Once Rejected, Now Desired

I have often heard that a person’s life can change in a single breath, a single step, or a single heartbeat. But I never imagined mine would unravel in less than twenty-six seconds It took me to walk from the private elevator to my husband’s office door. “-” I woke up that morning in high spirits, though I can’t explain, My phone beeped indicating an incoming text from the Greenier Pen hospital to come pick up my pregnant test result. Chill ran down my spine once again. Not sure if it was negative as usual, or positive this time, I went anyway. When I got to the hospital entrance. The smell of sanitizer welcomed me, which made my stomach churn. Soon I was at the doctor’s office. Hello, Mrs Ariana, the doctor greeted, his handsome face beaming. Hi, Doctor Frank, “I am here to pick up my test results”, I said with a shaky voice, as his gaze met mine. Sure, congratulations, Mrs Ariana, “you are 4 weeks pregnant”. He dropped the news like a weather forecast. My eyes blinked three times, I found myself smiling. Can these be real? Am I day-dreaming? No, it’s a reality, I whisper to myself. Thanks doctor, I said, almost dropping into tears of joy, I thanked him and left the hospital. I headed straight to Vincent’s office. ‘This is gonna be his best birthday ever, I said to myself’ as I tucked into my purse the small brown envelope, Hope was shaped like two red lines that promised a future. Hope fluttered anxiously against my ribs as I stepped out of the private elevator and onto the polished marble floors of Ben Vincent Towers. I pressed a hand to my stomach unconsciously. A baby, his baby. After years of trying. After nights spent alone in a king-sized bed, convincing myself that his absence was temporary, that work came first only because family wasn’t here yet. Now it was. Now we were. I smiled as I walked, ignoring the way the employees on the executive floor stared at me. I rarely visited Vincent’s office. I prefer not to interrupt his working hours. But today was too important. I imagined the moment again and again. Vincent lifted his head from whatever billion-dollar deal he was working on, his cold blue eyes softening, his lips parting in shock, then happiness washing over his features as I handed him the envelope. I imagined him pulling me close, whispering, “Ariana… we’re having a baby?” I imagined us laughing, crying, holding each other like we used to. But I imagined wrong. The first sign that something was off was the door. It wasn’t closed all the way, a thin sliver of space spilled warm light into the hallway. Vincent never left his office door cracked. Privacy was his religion. I hesitated, my smile faltering. Then I heard it. A sound. Low. Breathless. Soft. A woman’s moan. I froze. Maybe I misheard. Maybe it was the ventilation system, or a ringtone, or...... A second sound followed. A man’s groan. Deep. Rough. Familiar. My lungs squeezed painfully; the hallway tilted. My heart pounded so loudly I felt it in my throat, my wrists, my knees. My feet refused to move, but my hand—traitorous and trembling—reached for the door, anyway. “V-Vincent?” My voice barely existed. Another moan answered me. I pressed my palm flat against the cool wood, trying to breathe. The envelope in my purse felt suddenly heavier than a stone. My stomach curled. My vision blurred. Everything inside me screamed to walk away. But I pushed the door open. Just a little. Enough to shatter everything. I didn’t see faces at first, only limbs tangled on Vincent’s leather office couch, clothes half-discarded, the unmistakable rhythm of two bodies that should never have met like this. I stared as if my brain needed time to understand, as if it had to rearrange itself to process the terrifying sight before me. Then the woman shifted, lifting her head. And my world stopped. It was her. “Sonia?” I gasped. Sonia Harrison. My personal assistant. My shadow. My friend. The woman who brought me tea every morning, reminded me of my schedules, reminded me to eat when I forgot, listened to me cry on days Vincent didn’t come home. The woman I trusted. They continued with what they were doing as though they didn’t notice my presence. For a split second, guilt flickered across his face. Then, just as quickly, it vanished beneath that practiced billionaire calmness. Getting caught cheating in broad daylight was nothing. The look on Vincent’s face says “lf You like you can look the more” I felt as though I was going crazy. Fury, heartbreak, disbelief, all of it churned so violently I thought I might scream or collapse or both. Instead, I laughed. A sharp, broken sound. The kind of laugh that came out when pain cut too deep to bleed properly. I wiped my face, surprised to find tears I didn’t remember crying. I walked out of the office without altering a word as I managed to stagger towards the elevator, My skin burned. My heart felt as if someone had reached in and squeezed it. All I remembered was pain. Not the sharp, screaming kind. The slow kind. The kind that feels like claws scraping from the inside, tearing silently, By the time I made it back to the mansion, my legs were numb. The housekeepers stared at me when I entered, eyes widening at my smeared makeup and trembling lips, but I didn’t have the strength to speak. I walked past them like a ghost drifting through hallways, moving only because I needed to. I entered our room and locked the door behind me and let myself collapse onto the bed. My fingers curled into the sheets. I cried until my throat burned raw. I cried for the baby who deserved better. For the wife who wasn’t enough. For the marriage that died long before today. I didn’t know how long I lay there. Maybe hours. When I heard the soft click of the door being unlocked from the outside. Only one person had access to that key. I sat up slowly as the door opened. Vincent walked in. Still looking like the world should fall at his feet. For a moment, I hoped naively, stupidly that he might look guilty. That he might apologise. That he might show even one ounce of regret. But yet again I hoped wrong. His blue eyes were calm. Like I was just another meeting he needed to get through. “Ariana,” he said. “We need to talk.”