Chapter 57 Pregnant With His Child

Chapter 57 Pregnant With His Child

I packed lightly at first—just the essentials, the bare minimum I could convince myself I needed to survive wherever I was being shipped off to. A few clothes, some documents, my worn-out notebook I couldn’t leave behind even if I tried. I told myself I’d get more things later, once I figured out where “later” even was supposed to be. The thought made my stomach twist, but I forced myself to keep moving.

I gathered a few things for my father too—clean shirts, a bottle of the cologne he liked even though the hospital smell always drowned it out, fresh socks, his reading glasses, the crossword book he pretended not to enjoy. I set them all in a neat little pile at the edge of the room, ready to carry them to the hospital before I… vanished.

God, even thinking about it made my chest tighten.

I had just finished folding the last shirt when a sharp pain stabbed through my stomach. It wasn’t gradual, it wasn’t gentle—it was the kind of pain that made me double over instantly, hands braced on the floor as a groan ripped out of me.

“What now?” I whispered to no one, breathing through my teeth.

I stayed that way for a moment, sprawled on the cold floor like someone who had completely given up on dignity. My hair fell all over my face, and I didn’t even bother to push it away.

Then my phone chimed.

The sound felt almost intrusive, slicing right through the fog in my head. I turned my face just enough to see the screen glowing against the floor. I reached out with shaky fingers and grabbed it.

A text.

From Kevin.

Meet me at the garden, we need to talk. I’ll be waiting.
—K.

My heart tightened instantly, painfully—like something inside me reached out toward him even while the rest of me was trying to pull back. I dragged my fingers through my hair, trying to breathe, but another wave of pain churned in my stomach.

“What is wrong with me?” I muttered, pressing a hand to my abdomen.

It didn’t feel like period cramps. It didn’t behave like period cramps. But the thought of my period made something click in the back of my mind, a soft but unmistakable jolt of realization.

Wait.

I paused.

Then the realization hit harder.

I’m late.

My heart began pounding so fast it felt violent. I scrambled—literally scrambled—off the floor and staggered toward my bed where I kept my tablet. I opened the app I used to track my period, hands trembling so badly I kept tapping the wrong things.

When the screen finally loaded, the truth glared at me.

Late. Not by a day or two. Late enough that it made sense. Late enough that excuses fell apart.

A cold wave washed through me, spreading from my chest down to my fingertips.

“No… no, no,” I whispered, shaking my head. “This can’t… no.”

The possibility lodged itself deep in my throat like poison—burning, metallic, impossible to swallow.

Pregnant?

Right now?

In the middle of this chaos?

In the middle of planning my disappearance?

In the middle of possibly losing Kevin?

It felt like a nightmare that refused to let me wake up.

My body moved before my mind even caught up. I rushed to my wardrobe, nearly ripping the doors open. I dug through boxes, pushing aside lotions, folded scarves, old receipts—my breathing growing more frantic as I searched.

There… there has to be… I had one… I think I still…

Then my fingers grazed the small cardboard box. A pregnancy test kit.

A leftover from months ago—one I kept just in case.

I grabbed it with trembling hands and ran straight to the bathroom.

Inside, the air felt too warm, too tight. My hands shook so badly I almost dropped the test. I followed the instructions on autopilot—my mind completely blank, like I was watching myself from the outside.

And then I sat on the edge of the tub, the test clutched in both hands so tightly my knuckles turned white.

I closed my eyes.

Just for a second.

Just long enough to beg silently for the universe to show mercy for once. For it to give me one small favor. One break.

One negative line.

Just one.

But when I finally forced my eyes open…

Positive.

Clear as day.

My breath left me in a sharp, broken sound. I felt my entire body recoil, like the test burned my skin. A sob tore out of me before I even realized I was crying. I dropped the test onto the floor as my legs gave out.

I slid to the tiles, knees hitting hard, but I barely felt it. My hands covered my face as the sobs pushed out of me—raw, desperate, shaking my entire body.

Pregnant.

Pregnant with Kevin’s child.

Right when I was supposed to disappear. Right when Nina was tightening her noose. Right when everything was collapsing around me.

“This… this cannot be happening,” I choked out between breaths. “Not now. Not… not like this.”

Another sob broke through, louder, messier. I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t even try.

My world was already falling apart—but this… this felt like the universe taking whatever was left and crushing it between its fingers.

I curled in on myself, shaking, wishing I could vanish right there on the bathroom floor.

Because suddenly disappearing didn’t feel like a sacrifice anymore.

It felt like a tragedy.

And I had no idea how to survive it.

By the time I finally made it to the garden, the sun had started to dip, turning everything gold in a way that felt almost cruel. The whole place looked too peaceful, like it didn’t know my life was falling apart. Or maybe it did and just didn’t care.

I saw Kevin before he saw me.

His back was to me, shoulders tense, hands shoved into his pockets as he stared straight ahead like he was trying to figure out the world by glaring at it. The sight of him like that—still, alone, deep in thought—hit me in the chest so hard I almost forgot how to breathe.

And right there, I knew.

I wasn’t going to tell him.

Not about Nina.
Not about the deal.
Not about the disappearance.
Not about the pregnancy tightening around my ribs like an iron band.

Kevin didn’t deserve to be dragged into the storm Nina was brewing. And I… I didn’t deserve to ask him to choose me over everything he had left. This secret—the pregnancy—felt like a weight that could crush both of us if I let it slip out.

So I swallowed it.

I swallowed everything.

I forced a smile onto my face—thin, trembling, barely holding together—and walked toward him.

“Hey, I’m here. Sorry I’m late,” I said quickly, rushing the words so he wouldn’t hear the quiver in my voice.

Kevin turned at the sound of my voice, and the moment his eyes found mine, something in me cracked. He looked exhausted, restless, like the world had been chewing at him all day. But there was something else too—something soft, something that always reached for me even when he didn’t.

“Abby…” he breathed, and my knees almost buckled at the sound of it.

Just my name. But from him, it sounded like a confession, like a plea, like a warning.

“Kevin…” I whispered back, the word lodging painfully in my throat. I had to force it out. I felt like if I didn’t speak, I would just stand there and cry.

He didn’t move.

I didn’t move either.

The air between us thickened with everything we weren’t saying. All the fear, all the desire, all the memories of nights we shouldn’t have shared but did anyway, nights that were now carved into my skin forever. Even the garden felt like it was holding its breath, waiting to see which one of us would break first.

I wanted to run to him.

God, I wanted to run to him more than I had wanted anything in my whole entire pathetic life. I wanted to throw myself into his arms, bury my face in his neck, inhale his stupid scent that I swear felt like home, even when he drove me insane.

I wanted to kiss him.
Hold him.
Tell him that despite everything, I loved him more than was good for me.

But I couldn’t.

My legs wouldn’t obey.
My heart wouldn’t let me.

Because the weight of what I had already decided—the weight of the lies I was about to carry—held me frozen like I was rooted in the soil beneath my feet.

He looked at me like he could see right through me. Like he knew something was wrong but didn’t know where to start. His jaw tightened. His hands twitched. His breath came out uneven.

And the silence… the silence wrapped around us like smoke.

Heavy.
Dense.
Dangerous.

A silence that teetered between pulling each other closer and tearing each other apart.

A silence laced with desire—because even now, even with everything hanging over us like a blade, I still felt that pull toward him. The one I couldn’t control. The one I shouldn’t feel.

But it was there.
And it was strong.

And beneath the desire, danger simmered like an undercurrent—danger of the truth, danger of what I was hiding, danger of what would happen once I left.

I stared at him, feeling the burn behind my eyes, forcing myself to hold steady. Forcing myself to pretend I wasn’t slowly breaking apart.

If I told him the truth now, I knew what he would do.

He’d burn the entire world to save me.
He’d go to war with Nina.
He’d throw himself in front of every consequence.

He’d never let me go.

And I… I couldn’t let him destroy himself for me.