The Queen's Gambit

The Ice Breaker

The days that followed the doctor’s revelation were nothing short of terrible. Isadora locked herself in her apartment, cutting herself off from the world, including Vivienne, her ever-loyal best friend. She spent her days sitting by the window, staring blankly at the sky, lost in the storm of her emotions. Everything felt like too much—her company teetering on the edge of ruin, her shattered relationship with Max, and now the pregnancy. She was pregnant, carrying the child of the man who had humiliated and abandoned her.

For days, Isadora refused to speak. She wouldn’t answer her phone, wouldn’t respond to Vivienne’s texts or calls, and didn’t even open the door when she knocked. But Vivienne wasn’t one to give up easily. One way or another, she always found a way in. One evening, after a few failed attempts, Vivienne managed to charm the building superintendent into letting her into the apartment.

Vivienne stepped inside and found Isadora curled up on the couch, a blanket wrapped tightly around her, eyes glazed over in a deep, vacant stare. The apartment was dark, save for the dim light filtering in through the window. The sight of her friend so completely broken nearly brought Vivienne to tears, but she swallowed the lump in her throat and put on a brave face.

“Isa,” she said softly, kneeling beside the couch. “You can’t keep doing this. You need to eat, take your vitamins, take care of yourself. Please, Isa.”

For a long moment, Isadora didn’t respond. She just stared ahead, unblinking. But Vivienne was persistent. She sat there for hours, coaxing, pleading, and reminding her of the baby growing inside her. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Isadora nodded—a small, almost imperceptible motion—but it was something.

From that moment on, Vivienne took charge. She brought healthy meals, sat beside Isadora as she took her prenatal vitamins, and tried to keep the apartment in some semblance of order. Isadora listened but remained stoic, contributing nothing to their conversations. She was like a ghost in her own home, going through the motions but not really living.

Vivienne’s worry grew with each passing day. She was so close to calling Isadora’s father—the only family she had left. But the thought terrified her. Isadora’s father was different and Vivienne knew exactly how he would react if he found out that Max had left his daughter pregnant and alone. She could already picture the explosion of anger, the storm he would bring down on Max’s head, and the toll it would take on Isa’s father. Vivienne wasn’t sure Isadora could handle that kind of stress, not in her fragile state.

Luckily, before Vivienne had to make that dreaded call, help arrived in the form of Lysandra. Vivienne and Isadora’s other close friend had been away on a photoshoot, busy with a destination wedding that had kept her off the grid. When she finally returned, Vivienne filled her in on the breakup, and the spiral Isadora had fallen into.

Lysandra, ever the dramatic force of nature, burst through the door with her usual whirlwind energy. “Alright, ladies!” she declared, her voice loud enough to wake the dead. “We are getting out of this apartment and going to drink our sorrows away! I’m buying!”

Vivienne immediately shook her head. “Lys, no. We’re not going out drinking. Isa’s been through enough, and drinking doesn’t help.”

Lysandra, never one to back down from an argument, folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, no? Isa just got dumped by that sorry excuse for a man, and now she’s holed up in this apartment like a ghost. What she needs is to get out, let loose, and forget about Max for a night!”

“We’re not drinking away our problems.” Vivienne insisted, her voice firm. “That’s not going to help.”

“Oh, come on, Vi!” Lysandra groaned dramatically, throwing her hands in the air. “A little fun never hurt anyone. Max is a jerk, and the best way to forget him is to have some good old-fashioned debauchery. A couple of cocktails, a few bad decisions—it’s the perfect solution!”

Isadora, who had been silently listening to their banter, suddenly blurted out, “I can’t drink. I’m pregnant.”

Both Vivienne and Lysandra froze. The words hung in the air like an unexpected thunderclap. Lysandra blinked, taking a moment to process what Isadora had just said.

“You… what?” Lysandra stammered.

“Pregnant.” Isadora repeated, her voice flat. “I can’t drink alcohol. It’s bad for the baby.”

For a few seconds, Lysandra said nothing. Then, in true Lysandra fashion, she shifted gears at lightning speed. Her eyes widened in realization, and without skipping a beat, she exclaimed, “Oh my God! Isa! You’re pregnant? With that i***t’s baby? Oh, hell no!” She launched into a tirade, pacing the room and throwing her hands up in indignation. “Max Drakos, you absolute trash can of a human being! You leave my girl pregnant and alone? What kind of soulless creature are you? Ugh, I could strangle him!”

Vivienne watched in astonishment as Lysandra ranted, her words laced with anger and colourful curses directed at Max. But beneath all the theatrics, there was a deep sense of care and protectiveness in her voice, and to Vivienne’s surprise, a faint smile tugged at the corners of Isadora’s lips.

Lysandra noticed the tiny change immediately. “Wait, wait, wait,” she said, narrowing her eyes at Isadora. “Was that a smile I just saw? Oh, we’re making progress!” She threw her hands up triumphantly, rushing to sit beside Isadora on the couch. “Alright, if we can’t drink, then we’ll do the next best thing—ice cream. We’re going to drown our sorrows in sugar. I’ll even order the “expensive” stuff.”

Before Vivienne could protest, Lysandra was already on her phone, scrolling through delivery apps. “We’re talking pints of ice cream. No, scratch that. Gallons. Flavours you’ve never even heard of. And while we wait, we’re putting on the saddest, most depressing movies we can find.”

“Wait, why do we want sad movies?” Vivienne asked, bewildered.

“Because,” Lysandra said with a smirk, “sometimes you just need to cry it all out. And nothing says ‘let’s cry’ like a cheesy romantic tragedy. Trust me, it’ll be cathartic.”

Vivienne raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. If Lysandra’s antics were bringing even the smallest flicker of life back into Isadora, she wasn’t going to interfere.

Half an hour later, the three of them were seated on the couch, surrounded by tubs of ice cream and boxes of tissues, watching a tearjerker that had them all sniffling within minutes.

Isadora, who had barely spoken for days, found herself letting out soft sobs as the movie played. She clutched a pillow to her chest, her tears mingling with laughter as Lysandra made overly dramatic comments about the characters.

“Why do they always fall in love with the ones they can’t have?” Lysandra moaned through a mouthful of ice cream. “Seriously, girl, look at yourself! You’re a ten, and he’s maybe a six on a good day. Move on!”

Isadora let out a weak chuckle, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “You’re ridiculous, Lys.”

“Ridiculous but effective!” Lysandra crowed, her face lighting up at the sound of Isadora’s laughter. “And don’t worry, I’ll be here every step of the way. We’re going to get through this, Isa. You’ve got us, and we’re not going anywhere.”

Vivienne watched the scene with a mixture of relief and hope. For the first time since the breakup, she saw a glimmer of the old Isadora—the strong, vibrant woman who had built her company from the ground up. It wasn’t a full recovery, not by any means, but it was a start.

As the night wore on, the three friends leaned into each other, laughing, crying, and eating way too much ice cream. And in that moment, it didn’t matter that their lives were messy, that they were facing heartbreak and uncertainty.

They had each other. And for now, that was enough.