Not now, not ever.
Charlotte
It’s ridiculous that a little white stick can feel like a bomb ticking in my hand.
I grip it anyway, knuckles pale, pulse fluttering. My stomach has been a warzone for days. Nausea rolling in waves, hunger snapping at the edges, fear and hope arm-wrestling inside me until I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.
I slip into the bathroom and close the door before I lose my courage. The latch clicks, loud in the silence. Vitali thinks I’m napping. He thinks I’m resting. He has tried to enforce that rule since the first night. But I couldn’t possibly sleep with the weight of this possibility pressing into my lungs.
I sit on the edge of the cold marble tub and stare at the box like it’s alive. Like it knows exactly how much power it holds over me.
If it’s negative, I’ll have to smile through the disappointment for his sake. If it’s positive… everything changes. Not just my body, not just my future, but my heart.
Because these last few weeks hasn’t just been insanely amazing sex. It’s felt like the beginning of something I have no business wanting.
I take the test with shaking hands, then place it face-down on the counter. I turn away from it like it’s a solar eclipse that might burn me if I look too soon.
I wash my hands, then dry them. Rituals to fill the time. The tiles blur as panic climbs higher in my throat. My breath stutters. I’m terrified. Completely, stupidly terrified. Because if this is real, I am already too attached. And the countdown to goodbye has already begun. Had already started before the ink was dry on the contract.
I push my hands through my hair and try to get a grip on my spiraling thoughts.
The handle to the door shifts.
I go absolutely still.
“Charlotte?” Vitali’s voicefilters through the door, low and controlled in a way that makes my knees threaten mutiny. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I call out in the highest-pitched lie I’ve ever told.
The lock clicks and the door opens, and there he is. Handsome, tall, composed, hair neat, shirt crisp, like the world always bends neatly around him. His gaze sweeps the room once and immediately finds the empty box in the trash, the white stick on the counter by the sink.
He takes one step inside. The tension follows him like a shadow.
“You should have told me.” His voice is soft steel.
I swallow. Hard. “I didn’t want to disappoint you if I’m not...”
His expression darkens as he takes my chin in his fingers and lifts my face. “You could never disappoint me.”
Heat stings behind my eyes. I blink it away.
He looks at the test on the counter, still flipped over. His jaw tightens. His shoulders lock. The air thickens between us until I can hardly breathe.
“Have you looked?” he asks.
“No.”
“We’ve been married for six weeks now,” he says. “That would be long enough to tell?”
I nod. My period was due two weeks ago, but it never came. I spent every nerve wracking day waiting for cramps. For bloating, for anything. Then I began to feel queasy all the time.
I figured once I’m pregnant, the sex will stop, the connection we share will simmer out and the marriage will become part of a business transaction. I’ll fade away from Vitali’s life until the baby arrives.
“I just wanted to hold onto what we had a little longer, but now I need to know.”
He frowns and exhales sharply, a sound like he’s been punched in the ribs, and steps closer. He cradles my face with one hand, guiding me to look at him instead of all the fear swirling inside my head.
“What are you afraid of?” he asks. When I don’t answer straight away he adds, “Charlotte.” His voice, my name, a vow and a warning. “Don’t hide from me.”
