Chapter 110 up
“Breathe slowly, Mrs. Elara. Look here.”
“D-doctor?” Elara’s voice trembled. Her fingers gripped the edge of the examination bed, knuckles turning pale as if she were holding on to the last solid thing in the room.
The doctor turned the monitor slightly and pointed at the test results placed neatly on the stainless-steel table. Two red lines stood out clearly—too clear, too definitive, as if they allowed no space for doubt, no room for denial.
“Congratulations,” the doctor said gently. “You’re pregnant.”
The air in the room suddenly felt heavier, thicker, as though it had gained weight. Elara opened her mouth, then closed it again. Her eyes moved from the paper to the monitor, then down to her own hands—hands that were now trembling, as if her body had understood the news before her mind could catch up.
“P-pregnant?” she whispered, almost as if she were asking herself.
The doctor nodded. “Approximately five weeks. It’s still very early. You’ll need plenty of rest and should avoid excessive stress.”
Stress. The word sounded ironic. Elara let out a small laugh—a fractured sound that wasn’t entirely happy, nor entirely sad. Tears welled up before she even realized they were there.
Pregnant.
The word echoed in her head, bouncing back and forth like a sound trapped in a long corridor. Warmth spread through her chest, a fullness she couldn’t quite explain. And yet, alongside it came a sudden cold pull in her stomach—anxiety slipping in uninvited.
She left the examination room with slow, careful steps. The hospital corridor smelled of antiseptic, sharp and sterile. Clark was waiting outside. His suit was still immaculate, his tie perfectly straight, as if he had just stepped out of an important meeting—not out of a moment that might alter the course of their lives forever.
“So?” Clark asked. His voice was flat, controlled a little too well.
Elara stopped in front of him. She saw his reflection in her eyes—the man she had married, the man standing before her with an expression she couldn’t quite read. She raised the test results, her fingers shaking.
“I’m pregnant.”
The sentence fell between them.
There was no music, no spontaneous embrace like the ones Elara had imagined in quieter moments. No sudden joy. Only silence—long and heavy.
Clark stared at the paper. Then at Elara’s face. His breath caught for a fraction of a second—a tiny movement, almost invisible. His lips parted, then closed again.
“Oh,” he said at last.
One word. Just that.
Elara waited.
She waited for a smile. For Clark’s hand to reach for her shoulder. For even a flicker of happiness in his eyes. Instead, she saw something dark pass through his expression—like a cloud abruptly covering the sun.
“You’re… sure?” Clark asked, his voice low.
The question pierced her more sharply than she had expected. She nodded quickly. “The doctor confirmed it. The test is clear.”
Clark rubbed his face, his palm stopping at his jaw before sliding down to his neck. The movement wasn’t restless—it was the gesture of someone trying to hold up a heavy weight before it collapsed on him.
“This is… sudden,” he said.
Sudden.
Elara forced a stiff smile. “Children don’t come with schedules, Clark.”
He didn’t return the smile. Instead, he turned toward the corridor window, toward the hospital garden outside—green, peaceful, and somehow impossibly distant. His shoulders sagged slightly, as though something inside him had deflated.
“Clark?” Elara called softly.
He turned back to her. “Let’s talk at home.”
Inside the car, the hum of the engine felt unbearably loud. Elara sat upright, both hands resting on her abdomen—a reflexive gesture that made her chest ache with warmth and pain at the same time. Clark drove in silence, eyes fixed on the road, jaw tight.
Elara watched for small signs: the way his fingers gripped the steering wheel a little too hard, the way he seemed to hold his breath at every red light. There was no excitement. No curious questions about the baby. Only something else—something heavy. Guilt. Elara sensed it like the smell of rain before a storm.
“Clark,” she said finally. “Are you not happy?”
He didn’t answer right away. The traffic light turned red. The car stopped. He stared straight ahead before speaking. “It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?” Elara turned fully toward him, her voice rising despite herself. “Because ever since I told you I’m pregnant, you’ve looked like—”
“Like what?” Clark cut in, his voice sharper than before.
Elara flinched. She took a breath, trying to hold back the surge of emotion pressing against her ribs. “Like someone who just received bad news.”
The words hung between them. The light turned green. Clark pressed the gas.
“I’m just… worried,” he said quietly. “Our situation isn’t ideal.”
“What situation?” Elara asked quickly. “I’m your wife. This is our child.”
Clark didn’t respond.
That silence struck harder than any shout. Elara turned toward the window, staring at her own reflection in the glass—a woman with watery eyes, holding her stomach as if afraid of losing something she hadn’t fully had yet.
At home, Elara went straight to the bedroom without a word. She sat on the edge of the bed, the test results still in her hand. The two red lines stared back at her, indifferent to doubt, indifferent to Clark’s hesitation.
Clark stood in the doorway. “Elara…”
“You don’t have to pretend,” she said without looking at him. “I can see it.”
See what? Clark wanted to ask, but the words stuck in his throat. He stepped inside and sat on the chair, elbows resting on his knees, head bowed.
“I’m scared,” he admitted. “Scared I won’t be able to give the best.”
Elara let out a soft, bitter laugh. “That’s an easy excuse.”
Clark looked up. “What do you mean?”
“Your fear isn’t about me,” Elara said, turning to face him. Her eyes were sharp, wet with tears. “It’s not about this baby. It’s about you. About something you’re not telling me.”
Clark froze.
Elara stood up. The distance between them was now only a few steps. “Tell me,” she said quietly, almost pleading. “Do you truly want this child?”
Clark opened his mouth. Closed it again. For the first time, he had no answer.
And in that moment, Elara’s fear took root.
Not because of the two red lines. Not because of an uncertain future. But because the man in front of her—her husband—could not say yes without hesitation.
Elara lowered her gaze to her stomach, her hand resting there protectively. “If you can’t want this child,” she said softly, her voice trembling but firm, “then I will want them enough for both of us.”