
Claire’s gaze flicked to the empty seat beside her.
Still empty.
Still cold.
Lucas had promised he’d be there. Even if he had said that coldly , that he wouldn’t miss it. But she knew everything about her doesn't mattered to him.
But when it was time to prove it, he hadn’t come.
Her phone sat silent in her purse. No message. No excuse. Nothing.
The door opened with a soft creak. A nurse stepped out, her eyes scanning the clipboard in her hands. “Claire?”
Claire stood, brushing invisible dust from her dress. The envelope nearly slipped from her lap. She caught it before it fell.
“This way, please,” the nurse said with a practiced smile.
The hallway was quiet. The lights above buzzed faintly. Claire’s heels clicked against the linoleum, an eerie rhythm to the storm of thoughts in her head. When she reached the dimly lit examination room, she hesitated at the threshold.
It felt colder than it should.
Inside, the technician waited. A woman with gentle eyes and a voice like warm honey. “Hi there, Claire. Let’s get you comfortable.”
Claire lay back on the cushioned bed, the paper crinkling beneath her. The gel on her belly was cold, but not as cold as the emptiness in her chest.
“You’re about nine weeks along,” the technician said kindly, adjusting the machine. “We’ll do an ultrasound and check on baby’s heartbeat.”
Claire managed a tight nod.
The screen lit up, bathing the room in pale blue light. Shadows danced across the monitor until there.
A flutter.
A tiny, bean-sized miracle.
Claire's breath caught in her throat.
And then came the sound.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
The heartbeat. Steady. Strong. Alive.
Tears welled in her eyes and spilled over without a sound. They weren’t sobs. Just a gentle cascade of everything she had held in—fear, hope, heartbreak.
“There’s your baby,” the technician whispered with a smile. “Perfect heartbeat. Everything looks healthy.”
Claire couldn’t speak. She could barely breathe. The sight, the sound, the truth it wrapped around her like a promise and a knife all at once.
She reached out to the screen with trembling fingers, as if she could touch the life growing inside her.
You’re real.
You’re mine.
But the space beside her remained empty.
Lucas should’ve been here. To see. To hear. To feel this.
Instead, he had chosen someone else.
Meanwhile…
Lucas stood in the middle of a sleek boutique on Fifth Avenue, surrounded by glass displays and glittering cases of luxury. Maya twirled in front of a mirror, holding a rose-gold bracelet against her wrist.
“Too simple?” she asked, her smile radiant.
He watched her through a haze. Her reflection gleamed. Her perfume hung sweetly in the air.
“It’s perfect,” he murmured, barely paying attention.
Maya beamed and fastened the bracelet. “It feels like a dream being back here—with you.”
He forced a smile, but there was a weight pressing down on him. An ache behind his eyes that wasn’t just from exhaustion.
“Are you okay?” she asked, concern creasing her brow.
“Just a headache.” The lie left his mouth easily.
She reached up and brushed his cheek with her thumb. “You work too hard, Lucas. You always did.”
His phone buzzed on the counter. He ignored it the first time.
But when it buzzed again, he picked it up.
Claire: Had the appointment. Baby is healthy. Heartbeat strong.
No emojis. No emotion. Just a statement.
But that silence screamed louder than any accusation.
He didn’t reply.
Couldn’t.
He slipped the phone back into his pocket, his chest tightening in ways he didn’t want to name.
That evening...
The apartment was dim, painted in golden twilight. Claire entered quietly, her hands still wrapped around the envelope. She moved through the space like a ghost, removing her shoes, setting down her bag, folding her cardigan over the armrest.
She didn’t cry.
Not yet.
She walked into the bedroom and pulled her journal from the drawer. Inside, she carefully tucked the ultrasound photo. A secret. A treasure.
Her fingers lingered on the page.
“I’ll do this,” she whispered, voice raw and determined. “With or without him.”
She didn’t want pity.
She wanted peace.
A vibration buzzed across the dresser.
Her heart clenched.
Lucas.
She walked into the living room slowly, already dreading what came next.
He stood near the fireplace, his coat still on, his face unreadable. The coldness in his eyes wasn’t new, but it cut deeper tonight.
Claire opened her mouth, but Lucas beat her to it.
“Did you go?”
His voice was flat. No hint of curiosity or concern.
“Yes,” she answered, keeping her tone even. “Everything’s fine. The baby—”
“I got the message,” he said shortly, removing his gloves.
She stood still. Waiting.
But he didn’t ask about the photo. Didn’t ask how she felt.
Instead, he turned toward her, his jaw tightening.
“Maya’s coming to stay here. For a while.”
Claire blinked. The words didn’t register at first.
“I’m sorry—what?”
“You heard me,” he said coolly.
Her fingers curled at her sides. “You want her to stay here? In our apartment?”
He shrugged. “She’s important to me.”
Her voice trembled, rage and pain finally spilling over. “And what am I? The woman carrying your child?”
Lucas didn’t waver. Didn’t blink.
“She’s coming. So you better start getting used to it.”
Claire’s breath hitched.
“Lucas, this isn’t fair,” she said, fighting to keep her voice from breaking. “I’ve done nothing but try to make this work.”
He took a step closer. “You don’t get to play the victim, Claire. Not when she needs me.”
Her eyes glistened. “And what about what I need? What about this baby?”
“You’ll survive,” he said coldly.
Then, he leaned in slightly, his words like venom.
“No—better yet. Get ready to act like a slave, Claire. Because Maya’s coming soon.”
The air left her lungs.
Her chest burned as if he’d stabbed her, twisted the knife, and watched her bleed.
A thousand responses raced through her mind. Pleas. Screams. Rage.
But she said nothing.
Not a word.
Her silence was her shield.
Lucas turned away and walked down the hallway as if nothing had happened.
Claire stood alone in the room, her fists clenched so tightly her nails dug into her palms.
But she didn’t cry.
She didn’t scream.
She simply turned back toward the bedroom.
Her legs moved on their own, her heart echoing with the memory of that heartbeat—soft, real, pure.
She placed a hand over her belly.
“You and me,” she whispered. “We’ll survive this.”
But inside, something shattered.
Something that may never be whole again.
To be continued...
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