Whatever is causing her to cry so bitterly will surely be forgotten soon.
I unlock the door and guide her through the short hallway into the living area, where she takes a seat with her head hanging low on one of the two chairs at the bistro table.
She sits there, where the evening sun's rays reach her, but even they fail to make her shine. On the contrary, it seems as if all the brightness is immediately absorbed by her despair. What should I do?
I've never been good at this sort of thing, and I’m still not.
Uncertainly, I kneel before her and push the strand of hair that clings to her wet cheek away. "Tell me, Aurora. Together, we'll figure this out," I say hesitantly.
Was that the right thing to say?
She keeps her eyes lowered. "I..." she begins with a choked voice but immediately breaks off.
She obviously can't bring herself to say it, so I just gently stroke her cheek. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." Maybe that would be better. It would certainly be easier, at least.
Her lips tremble. "No, I have to."
I know I should be there for her, but I'm becoming so restless inside that I can hardly think clearly. I place my hands on her thighs. "Has Sky found out about us?"
Just voicing the question fills me with utter horror. That would be the worst possible scenario in our current situation.
Another sob takes hold of her.
So it's true. Sky knows.
Merde.
"We'll talk to her, explain the situation, and ask her to keep it a secret. She'll understand, and..." I start, trying to find a solution.
Suddenly, she raises her head and looks at me for the first time with her red, tear-filled eyes. "I'm pregnant."
I'm stunned.
The world stops spinning in an instant. Even the dust particles dancing in the light of the setting sun come to a standstill.
I should say something.
I should, right?
But my mind is blank.
There's nothing. No thoughts. No emotions.
Just a shock wave spreading through me, dominating everything, even the air I breathe.
Thick tears escape from Aurora's eyes before she lowers her gaze again. "I'm so sorry. Truly, Maxime, I..."
No. Don't cry. Please don't.
My chest tightens. "You don't have to apologize," I say, hoping it's the right response.
Her shaking head tells me she sees it differently.
I nestle against her, wrapping my arms around her hips and rest my head against her stomach.
My God, inside there, a baby is growing.
A little human, made from both of us.
