Chapter 48 Baby, Am I Pregnant?
Snowflakes tapped against the window like tiny ghosts seeking entrance. I sat wrapped in a cashmere blanket by the floor-to-ceiling window of my apartment, watching the city lights blur beneath a thin layer of white.
A fucking smile. I'm spending Christmas alone because of a fucking smile.
The phone vibrated in my hand, startling me. Ethan's name flashed on the screen. I took a deep breath, letting it ring three times before answering.
"You're not going to repeat what you just said?" His voice was unnervingly calm, which scared me more than if he'd been yelling.
"I only said," I struggled to keep my voice steady, "that if you're tired of this relationship, we should break up."
"Based on what?"
"Based on your attitude tonight." I stood up and walked toward the kitchen, needing to move, to do something with the nervous energy coursing through my body. "You didn't speak to me all evening because I smiled at someone. If you don't have that minimal level of trust, what are we even doing together?"
A low laugh came through the phone. "Liv, you're testing my limits."
I gripped the counter, trying to steady myself. The cold marble beneath my fingers anchored me to reality. His words were soft but carried an unmistakable threat.
"You can come back or not," I suddenly shifted my tone, making my voice softer, letting it tremble slightly. "If you don't, I really won't wait for you anymore."
I heard his breathing grow heavier on the other end.
"Go to sleep. Don't wait up." His voice was deliberately cold, distant.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, my racing heart slowing slightly. But I couldn't let him have the last word—not tonight. "Ethan, are you... seeing someone else?"
A short laugh erupted from the phone, followed by an uncomfortable silence. When he finally spoke, his voice cut like a blade. "Who taught you this trick? Accusing me first before I can accuse you?"
I froze, unable to tell if he was genuinely angry or just playing along. I'd tried to act jealous to please him, but I couldn't tell if I'd hit a nerve or if he was seeing through my performance.
"It's Christmas Eve," I hesitated before continuing my approach, softening my voice to sound hurt and vulnerable. "You're not with me, and you're being mean to me."
I'd intended to fake cry, but as I continued, real emotions surfaced. Before I knew it, real tears were streaming down my face.
"Liv," Ethan's voice suddenly softened, "stop crying. I'm coming back."
But I couldn't stop now. The dam had broken, and I sobbed harder, my whole body shaking.
"Olivia," his voice turned stern again, "stop crying right now."
His command only made me cry harder, a small act of defiance mixed with genuine pain.
I heard him sigh, followed by a few seconds of silence. When he spoke again, his tone had transformed, carrying a rare vulnerability I'd never heard before.
"Do you remember the first time we met? Your eighteenth birthday party. You were standing among the flowers, on the phone, crying silently."
My sobs quieted as surprise cut through my grief. I hadn't expected him to bring this up.
"That night," Ethan continued, his voice deep and magnetic, "when I saw you crying, it tore me apart. But then I watched you smile at them, and it felt even worse somehow. It was like my emotions and body weren't under my control anymore."
His voice carried an almost heartbreaking possessiveness. "After that night, I couldn't sleep. Your face was all I could see. I imagined your smile, imagined those eyes looking only at me."
My crying had stopped completely, my hand gripping the phone tightly.
"Baby girl, don't cry anymore. I'm coming back to you right now," he said, his voice dangerously gentle.
After hanging up, I went to the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes were red and swollen, my makeup slightly smudged. I didn't completely remove it, just gently wiped away the tear tracks, leaving my eyes with a hint of redness—a silent accusation.
I returned to the living room window, continuing to watch the snowfall. To maintain that heartbroken feeling, I opened my phone and found some tear-jerking video clips to watch.
Time ticked by as I calculated how long it would take Ethan to drive from Oakwood Estate to my apartment. When I heard the familiar engine sound in the parking lot below, I quickly wiped away my tears, but deliberately left traces of sadness on my face. I returned to the sofa, pulled the blanket around me, and pretended to still be quietly sobbing.
The door lock turned—he hadn't knocked, just used his spare key. Ethan didn't even take off his coat; he strode directly to the sofa, saw me huddled in the corner with swollen eyes and tear-stained cheeks, and pulled me into his arms. One hand encircled my waist while the other gently stroked my hair.
"Don't touch me," I protested weakly, making no real effort to escape.
Ethan ignored my words, lowering his head to kiss the corner of my eye, his tongue gently licking away the remaining tears. "Baby, I'm sorry," he apologized, his voice uncharacteristically low. "I shouldn't have reacted that way."
I had cried for too long and could barely produce more tears. My throat felt raw, and a wave of nausea hit me when I caught the smell of smoke and alcohol on him. My stomach churned, and I turned my head away, gagging slightly.
Ethan looked alarmed and immediately started rubbing my back.
I pressed down the sick feeling, covered my mouth, and looked at him. My eyes, still clear and dark despite the redness, darted nervously as I asked with feigned fear: "Ethan, am I... am I pregnant?"
Ethan froze.
I hadn't meant to imply anything serious—just an excuse to mask my disgust at the smell. But once the words left my mouth, I terrified myself.
Ethan's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, panic flashing across his face. He licked his suddenly dry lips and patted my back gently. "Don't worry, it's not possible."
I kicked his chest lightly. "What do you mean, not possible? You didn't use protection that time in the car."
Ethan took my hands in his, looking at me with intense eyes. "Liv, don't be scared. We'll check first, and if it's true..."
Before he could finish, I hurriedly cut him off: "If it's true, I'll definitely get rid of it."