Claire sat on the edge of her bed, staring blankly at the pale morning light creeping through the blinds. The room was quiet—too quiet, with only the distant hum of the city to break the silence. She rubbed her temples, trying to ward off the strange heaviness in her chest.
Something felt off, but she couldn't put her finger on it.
Her body ached with exhaustion, but it wasn’t the kind that could be soothed by sleep. It was deeper, like something was pulling at her from the inside, gnawing away at her peace.
As she pushed herself out of bed, a wave of dizziness hit her. She stumbled to the bathroom, gripping the doorframe for support.
Her stomach churned violently. She barely made it to the toilet before her body expelled what little it had inside. The feeling was raw, a deep burning that left her feeling weak and cold. She pressed her forehead against the cool porcelain, trying to steady her breath.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, but the nausea didn’t subside. Her eyes stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, her skin pale, eyes hollow from sleeplessness.
What the hell is wrong with me? she thought, but the question had no answer.
For a few moments, she just stood there, her hands pressed against the cold sink, trying to gather her thoughts. But instead, the same image kept playing in her mind: Grayson. His face. His touch. The way he had once held her like she was everything, as if he could never let her go.
No. Not today.
She wasn’t going to think about him.
Not today.
But the thought clung to her, and when her eyes wandered down to her abdomen, a familiar feeling twisted inside her. A gnawing ache.
Get a grip, Claire.
After a few moments...
The sun had risen fully by now, casting a soft glow through the windows of the small apartment. But Claire hadn’t noticed. She sat at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a mug of lukewarm coffee, staring into the distance. Her thoughts were scattered, as if they couldn’t decide whether to linger in the past or focus on the present.
Her eyes flicked over to the small plastic test on the counter—still sitting there, untouched.
Her stomach flipped again, a tight, nauseous sensation that had become all too familiar over the past few days. She couldn't avoid it any longer.
Claire stood, legs unsteady, and walked to the counter. She picked up the test with shaky fingers, her breath catching as she read the result.
Two pink lines.
Her chest tightened, and her heart thudded painfully against her ribs.
Pregnant.
The word echoed in her mind, but it didn’t feel real. She dropped the test back onto the counter, her hand trembling. Her legs buckled, and she sank down onto the chair, burying her face in her hands.
How could this be happening? She had been so careful. She had told herself it was over, that she had moved on. But now, the result of one careless moment was staring back at her, forcing her to confront the truth she’d been avoiding.
Her breath came in shallow gasps as panic began to rise within her. She squeezed her eyes shut, as if blocking out the reality of the situation would somehow make it go away.
But it wouldn’t.
The one thing she hadn’t expected, the one thing she never thought would happen, had happened.
Pregnant.
The apartment felt smaller, more suffocating. Claire paced between rooms, trying to find something to hold onto—anything that would pull her out of the swirling chaos in her head. But nothing seemed to help.
She had tried to distract herself, tried to push the thoughts away, but the weight of it all kept crashing down on her, until it felt like she couldn’t breathe.
By evening, she was back in the bathroom. The fluorescent lights above buzzed softly, but they couldn’t cut through the fog clouding her mind. She found herself staring at her reflection in the mirror again, but this time, she didn’t recognize the woman staring back at her.
Her face was gaunt, her skin pale and drawn, the dark circles under her eyes deepening. She looked fragile, as if she might shatter at any moment.
With a shaky hand, Claire placed it on her abdomen. The reality of it settled in, cold and unyielding.
This wasn’t part of the plan.
Her heart thudded painfully in her chest. She had thought that leaving him behind would be enough—that she could move on, forget the ache he had carved into her. But now she was carrying a reminder of him.
A baby.
Her stomach churned again, not from sickness, but from the sudden surge of emotion that rose in her throat. She wasn’t ready for this. She wasn’t prepared for anything that came with it.
She should have left. She should have done everything differently. But she hadn’t.
The tears came then, the ones she had been holding back for so long. They slipped down her cheeks, hot and unwelcome, as if her body was betraying her.
She wiped her eyes angrily, not caring about the smudge of mascara staining her face. She didn’t care about anything. She just wanted to forget. To leave it all behind and move forward.
But the truth was, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t escape the past. She couldn’t erase the man who had taken everything from her.
She took a deep breath, wiped her face, and stood up straighter, as if willing herself to be strong.
She had to be strong for herself, and most especially for the baby.
Even if she had to face this alone.
Claire lets out a shaky breath, her fingers gently tracing the curve of her stomach, as though trying to feel the life inside her. She closes her eyes, trying to steady her emotions.
"I know this wasn’t part of the plan. But I’ll do better. I’ll be better for you. You won’t grow up in the same kind of chaos I did. You won’t feel alone... You’re going to be loved. I’ll make sure of that. No matter how hard this gets, we’ll be okay. I swear it. I’ll do whatever it takes, little one. I’ll fight for you."
Claire takes a deep breath, a single tear slipping down her cheek as she smiles softly, though it’s bittersweet...