Chapter 50 Lindsey
KARA’S POV
The day after the chaos at the office, Louisse suddenly sends a message in our group chat.
Louisse: Pizza tonight. Non-negotiable.
I stare at the message for a second before replying.
Me: You’re pregnant.
Almost instantly, another notification appears.
Louisse: Exactly. Pregnant women crave things.
A third message pops up from Sancha.
Sancha: Let the woman eat pizza, Kara. One night won’t kill the baby.
I sigh and type back.
Me: If your child comes out shaped like a pepperoni slice, don’t blame me.
A laughing emoji floods the chat and just like that, our pizza date is set.
The restaurant Louisse picked is small but lively. The smell of freshly baked dough and melted cheese fills the air the moment we walk in. Louisse is already seated when Sancha and I arrive. Her six-month belly is unmistakable now. It curves proudly under her loose dress, a quiet reminder of how fast time has been moving without us noticing.
“Finally!” she says dramatically. “The hungry pregnant woman has been waiting.”
I slide into the seat across from her and eye the menu suspiciously.
“You’re not supposed to eat too much greasy food.”
Sancha drops into the seat beside me.
“Oh relax, Doctor Kara,” she says, waving her hand dismissively. “One pizza won’t hurt.”
Louisse grins triumphantly.
“See? Sancha understands me.”
“I understand cravings,” Sancha corrects.
The waiter arrives and Louisse orders a large pizza with extra cheese and mushrooms before I can protest. When the pizza finally arrives, Louisse nearly claps.
“Oh my God.”
“You’re acting like you haven’t eaten in days,” I say.
She grabs a slice dramatically.
“You don’t understand the emotional struggle of pregnancy.”
Sancha snorts.
“You just like food.”
Louisse points the slice at her.
“Food is love.”
We all laugh.
For a while, the conversation flows easily. Work, gossip, random stories about Sancha’s disastrous date last week. But eventually the conversation drifts somewhere quieter.
Sancha leans her chin on her hand.
“So,” she says casually. “Are we ever going to talk about the father?”
The question lands softly, but it changes the air immediately. Louisse’s smile fades slightly and looks down at her pizza.
“I told you guys already,” she murmurs. “Not yet.”
Sancha softens instantly.
“Hey… I’m not pressuring you.”
Louisse sighs.
“It’s just… complicated.”
I reach across the table and gently squeeze her hand.
“You don’t have to explain anything until you’re ready.”
She smiles gratefully.
“Thank you.”
Sancha raises her slice of pizza.
“To mysterious baby daddies.”
Louisse groans.
“You’re impossible.”
But the tension dissolves and for a moment, we just sit there laughing again.
Six months.
I glance at her stomach because three more months is very fast and time is moving faster than any of us expected.
After the pizza date, we say goodbye outside the restaurant. Louisse hugs me carefully and kisses my cheeks
“Visit me this weekend,” she says.
“Of course.”
Sancha points at Louisse.
“And stop ordering junk food.”
Louisse rolls her eyes.
“Goodbye, judgmental friends.”
I laugh before heading toward the mall across the street. Since I decided to move back to my condo this week, I still need to buy a few house things. Dad seems to be doing better lately. He's stronger and more relaxed. So I figured I could return to my place and just visit him every day after work instead of staying there constantly. Still, something about that night when I heard him talking to Mom’s picture hasn’t completely left my mind. I push the thought away as I walk through the mall.
Bright lights reflect against polished floors while soft music plays overhead. I wander into a home décor store and start picking up random things.
New bed sheets, kitchen containers, a small lamp for my bedside table, simple things, and normal things.
I’m browsing near the “New Arrivals” section when I accidentally bump into someone.
“Oh—sorry!”
I look up and immediately pause. The woman standing in front of me is stunning. She's tall and elegant. Her features carry a mix of foreign and Filipino beauty, sharp yet soft at the same time. Her long dark hair falls neatly over her shoulders, and her outfit is simple but expensive-looking. But what catches me most is her expression. It is warm and kind.
She smiles easily.
“It’s okay,” she says gently.
Her voice is soft and refined. I realize she’s holding a few clothing hangers in her hand like she was just browsing.
She tilts her head slightly.
“What are you looking for?” she asks. “We have new arrivals today.”
I blink.
“Oh... actually…” I gesture awkwardly toward the items in my basket. “I was about to leave.”
She glances at the basket and nods.
“That’s great then.”
Then she laughs softly.
“Come again, I guess?”
Her laugh is light, almost musical. I can’t help smiling back.
“Maybe I will.”
Before I can say anything else, another woman wearing a store uniform approaches quickly.
“Miss Lindsey,” the employee says respectfully. “Mr. Salveina is here.”
The name hits my ears instantly.
Lindsey.
The woman nods calmly.
“Alright.”
She turns back to me with the same warm smile.
“It was nice meeting you.”
“You too,” I say automatically.
And then she walks away. Her posture is straight, graceful, and confident. She enters a small office area at the back of the store where a man in a sharp business suit is already waiting. I stand there for a moment longer than necessary, because the name lingers in my mind.
Lindsey.
My chest tightens slightly. The memory of a conversation on the beach flashes suddenly.
“Lindsey,” he said. “That was real.”
Two years, a serious relationship, and
the woman Finnian once loved. My gaze drifts toward the office door she disappeared behind. A strange feeling settles in my chest, because the woman I probably just met is probably and exactly the kind of woman someone like Finnian would fall for.
I shake my head slightly because maybe, it’s just a coincidence, maybe there are plenty of women named Lindsey in this city, but somehow the thought refuses to leave my mind.
And as I walk out of the store, I can’t help wondering if Did I just meet the woman Finnian once loved? or worse the woman he might still love.