Page 92 of Burned By the Broken Doctor

“What is it?” I press, my brow furrowing in confusion.

Damon coughs uncomfortably. “June and I thought…maybe now isn't the best time for a honeymoon.”

“Why not?” I ask, genuinely confused.

June clears her throat, her cheeks flushed a delicate pink. “Well, honey,” she begins, “with you being…well, in this condition…”

My head snaps up, a cold dread slithering down my spine. “What condition?” I echo, my voice barely a whisper.

“You’re obviously not feeling?—”

Shaking my head, I refuse their concern. “I’m fine. Dr. Miller said I can leave, and you two better go home and pack your bags. I’m going home to help you with that.”

They look at each other before turning back to me. “You’re sure you’re okay?” Damon asks.

“I’m perfect, brother. I’ll feel better when I don’t ruin your honeymoon the way I ruined the reception.”

“You didn’t ruin anything, Em,” June mumbles, a bright smile on her face. “Let’s go home, right?”

“Yeah. You guys give me a minute.”

About an hour later, I’m walking down the hospital hallway with my family. As we walk toward the exit, Damon asks, “Have you seen Liam since last night?”

“Yes.” I lie, trying to keep my voice steady. “We saw each other first thing this morning.”

“Uncle Liam is here?” Ethan looks up at me. “Can we see him now?”

“No, sweetheart.” I blurt out quickly. I can’t face Liam just yet. “He’s probably too busy, sweetheart. He’s had to let go of a lot of work because of me. We’ll see him later.”

“Pity,” June sighs, her eyes bright with mischief. “I’d have loved to tease him about being all romantic yesterday.”

Before I can respond, Damon clears his throat, his gaze flickering between me and June. “So,” he begins, a hint of seriousness in his voice, “is there something you want to tell us about you and Liam, Em? Something we should know?”

My heart hammers against my ribs. Their concerned yet knowing expressions force me on the defensive. “No, Damon,” I stammer, shaking my head vehemently. “Everything's…fine. We're very okay, remember?”

Damon's gaze holds mine for a beat longer, his expression unreadable. Just as I start to squirm under his scrutiny, he finally breaks into a smile.

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Just looking out for my little sis. But seriously, if there's anything going on, you know you can tell me, right?”

“Of course,” I murmur, a wave of relief washing over me. I still am not ready to face the truth, especially not with them here.

He gives me a look of disbelief, but I quickly walk toward the hospital door, an anxious feeling growing in my chest. I need to leave before Liam sees me. I need time to think, to process everything. As we step outside, I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders. The revelation of my pregnancy looms over me, and I know I can't hide from it forever. But for now, I need to gather my thoughts and figure out what to do next.

I hear the floorboards creak softly outside. Laughter, the clinking of suitcases, and snippets of conversation float toward my room.

Inside my room, I sit on the edge of my bed, holding the test results in my trembling hands. The flimsy paper slip feels heavy, the words “positive pregnancy test” stark against the sterile white background. The words blur as I blink away the tears.

Two weeks. These two tiny weeks have now irrevocably altered the course of my life…forever!

How could this be happening?

A dry sob escapes my lips, morphing into a shaky, hysterical laugh that echoes eerily off the walls of my room.

It feels like a mixture of joy and terror threatens to tear me apart. For years, I’ve dreamt of this —falling in love and having a child with the man I love. But fate has played a cruel joke on me, delivering my wishes in the worst possible way.

Now I have a man I love without the joy of building a life with the man. I have to choose either to abort the baby or to feel the pitter-patter of tiny feet and the overwhelming love that comes with motherhood mixed with heart-breaking excruciating pain every time I stare at our baby, which of course I’ll be raising alone.

Yeah. Fate does have a cruel sense of humor.

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