The drive to the doctor’s appointment was tense. Louis barely said a word, his hands gripping the steering wheel as he focused on the road. I sat beside him, wringing my hands in my lap, my heart pounding with a mixture of hope and fear. Today was supposed to be the day—the day I would tell him about the baby. I had convinced myself that maybe, just maybe, this news would change everything.
He’ll see that I’m not useless. He’ll know that we have a future, that I can give him a family.
The words replayed in my head like a mantra, as if saying them enough would make them true. I stared out the window, watching the city pass by in a blur, my mind racing with how I would break the news. I had imagined the moment over and over—Louis’ face lighting up with surprise and joy, his hand resting protectively on my belly, the way it should be.
But instead of joy, there was silence. A suffocating silence that had become all too familiar between us. My stomach twisted, the knot of anxiety tightening with every passing second. I glanced over at him, wondering if he felt the weight of everything between us. I was about to speak, to say something, when his phone rang.