Page 36 of All is Not Lost

The monitor hums softly beside me, an alien lullaby in this cold room. Dr. Rossi's eyes meet mine over the rim of his glasses, the weight of his gaze anchoring me to the moment.

"Signora Bennett, the tests confirm that you are indeed pregnant," he says, the Italian words crisp and devoid of ambiguity.

My heart lurches, a wild rhythm against my ribs. My breath snags in my throat, and I can't seem to draw air for a second. The word echoes in the stark white of the room, reverberating against the walls of my chest. My hands instinctively find their way to my stomach, palms flat against the soft fabric of my dress. It’s true. The home test was correct. The doctor examines me.

“How far along am I?” I ask when he’s done.

“Not very far. Looks like five weeks.”

"Are… are you certain?" My voice is a whisper; the question is foolish but necessary.

"Absolutely," he assures me with a gentle nod.

"Thank you, Doctor." The words spill out, more reflex than conscious thought, as I stand abruptly, eager to escape the confinement of the room.

"Take good care of yourself, Signora," Dr. Rossi calls after me, his voice a warm thread in the cool air.

Out in the bustling street, the afternoon sun blinds me momentarily. I take a deep breath, letting the familiar scents of espresso and baked bread anchor me to the here and now. My hand drifts to my abdomen again, protective and wondering.

I clutch the strap of my purse tighter, a newfound determination taking root. This is not how I imagined my life unfolding, but maybe, just maybe, it could be better than anything I'd dared to dream.

As I weave through the tide of people, each step feels surer than the last. I'm moving forward—toward a future that feels uncertain.

"Okay, little one," I murmur, a smile playing on my lips. "Let's go tell your father the news."

The cobblestone streets challenge my stride, but I press on, each step more decisive than the last. My heart is a drumbeat in my chest, echoing the resolute timbre of my thoughts. The afternoon sun casts long shadows as I weave between locals and tourists alike.

"Stai calma," I whisper to myself, schooling my features into a mask of calm determination. The quaint charm of the town’s historic architecture looms around me, but my focus narrows to one singular point ahead—the hotel where Daniel is staying.

I reach the grand entrance, its doors polished and imposing. Pushing through them feels like stepping into another world, one where the air shifts and the murmurs of life fade into a hushed reverence. The lobby is opulent, with marble floors that gleam under the crystal chandelier's light. It's a stark contrast to the turmoil bubbling within me.

"Posso aiutarla?" The receptionist's polite inquiry barely registers as I lift my chin and head straight for the elevators. I know his room number since he told me in case I changed my mind and wanted to see him again—a digit I wish I could expunge from my memory.

A chill runs down my spine as the elevator dings at his floor. The corridor stretches before me, each door identical until I reach the one that matters. My hand hovers over the wood, the grain cool beneath my fingertips. With a steadying breath, I knock.

Seconds stretch into an eternity before the door swings open, revealing Daniel. His sandy hair is tousled, as though he's just run his fingers through it, and his blue eyes widen in surprise—no, hope—as they lock onto mine.

"Sophia," he breathes, the syllables heavy with emotions I can't afford to decipher.

"Daniel," I respond, my voice steady despite the maelstrom within.

His face softens for a heartbeat, and the barest hint of a smile touches his lips—a reflex, perhaps, from when my presence was a cause for joy. But it disappears almost as quickly as it came, his expression shuttering as if he's bracing himself against an unseen blow.

"Can we talk?" I ask, the gravity of the situation rooting me to the spot.

"Of course," he replies, stepping aside to let me enter.

We stand in the neutral territory of his hotel room, the tension between us a living thing. The setting sun filters through the windows, casting golden light that seems at odds with the heaviness of our encounter. My resolve strengthens; this confrontation will set the course for the rest of my life.

"Daniel," I start, the words forming the opening salvo to a conversation that will change everything.

I take a deep breath, letting it fill my lungs before I exhale slowly. The air in the room seems to hover, thick with anticipation.

"Daniel," I say again, my voice clear and resonant, betraying none of the turmoil that rages within me. "I need you to listen to me. What we had… it's over. It's been over for a long time, and it's never coming back."

He blinks, his sandy blonde hair falling into his eyes as he tilts his head, perplexed. "Sophia, what are you?—?"

"Please," I cut him off, not unkindly but firmly, "no interruptions. This is hard enough as it is." I watch as bewilderment takes hold of his features, the lines of his face deepening as if he's trying to translate my words into a language he understands.

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