Page 71 of Fatal Sloth

Finally, mustering up the courage to spill the beans about the pregnancy, pulling out the sonogram picture hidden in my back pocket like a magician revealing a rabbit from a hat.

He takes the picture from my hand, his expression contorting into confusion mixed with disbelief as he closely examines the image. The silence that follows puts me in a choke hold. I had expected shock or maybe even anger, but not his silence.

"Please say something," I plead, sliding off his lap, unable to bear the tension growing between us.

"Pregnant?" he finally spits out, his voice dripping with disdain. His words land on me like a series of blows, each one knocking the breath out of me. "How could you let this happen?" he demands. With each syllable, I feel the weight of his disappointment and anger crashing down on me, leaving me raw and exposed. "Did you trick me into knocking you up? Thinking it would make me keep you around?" he accuses. Each angry word he says feels like he’s blaming me, accusing me of some sort of betrayal.

"N-no, I would never trick you," I stammer, tears welling up at the corners of my eyes. His words feel like a knife to my heart, slicing through me. "Sebastiano, I didn't plan for this," I protest, my voice trembling with emotion. "It just... happened."

"How does it 'just happen?'" he says in disbelief, then grabs my hands, his grip tight but not painful. His eyes flicker with an emotion I've never seen before, sending a chill down my spine. "You said you were on the pill?" he continues. "This changes everything." With a disgusted expression, he looks down at my hands and releases me, leaving me feeling a surge of panic bubbling inside me.

"I know it's not the best timing, especially with everything going on, but I couldn't keep it from you," I rush to explain, desperation clear in my words as I plead for him to understand.

"You know I don't want kids, not with anyone and especially not with you," he retorts coldly.

My jaw clenches tightly, trying to hold the flood of emotions threatening to spill out. “But I thought––”

He cuts me off before I can finish. “You thought what? That I love you, that I wasn’t going to get rid of you the second I got my title? You’re making shit up to fit the fairy tales you read.” And before I can say anything else, he backs away from me, his steps heavy with anger. I watch him walk away, the weight of his rejection sitting heavily on my shoulders, and I know that everything has changed between us.

In the quiet of the room, his words hit me hard, stirring up a mess of feelings. But I can't just sit here and let it all fester. I've got to talk to him, figure things out, maybe even fix what's broken or leave if it can't be fixed.

"I won't ever let anyone hurt you," I murmur. I gently pat my bump-less belly, reassuring the tiny life growing within me. "I won't let you grow up with someone who doesn't want you. I've been there, and I won't let history repeat itself.”

Women raise children on their own all the time. If they can do it, so can I, I repeat to myself as I walk down the hall.

I make a conscious effort to push aside the sting of his words, the closer I get to his office. Despite the hurt, I refuse to lose hope. There's still a chance we can sit down and work through this and find a way to move forward together.

I hesitate at the partially open door, not wanting to intrude on his call. Peeking through the crack, I wait for him to finish his conversation.

Suddenly, his booming voice sends a shiver down my spine. "I don’t fucking want it! Get rid of it," he commands.

The sound of his phone crashing against the wall echoes in my ears, leaving me stuck in place. His words pierce through me, and a rush of panic washes over me. I feel tears welling up, but I refuse to let them fall. He's made his decision, and I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

I bolt for the door, my heart racing with fear at the realization that the man I thought I knew, may not be who I thought he was at all.

It's a harsh truth. But I won't stick around for him to hurt me or our baby.

Running to the garage, I throw open the box containing all of his car keys. My hand grabs a pair without much thought, and I press the fob, watching for the lights to confirm my choice. My mind whirls with chaotic thoughts as I climb into the car, start the car and drive aimlessly away from this place––the road stretching endlessly ahead.

Eventually, I find myself at a place from my past, the familiar wrought iron gates looming before me like a prison––a destination I hadn't planned on visiting, yet here I am.

40

Mia

With my hands trembling, I knock against the polished wood of my father's mansion door––a place I once called home––hoping to find some comfort in the only home I have left.

The door creaks open, and I step into the dimly lit living room. It all feels distant and cold. My father's stern glare meets mine. It's clear that he's surprised to see me, and I can't help but feel a pang of apprehension as I stand before him, unsure of how he'll react to my unexpected visit.

"I need to talk to you, Dad," I manage to say, barely above a whisper.

His eyes narrow. "Make it quick," he demands in a clipped tone.

Taking a deep breath, I gather every ounce of courage to pour my heart out. I share everything, hoping for a glimmer of understanding, a shred of compassion, just anything to tell me that I’m not alone in this world.

But as my words flow out, I’m met only by silence and the steely resolve in his eyes. I realize then that the harsh man who raised me remains unchanged.

"I'm not even sure how I could get pregnant," I protest. "I've been on the pill for over five years, never missing a day."

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