Chapter 146 I did not come to argue

Chapter 146 I did not come to argue
Tegan

The clinical, sterile scent of the private wing inside Doctor Helena’s clinic did absolutely nothing to ease the persistent, tight knot of tension lingering behind my ribs.

I sat on the edge of the leather examination table, my flats dangling a few inches off the floor as I smoothed down my heavy knit sweater.

"Oh, look at you! You are absolutely glowing, Tegan!"

The privacy curtain swung open, and the suffocating clinical air was instantly broken by a wave of warmth. Stepping into the room was my mother, Evelyn Vale, dressed in a pristine, cream-colored trench coat that exuded her usual high-society elegance.

But right beside her, holding a tablet and wearing a white lab coat over a sleek emerald blouse, was Doctor Helena.

I blinked in surprise, a genuine smile breaking through my guarded armor.

"Mom? Helena?"

"We were just catching up in the corridor, dear," my mother smiled beautifully, walking over to press a soft kiss against my forehead before sitting gracefully in the armchair.

"More like talking about our old residency days," Doctor Helena laughed, a warm, nostalgic spark in her eyes as she prepped the 3D ultrasound machine beside my table.

Helena had been my mother’s best friend since their university years, and she had practically become an honorary aunt to me. She rolled her stool over, winking at my mom.

"Your mother was telling me all about how your father’s political team is losing their minds over the upcoming campaign metrics, while I was telling her that her daughter is officially the sharpest medical student I’ve mentored this semester."

"She takes after me, obviously," my mother teased, her sharp eyes softening completely as she looked at my stomach.

"Alright, let's run the scan and see how our little one is doing," Doctor Helena cooed, squeezing a dollop of warm, clear conductive gel directly onto the bare silk of my exposed belly.

She pressed the plastic transducer against my skin, sliding it smoothly across the curve.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

The deep, continuous, and utterly thunderous sound of a powerful fetal heartbeat suddenly boomed through the room’s audio speakers, vibrating straight off the pristine white walls.

A hot tear of absolute, overwhelming emotion escaped my lashes, my fingers tightening around the edge of the leather table as I stared up at the high-definition monitor.

The grey matrix displayed the perfectly clear, beautiful outline of my baby, the tiny spine, the miniature ribs, and two small hands tucked right up near its jawline. No matter how many times I've seen it, I always tear up all over again.

"Healthy, active, and right on schedule," Helena murmured proudly, tracing the screen with her stylus while my mother watched with bright, tearful eyes, the two of them instantly falling back into a comfortable, rapid-fire chatter about fetal measurements and pregnancy timelines.

A knock on the door was heard, before the heavy wood was pushed backward with a stiff, rigid precision that instantly made the air in the room turn completely freezing cold.

My chest violently tightened, my hands locking against the mattress as my entire body went rigid. Standing in the threshold, his silver hair perfectly coiffed, his tailored dark suit immaculate, was my father.

The room’s cheerful, maternal gisting instantly evaporated into a dead, suffocating silence. Even Doctor Helena’s hand paused on the transducer. Great, just great.

My father stepped into the examination room, his posture an unyielding, arrogant block of stone. He didn't look at my mother, and he barely glanced at the glowing monitor displaying his grandchild’s heartbeat.

He stopped right at the foot of my table, his features locked into that terrifying, professional composure he used for national television.

"Fester," my mother whispered his name, her tone turning razor-thin and warning.

Papa ignored her, his cold, calculating eyes locking directly onto my face. He cleared his throat, his deep, authoritative voice carrying an awkward, heavily disciplined stiffness as he looked down at me.

"Your academic advisor, Martha, informed my office that your board exams were processed ahead of schedule," he stated, his strict tone entirely devoid of standard paternal warmth, yet there was a strange, unreadable hesitation in his jaw.

He looked at the rounded swell of my stomach, his hands tightening inside his pockets. "You look... healthy, Tegan. The administration tells me your presidency on the Student Union is secure. How are you….. handling things?"

"I am perfectly fine, Papa" I shot back, my voice an ice-cold, quiet register that cut straight through his composure.

"If you came here to remind me how much of a slut I am. And how I'm carrying the child of a thug, you can just save your breath." I scoffed, looking away from him.

My father’s expression didn't slip into rage like I had expected. Instead, an incredibly awkward, tense shadow crossed his features. He reached into his deep coat pocket, pulled out a small, heavy velvet box wrapped in a classic silk ribbon, and set it heavily on the edge of my examination table near my feet.

"I did not come to argue, Tegan," he murmured, his voice tight, his strict demeanor making the gesture look physically difficult for him.

He took a step back toward the door, his eyes lingering on mine for one final, conflicted second. "It is a traditional family keepsake. From your grandmother's estate. For the child. Ensure you maintain your nutritional boundaries before the third trimester."

I stared down at the velvet box sitting against the leather, utterly confused by the sudden, awkward shift in his armor. Well, that was one weird interaction.

He had publicly branded me a disgrace, he had tried to strip my career, and now he was standing in a clinic room dropping a family heirloom at my feet in a strict, stilted tone.

My anger was still burning hot in my throat, my fingers twitching against the sheets, but I slowly reached out, my hand closing around the heavy velvet box.

"Goodbye, Tegan," my father said stiffly, turning on his heel and walking out into the corridor, his heavy dress shoes echoing loudly against the tiled floorboards before the privacy door shut with a final, heavy click.

“He's coming around” my mom said quickly, as she headed towards the door. Following him.

I sat flat on the table, completely frozen in the quiet room, my eyes fixed on the velvet box in my hand as the electronic hum of the ultrasound machine continued to vibrate in the silence, leaving the puzzle of my fractured family completely unsolved.

“Well that was intense,” Helena sighed heavily.