New Weight To Carry

New Weight To Carry
We were still trying to settle in after our trip back from the safe house. This was a month and I was still recovering from my injuries, my throat was still sore and bruised but it was better than before. And Alyssa was back in school being heavily escorted there.
Things were almost back to normal as I tried my best not to think of the past. 
I stood over the sink in the bathroom, staring at the half-eaten toast I'd just thrown up. My fingers gripped the edge of the marble counter like it was the only thing keeping me anchored. The nausea came in waves, sharp, relentless, and more vicious than the stress of exams or late-night dinners with family ever caused.
I had dismissed the first few episodes as stress. Trauma, even.
But now, I wasn’t so sure.
“What's going on?” I whispered absentmindedly to myself.
I splashed cold water on my face, eyes flicking toward the mirror. My skin looked pale, clammy as my hands trembled slightly.

Everywhere was silent and for a moment I just closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. The air smelled faintly of lavender and the faintest trace of Marco’s cologne lingering in the bathroom.
I didn’t have time to spiral. I had a meeting to attend and it was very important. Makeup helped a lot to cover my bruises and the weather was a little windy, so my shawl wasn't out of place.
I wiped my mouth, reapplied lip balm, and headed out, steeling myself for my advocacy group meeting on campus.

It was during the last fifteen minutes of the meeting that my vision began to blur.
The room spun slightly as her classmate Mena passed me a petition clipboard. The words blurred on the page, and I blinked hard, swallowing back the rising wave of dizziness.
“Sofia?” Mena’s voice cut through the air.
“I just need a sec” I mumbled, reaching for my water bottle.
I didn’t get the chance. My knees buckled.
Gasps rang out as chairs scraped back. Someone caught me before I hit the floor.

I woke to the smell of antiseptic and the steady hum of medical machinery.
The nurse beside me gave a tight, kind smile. “Easy now. You fainted. We ran a few tests.”
My mind was still disoriented. 
“I fainted?”
“Yes you did.” 
A doctor walked in, a woman with curly gray-streaked hair and warm, intelligent eyes. Her badge read Dr. E. Laura.
Dr. Laura sat gently on the edge of the bed. “Sofia. You’re going to be fine. But there’s something you should know.”
Sofia blinked. “What is it?”
“I think I should take my leave now.” The nurse announced leaving the room. 
“You’re pregnant.”
The words hit like a slap. Every thought vanished, like someone had pulled the rug out from under my brain.

“I can’t be. I mean, I haven’t,” my voice faltered. But a memory made me pause. Something had happened between Marco and I after our return home.
 My mind raced to that night when I had shared Marco's bed.
“Damn.” I cursed silently at my stupidity.
Dr. Laura softened.
 “It happens, Sofia. Especially under stress. You’re still early, give or take. That lines up?”
I could barely breathe. “You can’t tell anyone. Please. No one.”
“Your records are private here. I won’t break confidentiality unless your health’s at risk. But you should make an appointment soon. You need a proper scan.”
I nodded, heart slamming against my ribs.
“I’ll be fine,” I whispered, lying.
No I wouldn't. I hoped that I would be able to sort this out. Because getting pregnant in my first year of marriage hadn't been my plan. 

The ride home blurred by. The familiar gates of the De Santis estate felt more suffocating than secure.
I walked in quietly, my bag pressed tightly to my chest. My mind was still trying to comprehend the news that had been dropped on me at the hospital.
Marco was in the den, hunched over the fireplace with a half-finished glass of whiskey. He looked up immediately, eyes scanning my face like a searchlight.
“You’re late,” he said, setting the glass down. “Your school called. Said you fainted. You didn’t answer your phone.”
“I’m fine.” I walked past him toward the stairs.
“Sofia.”
I stopped.
“You’re pale. Distant. Talk to me.”

I turned slowly. Her eyes were unreadable. “I’m just tired.”
Marco rose. His tone shifted, softer. “Is it something else? Did something happen?”
The answer lodged in my  throat. I couldn’t say it. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
“I said I’m tired, Marco. That’s all.”
He didn't stop me this time. Just watched as I walked up the stairs, each step heavier than the last.
Inside my room, I locked the door and leaned against it, placing a hand gently over my abdomen.
I was carrying the child of a man I hadn’t even meant to fall for. A man wrapped in violence, secrets, and war.
But more terrifying than that…
I didn’t know what I wanted anymore.