The rest of the appointment passed in a blur. Dr. Beaumont printed out ultrasound pictures, prescribed prenatal vitamins, gave instructions about rest and nutrition, and what to avoid. I nodded along, trying to absorb the information, but my mind was still stuck on that tiny flicker on the screen.
Heartbeat.
My baby had a heartbeat.
“I’ll see you in two weeks for a follow-up,” Dr. Beaumont said as we stood to leave. “In the meantime, take it easy. No heavy lifting. Plenty of rest. And call me if you have any concerns—bleeding, severe cramping, anything that doesn’t feel right.”
“Okay,” I said. “Thank you.”
Dr. Beaumont smiled. “You’re doing great, Truth. Keep it up.”
We didn’t speak until we were in the parking lot.
Amai unlocked the car but didn’t open the door. Just stood there, keys in hand, staring at nothing. I stopped next to him. The ultrasound pictures were clutched in my hand like a lifeline.
“This is real,” I said quietly.
He looked at me. “Yeah.”
“I’m carrying your baby.”
“Yeah.”
The word hung between us, heavy with everything we weren’t saying. Everything we couldn’t say. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
“What do we do now?” I asked.
Amai stepped closer, his eyes locked on mine. “Now we make sure you and the baby stay safe. That’s the only thing that matters.”
“The contract?—”
“Fuck the contract.” His voice was firm, final. “This stopped being about a contract a long time ago if we’re being honest. You need something, you call me. You’re scared, you call me. You’re hungry at three AM, you call me. Understood?”
I stared at him. At the intensity in his eyes, the set of his jaw, the way he was looking at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.
“Understood,” I whispered.
“Good.”
He opened the car door for me, and I climbed in. The drive back to Mama’s house was quiet, but it was a different kind of quiet than before. Comfortable. Settled. Like something between us had shifted and locked into place.
Mama was on the porch when we pulled up, exactly where I’d left her. She stood as Amai parked, her eyes sharp and assessing as we got out of the car.
Amai walked me to the door. Mama’s gaze tracked every step.
“She okay?” Mama asked.
“She’s pregnant,” Amai said.
Mama’s face broke into a smile—wide and genuine and full of relief. “Well, all right then.”
She pulled me into a hug, squeezing tight. I buried my face in her shoulder and let myself feel it—the joy, the fear, the overwhelming weight of what had just happened.
When Mama finally let go, Amai was watching us with something soft in his eyes. Something that looked almost like longing.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said to me.
“Okay.”
