Chapter 71 I Don't Know
Elena: POV
"And if you don't want him—" My voice dropped. Went cold. "If you can't love him no matter what—then we're done. I'll file for divorce tomorrow. I'll raise him myself."
The color drained from Julian's face. "You can't be serious—"
"I've never been more serious in my life."
"Elena, you're upset—"
"No shit I'm upset!" I laughed bitterly. "My husband just asked me to abort our baby!"
"I didn't say that—"
"You might as well have!" I turned away. Couldn't look at him anymore. "I heard you, Julian. Loud and clear."
Silence.
Then his footsteps. Coming closer.
"Don't." I held up a hand. Kept my back to him. "Just... don't."
"We need to wait for the results—"
"You wait." I walked toward the bedroom. "I already know what I'm going to do."
"Elena—"
"Unless you can tell me right now—" I stopped. Turned back. "Unless you can look me in the eye and promise that you'll love this baby no matter what the tests say—don't follow me."
He stood there. Frozen. Those blue eyes full of things I couldn't read.
But he didn't say the words.
He didn't promise.
"That's what I thought." I opened the bedroom door. "Goodbye, Julian."
"Wait—"
I closed the door in his face. Locked it.
Heard him on the other side. "Elena, please—"
"Go away."
"We can't just leave it like this—"
"Watch me."
I pressed my back against the door. Slid down to the floor. Wrapped my arms around my knees.
And finally—FINALLY—let myself break.
The sobs came in waves. Great heaving things that shook my whole body. I pressed my fist to my mouth. Tried to muffle the sound.
Didn't want him to hear. Didn't want him to know.
On the other side of the door, I heard movement. A soft thud like he'd sat down too.
"I'm sorry." His voice was muffled. "Elena, I'm so sorry."
I didn't answer.
"I just... I'm scared." Another pause. "I've never been this scared."
My chest tightened. But I didn't open the door.
"When I was ten," he continued quietly, "I was kidnapped. Did I ever tell you that?"
He hadn't. But I'd heard rumors. Whispers in the servants' quarters.
"They held me for three days." His voice was soft now. Raw. "In this dark room. No food. No water. Just... waiting. Not knowing if I would die."
I closed my eyes.
"And when they finally found me—when the police came—I realized something." He took a shaky breath. "I realized how fragile everything is. How quickly it can all fall apart."
A pause.
"That's what I think about," he said. "When I think about this baby. I think about all the ways I could fail. All the ways I could lose—"
He stopped. Cleared his throat.
"I'm not asking you to abort." The words came out rushed. "I need you to know that. I'm just... I'm terrified of not being enough."
My hand went to my stomach. Felt the slight swell there.
"But you're right," he continued. "I shouldn't have asked that question. Shouldn't have made you think—" Another pause. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."
I wanted to open the door. Wanted to fall into his arms and pretend everything was okay.
But I couldn't.
Because sorry wasn't enough.
"Elena?" His voice was softer now. "Talk to me. Please."
I pressed my forehead to my knees. "I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because—" My voice broke. "Because I don't trust you."
Silence.
"I don't trust that you won't change your mind," I whispered. "I don't trust that you'll love this baby if he's not perfect. I don't trust—" I swallowed hard. "I don't trust that you'll choose us. Over Victoria. Over your reputation. Over everything else."
"I will." His voice was fierce now. "Elena, I swear—"
"You can't promise that." I lifted my head. Stared at the door between us. "Nobody can."
"Then what do you want from me?"
"I want—" I stopped. What did I want?
I wanted him to love me. Really love me. Not just my body or my obedience or my willingness to be convenient.
I wanted him to look at our baby—our maybe-imperfect baby—and see something worth fighting for.
I wanted impossible things.
"I want you to mean it," I said finally. "When you say you want this family. I want you to actually mean it."
"I do—"
"Do you?" I stood up. Pressed my palm flat against the door. "Because five minutes ago, you were asking me to consider termination."
"I wasn't—" He exhaled roughly. "I was trying to be responsible. To think about all the angles—"
"There's only one angle that matters." My voice hardened. "Do you want this baby or not?"
"It's not that simple—"
"YES, IT IS!" I slammed my hand against the door. "It's the simplest goddamn question in the world! Do. You. Want. This. Baby?"
Silence.
I counted my heartbeats. One. Two. Three.
"I don't know," he said finally.
The honesty gutted me.
I'd expected lies. Expected him to say what I wanted to hear.
But he told the truth.
And somehow that was worse.
"Okay." My voice came out hollow. "Okay."
"Elena—"
"I think we need space." I turned away from the door. Walked toward the bed. "I think you need to leave."
"What? No—"
"Just for tonight." I sat down. Stared at my hands. "I need to think. And you need to... figure out what you want."
"I'll leave." A long pause. "You're right. I need to figure out what kind of father I want to be. What kind of man." His voice dropped to barely a whisper. "I'm sorry I don't have the answer you need right now."