The Shock (2)

The Shock (2)


Nico

“Are the results here yet?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm as I stood inside the Famiglia clinic.

Marie, our family doctor, looked up from her desk and shook her head gently. “Mr. Romano, the tests were sent to the lab. It may take the whole day, sometimes even longer. If you want, I can call them again.”

“Leave it,” I said at first. They had already called me an hour ago. If the results were ready, they would have informed me. Still, my heart refused to settle. After a pause, I added, “Actually,  call them once more. Ask them to hurry, but tell them not to compromise on quality.”

“Yes, Mr. Romano,” Marie said politely.

She made the call. As expected, the results were still not ready.

That evening, dinner felt heavier than usual.

Serena refused to come downstairs. She was angry at everyone, for no clear reason. Nina later told me Serena had only eaten a small bowl of porridge before going to bed because she felt weak. She strictly warned me not to come upstairs until I finished dinner.

If I didn’t eat, she wouldn’t talk to me.
If I ate, she wouldn’t let me see her have dinner.

I didn’t know what I was supposed to do anymore. My life had felt like this for days confusing, tense, and fragile, like one wrong move could break everything.

“Did the test results come?” Grace asked softly during dinner.

“Not yet,” I replied.

“These tests usually take at least two days,” Nina said calmly. “You need patience.”

Luca sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Nico called the lab at least ten times today. They are probably hiding under their desks right now, trying to prepare the reports.”

“I  will pay them extra,” I muttered.

Luca rolled his eyes. “Of course you will.”

Nina folded her hands together and spoke carefully. “I just hope Serena is fine. She was away for three months. A lot can happen during that time. Her physical health suffered, and so did her mental health.”

She paused, choosing her words. “These days, she gets angry very easily. Sometimes she cries without reason. She snaps at people. Serena was never like this. I don’t know what triggers her anymore.”

Her voice softened. “I am worried about her mental well-being. I think we should convince her to see a therapist. A good one.”

“Yes,” I said immediately. “I agree.”

Then reality hit me. “But… who will talk to her?”

Everyone slowly turned to Lucia.

Lucia looked up sharply. “No! Absolutely not,” she said. “I am scared of her.”

Before anyone could respond, my phone rang.

It was Marie.

I stood up quickly, pushing my chair back. “Excuse me,” I said and walked away from the table.

“Yes, Marie?” I answered.

“Mr. Romano,” she said, her voice serious, “I went to the lab myself to check on the progress. Not all the results are ready yet, but some important ones are.”

My heart started beating faster.

“I am sending the reports to your phone right now,” she continued. “I strongly suggest you read them carefully. Also, please convince Mrs. Romano to come to the clinic. Ihave already spoken to Dr. Stephanie, and she’s on her way.”

Dr. Stephanie?

Isn’t she the gynecologist?

“Okay,” I replied quietly.

I ended the call and walked slowly toward my room. My phone buzzed in my hand. The report had arrived.

I sat down on the bed, my fingers shaking slightly as I opened the file. There were many medical terms I barely understood. Numbers, abbreviations, charts.

Then my eyes landed on one word.

Highlighted. Clear. Impossible to miss.

PREGNANT

My breath caught in my throat.

Pregnant?

I stared at the screen again, convinced my eyes were playing tricks on me. I blinked. The word remained.

Pregnant.

Serena was pregnant.

My heart started racing not with fear, not with panic but with shock so deep it left me numb.

How long?

Why didn’t she tell me?

Did she know?

Everything suddenly made sense; the fainting, the nausea, the weakness, her mood swings, her anger, her tears and the sudden weight loss. 

I closed my eyes and ran a hand through my hair.

Serena had been through too much already. Three months in prison. Physical exhaustion she was under. Emotional scars she never spoke about. And now… this.

Was her body strong enough?

Was her mind ready?

Did she even want this?

I looked toward the door leading to our room. 

A mix of emotions flooded my chest. Fear. Hope. Love. Responsibility.

I wanted to rush to her, hold her, tell her everything would be okay.
But would it be?

Something was telling me that our life was going down a spiral that none of us would be able to control.