Chapter 72
Chapter 72
Chapter 72: “To Be Chosen”
POV: Jackson
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This was our third appointment.
You’d think I’d be accustomed to it by now, the routine, the questions, the cold gel on her belly, the chilly room adorned with posters proclaiming “Growing a Miracle.” But each visit still felt fresh, as if I was holding my breath, anticipating news that was beyond my control.
Our drive was marked by silence, but it wasn’t the uncomfortable kind. It was a comfortable quiet. Elizabeth tapped her fingers lightly against the passenger seat, a familiar gesture when she was deep in thought. I stole a few glances at her, yet she seemed unaware.
Or perhaps she noticed but simply didn’t mind.
The hospital was bustling, just like always. We checked in, took a seat, and waited. After twenty minutes, they called her name. I trailed behind her as usual, my hands tucked in my pockets, my eyes wandering around the space, even though nothing ever seemed to change.
The doctor greeted us with a smile and inquired about how Elizabeth had been feeling. She nodded softly and replied, “Tired,” then glanced back at me, unsure if that was the right response.
He asked the typical questions, about nausea, pain, headaches. She answered no to each of them. Then came the exam. I watched as she reclined back, lifting her shirt just enough to reveal her belly. The way her skin moved, stretched, and undulated felt almost sacred. I can’t think of a better word for it.
A moment later, the rhythmic sound of our baby’s heartbeat echoed through the room. Strong and steady.
It struck me all over again.
That’s our baby.
That’s our baby.
Elizabeth’s expression softened. She didn’t say a word, but her lips moved subtly, almost as if in a prayer. I wanted to ask what was on her mind, but I hesitated, didn’t want to interrupt the moment.
The appointment wrapped up as they always do, with more notes, reminders, some light-hearted comment about how “soon you’ll be holding them,” followed by our walk back to the car.
“Are you okay?” I asked once we settled in.
She nodded. “Yeah. It just… I don’t know. It always makes it feel more real.”
“It is real.”
“I know,” she replied after a pause. “But hearing the heartbeat still gets to me every single time.”
I started the car but didn’t drive off right away. “Do you want to take a walk? Before heading back?”
She blinked, surprised. “Now?”
“Yeah. I thought, it might be nice to get some fresh air.”
A moment passed before she agreed, “Sure. That sounds… nice.”
We drove to a serene lake at the edge of the city, a peaceful place with a path winding around the water and benches nestled under trees. It wasn't fancy, but it felt like our little sanctuary.
As we stepped out, she stretched, instinctively rubbing her lower back. “Ugh. Sitting for too long is the worst.”
“Do you want to sit or walk?”
She shot me a playful look. “I want smoothies.”
I chuckled. “Demand noted.”
There was a small kiosk down the path selling overpriced smoothies and wraps. We made our way there at a leisurely pace, hers a bit slower than usual, but I kept quiet about it.
“Peach or mango?” she asked when we reached the menu.
“Mango.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Wrong choice, but okay.”
We placed our order and settled under a tree as we waited. She took a sip of hers the moment it arrived and made a face.
“What?” I asked.
“It’s good. Just not mango.”
I offered mine. “We can switch.”
She looked at me like I’d just offered her a diamond. “Really?”
“Yeah. I don’t have a mango loyalty.”
“You should,” she said seriously, trading drinks.
We sat for a while, watching people pass by. A couple jogged with their dog. Two kids ran past us screaming about frogs. I watched Elizabeth watch them.
“You ever think about what kind of mom you’ll be?” I asked.
She tilted her head. “All the time.”
“And?”
“I’m scared.”
I didn’t expect that answer. “Why?”
“Because I never had a real example. And I’m afraid of messing up. Of not knowing how to love them right.”
“You already do.”
She looked at me, eyes wide. Vulnerable. “You really think so?”
“I know so.” I took a breath. “You love fiercely. You protect even when it costs you. That’s enough.”
She blinked, and I saw something shift in her expression. Like maybe, just maybe, she believed me.
We finished our drinks, walked some more, then headed home. The drive back was filled with soft music and the occasional hum from her. Her hand never left her belly.
Once home, I opened the door and let her go in first. “Wanna rest?”
She shook her head. “I was thinking of folding some baby clothes.”
I blinked. “You sure?”
She laughed. “You say that every time I try to do anything.”
“Because I’m not trying to catch you mid-collapse.”
“I’ll sit down to fold. You can supervise.”
“Deal.”
We sat on the living room rug, a basket of baby clothes between us. Tiny socks, onesies, little hats with ears. It was all so… real. So close.
She held up a onesie with the words Mommy’s Favorite and smiled. “I bought this on impulse.”
“I see your loyalty’s clear.”
“Oh please. You bought the Daddy’s Boss one.”
“Touché.”
We folded in silence for a while before she spoke again.
“I know you’re scared too,” she said quietly.
I froze for a second, then nodded. “Yeah.”
She reached over and touched my wrist. “You’re not your father, Jackson. You never were.”
“I know,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure I did.
She didn’t push. Just kept folding.
After a while, I looked at her. Really looked.
“I want them to grow up knowing they were chosen. Not just… born into something by accident. But wanted. Fought for.”
She placed the last onesie in the basket and looked up. “Then let’s show them. Every day.”
“Even when we don’t have it all figured out?”
“Especially then.”
I nodded slowly. “I think… this is what I wanted growing up. Not the clothes or the crib. Just this. Someone sitting beside me. Choosing me.”
She took my hand. “You have that now.”
And in that quiet, ordinary moment, surrounded by tiny clothes and soft light, I realized something.
I wasn’t just going to be a father.
I was already someone’s home.