Page 24 of Broken Vows

The room tilts sideways as realization hits. I grip the counter, staring at my reflection in the mirror. The pale face looking back at me holds the same wide-eyed panic I feel rising in my chest.

I reach into the back of the closet, behind the extra shampoo bottles and old makeup bags, to where I’d hidden a small box months ago. Back when Jeremy and I were still trying for that future we’d planned. Back when we thought we had forever.

The pregnancy test feels heavy in my trembling hands. How many of these have I taken over the years? Always negative. Always followed by Jeremy’s gentle “Next time, baby. It’ll happen when it’s meant to.”

Three minutes. That’s what the instructions say. Three minutes to find out if my life is about to change all over again.

I pace the small bathroom, counting tiles, counting seconds, counting heartbeats. The test sits on the counter like a time bomb. Through the window,

When the timer on my phone finally chimes, I almost can’t look. I almost don’t want to know.

But I force myself to turn, force myself to pick up the plastic stick that holds my future in its tiny window.

Two lines.

Clear as day.

Positive.

My eyes find my reflection again, but this time the face looking back at me holds a different kind of panic. Because this isn’t just about me anymore.

I’m pregnant.

Chapter Fifteen

Hot water poundsagainst my shoulders as I press my forehead against the shower wall. Steam fills the bathroom, but it does nothing to quiet the chaos in my mind. How am I supposed to tell him? How do you even start that conversation?

The water runs down my face, mixing with tears I didn’t realize I was crying. All those months we tried, all those negative tests, and now… now that we’re over, now that he’s gone, my body decides it’s time?

I turn the water temperature up higher, as if I could burn away the reality of my situation. My hand drifts to my stomach. There’s a life growing inside me. Our child. A piece of us that will exist even though we don’t anymore.

After the shower, wrapped in a towel, I force down a piece of dry toast. The nausea isn’t as bad when I eat something plain, keep my stomach from getting too empty. Mom used to say that about morning sickness too–one of the many pieces of advice she’d shared before cancer took her.

My feet carry me to my art room before I consciously decide to go there. The door creaks as I push it open–how long has it been? Dust motes dance in the beam of light as I pull open the blinds. The room smells of dried paint and possibility.

A blank canvas sits on my desk, patient, waiting. Like it knew I’d come back, eventually. I grab a pencil, letting muscle memory guide my hand. No pressure, just simple lines. A cardinal takes shape under my strokes–like the ones I see at Mom’s grave. A butterfly joins it, delicate wings spread in flight.

Mom would know what to do about the baby. She’d hold me while I cried, then make tea and help me figure out a plan. But she’s gone. My dad… well he’s also gone.

I was five when he left. Old enough to remember his laugh, the way he’d swing me up onto his shoulders, but too young to understand why he never came back. Mom found out he was cheating with his secretary–such a cliché it almost seems made up. He moved to California with her, started a new family. Never called, never wrote.

Sometimes I wonder if he ever thinks about me. If he knows mom died. If he cares. Twenty-five years of silence says probably not. I may try to find him one day.

I prop the finished piece against the wall, studying it. Two creatures that shouldn’t go together–a cardinal and a butterfly–sharing the same space peacefully.

My hands shake slightly as I pull out my phone and open FaceTime. Lilly’s face appears after two rings.

“Hey stranger! I was just about to–wait, are you in your art room?”

I nod, trying to smile. “Yeah, I… Lil, I need to tell you something.”

Her expression shifts immediately to concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” My voice catches. Come on, Alexis. Just say it.

“I’m pregnant,” I whisper, the words tumbling out just as a shadow falls across my doorway.

The metallic clatter of keys hitting the floor makes me flinch. I look up to find Jeremy frozen in the doorframe, one hand still raised where his keys had been. His face drained of color.

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