But I can’t bring myself to do it.
The silence between us is already suffocating, and I know that if I call him, if I seek him out, I’m admitting that I need him.
I’m afraid of what that means.
I think back to that night—his touch, his voice, the way he looked at me, like I belonged to him. Like I was his and he had a claim on me that I didn’t understand but couldn’t deny.
And now?
With the pregnancy… I can’t shake the thought. With the baby growing inside me, I kind of do belong to him.
A knot forms in my stomach, the realization settling in like a cold, heavy weight. I’m tied to him in a way I can’t escape. This isn’t just about him anymore. It’s about something bigger. Something I’m not ready for, but it’s happening.
I push the thought away, but it sticks to me like a shadow.
He never asked for this. He never asked for me. He didn’t even want me in his life.
And I don’t know what to do with that.
I shake my head, the dizziness of it all spinning me in circles.
I can’t keep doing this, this back-and-forth between wanting to reach out to him and wanting to run away.
There’s a knock on the door, and I freeze. I’ve been avoiding everyone lately—trying to keep my head straight, trying to deal with the mess I’ve found myself in—but now, the sound is pulling me back into the reality I’ve been running from.
I walk to the sink and splash cold water on my face, trying to shake off the fatigue, the dizziness, but it lingers. My reflection stares back at me, tired, uncertain.
I don’t want to deal with anyone right now.
I hurry to the front door, peeking through the peephole, and my stomach tightens when I see who it is.
Jason.
I frown, not sure what to feel. Since everything started to spiral out of control with Lukin, since the art event, Jason and I have been talking more. A lot more. He’s been texting me every day, calling occasionally, and—against my better judgment—I’ve allowed it.
I’ve let him in, little by little. But that doesn’t mean he has the right to show up at my door.
He knocks again, a little more urgently this time. I sigh, not wanting to deal with this, but I unlock the door and open it with a frown.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, my tone more frustrated than I mean it to be.
“I’ve been texting you for days, and you didn’t respond,” Jason says, his voice concerned, his expression almost guilty. “I was so worried.”
I roll my eyes, irritated by his dramatics. I can’t help it. “Jason, you’re being dramatic.”
He gives me a sheepish smile, clearly not getting the hint that I’m not in the mood. But he steps forward anyway, a bouquet of flowers in his hand.
“Here, for you,” he says, extending them toward me.
I don’t have the energy to argue, so I take them, forcing a smile as I thank him. “Thanks.” I step aside. “Come in.”
I head into the kitchen to put the flowers in a vase while Jason makes himself comfortable in my living room. As I fill the vase and place it on the kitchen counter, my thoughts wander again. I can’t help but wonder if Jason can tell.
Can he tell I’m pregnant?
I haven’t even processed it all, but from what I can feel, from what I’ve been tracking, I should be about two months pregnant. My breath catches in my throat as I think about it—two months.
Damn.
