Chapter 60 The Hospital
The morning light was pale and thin when I woke, filtering through the heavy curtains in soft, gray streaks that made the room feel like it was holding its breath. I lay still for a moment, the sheets cool against my skin, the faint scent of cedar and last night's woodsmoke lingering in the air. My stomach churned, not violently, but enough to remind me why I was up before the rest of the house. Nausea, the now-familiar guest, had arrived right on time.
I sat up slowly, the mattress dipping under me, and pressed a hand to my abdomen, flat, unchanged, but hiding a truth I still couldn't fully accept. The test strip in the drawer had confirmed it, and now the appointment with the OB/GYN would make it undeniable. I had lied to Alexander last night, saying I was visiting Mom in the hospital after lectures. He’d kissed my forehead, told me to take my time, that he’d see me when I got back. He didn’t know the real reason. He didn’t know anything.
I dressed quickly, jeans, a soft sweater that hung loose around my waist, boots laced with numb fingers. The house was still asleep; the stairs creaked softly under my weight as I tiptoed down, the banister cool and smooth under my palm. In the kitchen, Clara had left a plate of muffins and a pot of coffee. I grabbed a muffin, blueberry, still warm, the crumbly top breaking apart in my fingers, and ate it standing on the island, the sweetness bursting on my tongue. My stomach growled louder, demanding more, and I took another, the hunger sharp and unrelenting, like my body was starving for two.
I left before anyone woke, slipping into Alexander’s black Sedan, the keys still on the hook where he always left them. The engine purred to life, low and smooth, the leather seats cold against my back. The drive to the hospital was quiet, the roads slick with melting snow, the world outside a blur of white and gray. My hands gripped the wheel too tightly, knuckles white, the heater blasting warm air that smelled faintly of pine from Alexander’s coat still draped over the passenger seat.
The hospital loomed ahead, tall, gray, the parking lot half-full even at this hour. I parked far from the main entrance, heart hammering as I walked inside, the automatic doors sighing open with a rush of warm, antiseptic air. The receptionist directed me to the OB/GYN wing, her voice gentle, professional. I filled out forms with shaking hands, the pen scratching across paper, the waiting room clock ticking louder than it should.
The nurse called my name. The exam room was small, sterile, white walls, the faint smell of disinfectant, the paper on the table crinkling under me. The doctor was kind, older, calm, her voice soothing as she asked questions I answered in half-truths. No mention of werewolves. No mention of mates. Just a girl who’d had unprotected sex and was late.
The ultrasound was cold, gel slick on my stomach, the wand pressing gently. The screen flickered to life, grainy black and white, and there it was: a tiny, pulsing shape. Six weeks. A heartbeat, fast, fluttering, alive.
The doctor smiled. “Congratulations. Everything looks good so far. Here are some prenatal vitamins, instructions, and a follow-up appointment. Take care of yourself.”
I nodded, numb, clutching the printout in my hand, the grainy image of the little life inside me. Happy. Sad. Confused. Scared. All of it crashed over me at once, leaving me breathless.
I walked straight to mom’s ward. I stood outside the glass window, watching her sleep, her face pale, IV line snaking into her arm, the steady beep of the monitor the only sound. I couldn’t go in. Couldn’t disturb her, couldn’t face her with this secret burning in my chest. I stood there until my legs ached, until the cold seeped through my coat, until my stomach growled again, loud, demanding, reminding me I wasn’t alone anymore.
I left, driving aimlessly until I found a small restaurant near the hospital, quiet, half-empty, the smell of coffee and frying onions comforting. I ordered soup and bread, ate slowly, the warmth spreading through me, but the food tasted like nothing. My mind was too loud.
After, I walked to the nearest park. The paths were clear, snow piled on either side, the air crisp and biting. I sat on a bench, coat pulled tight, staring at the frozen pond where ducks huddled together. The pregnancy printout was in my handbag, folded small, a secret I couldn’t keep much longer.
I couldn’t do this alone.
I pulled out my phone, fingers trembling as I dialed Sophia.
She answered on the second ring. “Maddie? Is everything okay?”
“No,” I whispered, voice cracking. “I need you. Can you meet me? There’s a park near the hospital, I will send the address, try please.”
“I’m on my way.”
She arrived twenty minutes later, brown coat, scarf flying, boots crunching on the path. When she saw me, she ran. Her arms wrapped around me before I could speak, and the dam broke. I sobbed into her shoulder, hot, ugly tears soaking her coat, the cold wind whipping my hair around us.
She held me tight, rubbing my back. “Hey, hey. Whatever it is, I’m here. Tell me.”
I pulled back, wiping my face with shaking hands. “It started the night we went to the nightclub to celebrate the end of our final session in architecture studies. Someone drugged me, that’s why I told you guys I needed fresh air outside, whoever drugged me followed me and tried to rape me outside. Alexander saved me. Took me to his hotel room. We… We had a one-night stand. Passionate. Intense. Then I found out on my wedding day, he’s Ben’s stepfather.”
Sophia’s eyes widened, but she didn’t interrupt.
“The marriage is fake you already know,” I continued, voice breaking. “Ben needed it for leverage, I needed the money for Mom’s treatment. But Alexander and I… we couldn’t stop. The affair kept going. During the Christmas getaway at his cabin, I found out I’m pregnant. I can’t tell him, I don’t know if he’ll reject it. Ben can’t find out, he’s already suspicious, aggressive. If he knows, he’ll destroy Alexander, destroy me. I don’t know what to do. I can’t end this fake marriage yet, and I want to keep the baby.”
I didn’t mention the mate bond. Didn’t mention werewolves. I couldn’t. Not yet.
Sophia listened, eyes wide, hand covering her mouth. When I finished, she sat in silence for a long moment, the wind rustling the bare branches above us.
Then she pulled me close again. “Maddie… oh, honey. You’re not alone in this. Whatever you decide, I’m with you. Mistakes happen. Life happens. And honestly? Alexander is hotter than Ben. If I had the chance to sleep with him, I wouldn’t miss it either.”
I laughed, shaky, tear-soaked, but real. “You’re terrible.”
“I’m honest.” She squeezed me. “You’re going to be okay. And I’m going to be the best godmother ever. Now get up, we’re getting ice cream for my goddaughter.”
I laughed harder, tears streaming. “What makes you think it’s a girl?”
She grinned. “Intuition.”
We walked to the nearest ice cream shop, the cold air stinging my cheeks but feeling lighter now. Chocolate fudge for me, strawberry for her. We sat on a bench, eating slowly, the sweet cream melting on my tongue, the sugar hitting my bloodstream like comfort.
After, she hugged me again, tight, fierce. “Call me anytime. I mean it.”
Then she left, heading back to her apartment, and I drove home, slowly, the estate gates opening automatically, the house rising dark and grand against the winter sky.
I slipped inside, the foyer quiet, the grandfather clock ticking softly. Upstairs, I locked my door, pulled the ultrasound printout from my handbag, and placed it in the drawer beside the test strip. Two pieces of proof. Two secrets.
I showered, the hot water washing away the day’s tears, then crawled into bed, the sheets cool against my skin.
Sleep came slowly, but it came.
And tomorrow, I'll face whatever awaits me.