CHAPTER 144 — New Beginnings

CHAPTER 144 — New Beginnings

Lisa's POV 

Three months post hearing. I sit in my home office – the spare bedroom that Leo helped me turn into an office – and I look at my computer screen with a deep sense of satisfaction.

The email that I’ve been waiting for just came in. Congratulations Ms. Reed your promotion to Senior Director has been approved. Your commitment to high standards, creative thinking and outstanding leadership has not gone unnoticed... I read it thrice, allowing it to sink in. Senior Director. I've been working toward that for two years. A position that seemed so unattainable just half a year ago, when my world was crumbling.

But I did it.

I close up my computer and recline in my chair, taking in the room. It’s a little space but it’s all mine—bookcases containing business books and novels, a little couch under the window where I often read, my diplomas hanging on the wall. Proof of all I have created, all I have become.

A buzz on my phone signals a text from my therapist: And don’t forget our session tomorrow @ 2.00pm. Can't wait to see if you’re faring as well now as then. I cannot wait to see how well you’re doing. Lisa.

I smile. Therapy. Something I signed up for after all that took place with Andre and Leo. Not because I’m broken, but because I’m dedicated to remaining whole. To keep growing, healing, learning to know myself better, he says.
It has made all the difference. 

I rise from my seat and approach the window, gazing down at the garden beneath. Leo and I did the planting together last month—flowers, herbs and vegetables. Something living that we nurture together. He’s been gardening obsessively — researching, reading books and watching videos — all the way up to doing it right.
It’s very him. Committed, thorough, all in.

Now that’s who we are now. All in.

I think back to six months ago, the woman I was then. Afraid. Secretive. Still bearing scars from a marriage that ended years ago. Still longing for approval from someone who never valued her.
I hardly recognize that woman now.

The path from there to here was not straight. There were setbacks—times when old patterns attempted to reemerge, when I wanted to deal with something on my own instead of turning to Leo. But I caught myself. We caught each other. And gradually, excruciatingly, exquisitely we learned to be true partners.

Perfect partners, no. We still fight. Still disagree. We have our moments of frustration and miscommunication.

But we work through it. Every single time. I grab the journal I have been keeping — the one I began that day when I was trying to figure out why I let Andre back into my life. I skim through pages of musings, realizations, painful truths, and hard-earned wisdom.

I begin to write on a blank page. 

If you’d asked me six months ago I would have said revenge is what I wanted. I wanted Andre to know what it felt like to be ground down, as I had been.

It is holding on to anger, nurturing it, allowing it to consume our thoughts and energy. It means that you allow those who harmed you to maintain a grip on your life.

Peace, I’ve come to understand, is far superior.
Peace is leaving go. Not forgetting—I’m never going to forget what they did—but letting go of the anger that went with it. Shifting toward the building instead of tearing down. Building up instead of breaking down.

Claire is in jail. Andre is gone, his life in ruins. They are paying for their decisions.

What do I want? To live my best life.

I am having a great career now. I got the promotion that I have been working towards for so many years. I am respected by my colleagues. What I do matters.

My relationship with Leo is stronger than ever. We’ve been through fire and come out the other side, not unscathed, but stronger. More honest. More committed.

I’ve gotten back in touch with friends I’d lost touch with. Got back into therapy. I’ve started painting – something I loved as a child but gave up whenAndrè said it was just a waste of time.
I’ve learned to put my foot down. To say no. To take care of myself without feeling guilty.

I have come to realize that I am enough. Not because of what I do or who likes me, but just because I am.

That's what peace feels like. And it’s just sweeter than revenge could ever be.

I put down the pen and read what I’ve written. That’s true. Everything.

I rise and stretch, a small dizziness passing over me. I don’t know been feeling weird for a few days — exhausted, nauseated in the mornings, emotional for reasons that don’t really…
And then I know: I’m late.

Very late. If everything was okay, we would have had it by now and you could relax.
I’m like a rabbit. I freeze, my hand going instinctually to my stomach. mentally count back, I do the math.

Three weeks. Maybe four.

Oh my God. Oh my God!!

I’m not panicking. With something else. It’s a little more complicated than what that represents. There is something, something more, something that sounds like hope and fear and overwhelming possibilities all in one.

I might be pregnant.

I lower myself again into my chair, my hand still lying flat against my flat stomach. A baby. Leo's baby. Our baby.

Naturally we've talked. Late-night conversations about the future, about who we are as people, about family. But always in the abstract—“someday” and “eventually” and “when we’re ready.”

Are we ready? ‘Cause you ready?

I thought about all we had been through. We thought about everything that we’d been through, and all that we had overcome.” So the trust that we’ve rebuilt, and the commitment that we have each other, and our life that we’re building together.

Maybe we are ready. Maybe we have already been taken more than we know.” Sage was adjusted. Changed for the better. I have to be tested. I have to be certain before I can allow myself to feel this wave of emotion that is about to crash down on me.

I grab my purse and keys, my hands are trembling a little. So close is a pharmacy. I can be there and back before Leo gets home from work.

After twenty minutes, I am in my bathroom, looking down at three pregnancy tests sitting on the counter.

I did all three just to be sure. Just to rule out any chance of a mistake.

And all three show the same result.
Two pink lines.
Pregnant.

Digital display: Pregnant, 3-4 weeks.
Plus sign.

I sink down onto the edge of the bathtub, tears streaming down my face. Happy tears. Overwhelmed tears. scared tears! They were all throwing the whole collection of fecal matter bits, mashed up scrubbing arms, and tears, everything.

I'm pregnant.
We're having a baby.

My hand goes to my stomach again — to the tiny life growing inside me. So small. So new. So entirely life-changing.

I consider telling Leo. Where do I start? How do I explain what this means?

We have constructed something really lovely, he and I. We built a house, a marriage, a love that endured the worst and emerged more powerful. And now we are making something else. A person. A brand new person who's going to be part of this love story.

The idea is overstuffed and is just the way it should be and it's scary and wonderful at the same time.

I hear the front door open downstairs. Leo's home.

“Lisa? Are you here?” I dab my face as I try to get myself under control but more tears fall. 

"Upstairs!"

I can hear him running up the stairs, then he is in the bathroom doorway. He glances at my face and comes across the room to me at once.

“What's wrong? Are you ok?” His hands are on my face, wiping away tears, his eyes looking at me like he’s looking for an injury.

I manage a laugh through my tears, “I’m fine. Better than fine.”

“Then why are you crying?”

I have no words so instead I just point at the counter, where there are three tests sitting side by side.

His eyes follow my gesture. He gazes at the tests for a long moment, his face not betraying anything. Then he looks back at me.

"Are those...?"

“Positive,” I murmur. "All three. I’m pregnant, Leo. We’re pregnant."

His face goes through a dozen different expressions in a matter of seconds – shocked, confused, disbelieving and then, finally, absolute, pure joy. His eyes fill with tears, and his fingers close tight on my face.

“A baby?” His voice breaks.

“We’re expecting a baby. "

He makes a sound—half laughter, half sobbing—and then he’s kissing me. My face, my forehead, my nose, my lips. It was like I was getting kissed by the happiest man on earth. Like I had just given him the greatest gift possible.
When he finally pulls back, we are both crying and laughing at once. 

‘I can’t believe it,’ he whispers, and rests his hand on top of mine on my belly. “There’s a baby in there. Our baby.”

“Are you happy?” I ask, surprising myself with how much I want to hear him say it.

“Happy?” He gives me the sort of look you’d give someone who just asked if the sky is blue. “Lisa, I…” I don’t even have the words. I’m beyond happy."

“I’m too,” I concede. “Twenty minutes I found out, and I’ve been through every emotion imaginable.”
He pulls me close and we simply hold each other, his hand is still on my stomach. Our baby. Our future. Our family.

‘We’re going to be parents,’ he whispers in wonder.

“We’re going to be horrible parents in the beginning,” I say, laughing.

“I’m sure. But we’ll figure it out. Together.” He pulls back to look at me. “Like we figure everything out. Together.”

“Together,” I say.

So we just sit there on the bathroom floor, leaning back against the tub, his arm around me, his hand and my hand both resting on my stomach. And I think about how we got here. The journey that brought us here. The pain of my first marriage. The betrayal. The years of healing.

Meeting Leo and learning what real love is like.
Andre's return and the havoc it wreaked.
Almost losing Leo. Almost losing everything.
Fighting for us. 

And now this. New life. New beginning. New chapter in a story I once considered ended.

"I got promoted today," I announce out of the blue, remembering. “Senior Director.”

“What?” Leo pulls back to gaze at me. “Lisa, that’s amazing! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I found out I was pregnant twenty minutes later and kind of forgot everything else.”
He laughs, the sound is full of joy. 

He kisses my forehead. “You’ve been through so much. Achieved so much. And now you’re growing our baby. You’re absolutely incredible.”

More tears fall, but these are purely happy. "I love you. So much."

“I love you too. Both of you.” His hand presses softly on my stomach. “The three of us will be all right.”

And sitting there on that bathroom floor, in his arms, I know he’s right.

Better than fine. We're going to be wonderful.
I think about revenge again. About the road not taken. If I’d just concentrated on destroying Andre and Claire, on making them suffer, on clinging to anger and pain — I wouldn’t be here. Wouldn’t have this peace. This joy. This future. 

Letting go wasn’t weakness. It was strength.
Choosing peace over vengeance wasn’t coming up short. It was winning.

Because this – this moment, this love, this life growing inside me — this is what victory looks like.
Not my ex-husband in ruins. Not my step-sister in prison. Not the satisfaction of having obliterated those who hurt me. 

But this is. Building something beautiful. Making something new. Pressing on rather than retreating.

This is peace. This is joy. This was all I never didn’t know I needed.

I lean my head against Leo's shoulder, his hand still warm on my stomach, and I am utterly, completely at peace.

The past is behind me. The pain has been turned into wisdom. The shattered fragments have been assembled into something new and beautiful.
And the future — our future — lies before us, radiant with possibility, promise and love.

A baby. A family. A life we are building together.
"Thank you," I say to Leo.

"For what?"

"For coming back. For choosing us. For being here for this moment."

"Always," he promises. "I’ll always choose us. You’re my home, Lisa. This little one and you." He presses his hand more firmly against my stomach. "You both are my home."

Then there in our bathroom, with our tears drying on our cheeks and our hands clasped over the life we fashioned, I know beyond a doubt:

This is where I’m supposed to be.
This is who I was meant to be with.
This is the life I’m supposed to live. Not in spite of the pain I’ve seen, but because of the pain I’ve seen. Because the way through darkness taught me to see light. Because losing everything taught me what really matters. Because just about giving up taught me to fight for what I want. 

I'm stronger now. Wiser. More whole.

I'm ready for this next chapter. Ready to be a mother. Ready to build this family with Leo. Bring it on for the next ground-shaking event.

Because I know now what I didn’t know then:

I am enough. I am worthy. I am loved.

And that knowledge—that deep, unshakeable certainty—is the greatest gift of all.

Not revenge. Not vindication. Not justice.

But peace. Self-knowledge. Love.

And a future that's just beginning.