I clench my fists in my lap. The leather of my gloves creaks. I tell myself it doesn’t matter, that the past is done.
But the truth is that itdoesmatter. It eats at me. I built a bonfire of fury on the idea that she betrayed me, and I shoved her in it every chance I got. And all this time, I’ve been standing amidst burning lies of my own.
“Mrs. Gubarev?”
Sima rises slowly when the nurse calls her name, one hand on her belly.
I stand, too. She doesn’t look at me, but I follow anyway.
Inside the exam room, the air smells like disinfectant and cheap soap. I stand by the wall, arms crossed, eyes locked on every movement.
“Good morning,” the doctor greets, pulling on a pair of gloves. “I’m Dr. Agar. Let’s see how the little one is doing, shall we?”
Sima climbs onto the table with the nurse’s help. She lies back, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Her jaw is set. I can read the tension in her shoulders even before the doctor begins.
“This won’t take long,” Dr. Agar assures her. “Cold gel first. Sorry about that.”
Sima flinches when it touches her skin. I move a step forward before I can stop myself, then draw back.
The wand glides over her stomach. The machine hums, and then the sound fills the room.
A steady beat. Fast. Strong.
“Heartbeat looks excellent,” the doctor observes. “Nice and steady.”
My breath snags in my lungs. I can’t move. On the monitor, the shape flickers into view.
My child.
“There the baby is,” the doctor continues. She adjusts the angle of the probe. “Growth is right on schedule. Everything looks healthy.”
I grip the edge of the counter. My fingers bite into the surface. The air feels too thin. I can’t take my eyes off the screen.
Without thinking, my hand reaches for Sima’s.
Sima stiffens at first. God knows she’s got every right to. I lied to her, locked her up, then forced her to go through with this appointment just to prove to me she was telling the truth.
But then…
… slowly…
… she laces her fingers with mine.
I look down at her. Her eyes are glassy, rimmed with tears that haven’t fallen yet. She looks exhausted, angry, but beneath it all is something I can’t ignore: love for the life inside her.
It’s the one thing we’ll always agree on.
The doctor clears her throat. “Would you like to know the sex?”
“Yes,” I answer before Sima can.
Sima’s lips curl downwards. Maybe she was hoping I’d changed my mind. That I’d trust her.
But I need to know for myself.
The doctor adjusts the probe again and points to the screen. “There. You see? That’s your daughter.”
I exhale hard.My daughter.No more doubts.
