Page 10 of Entwined
I hesitated, the weight of his request pressing down on me. I could feel the truth hovering in the air between us, dark and menacing, ready to shatter the fragile peace we had built. I was about to relent, to let him tell me the horrible things his family did to mine, the actions that set a lifetime of financial struggle in motion. I had made sacrifices to prevent that fate, sacrifices that now seemed so small in the face of what Colson was about to reveal.
But something inside me recoiled, a primal instinct to protect myself, to protect the life growing inside me. I wasn’t sure I could handle the full weight of the truth, not now, not with Colson so close to the end. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know just how deep the betrayal ran.
My lips parted, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I just looked at him, the man who had been both my tormentor and my savior, the man I had grown to love despite everything. And in that moment, I realized that no matter what he told me, no matter how terrible the truth was, it wouldn’t change how I felt. It wouldn’t change the fact that I loved him, that I was carrying his child, that we were bound together in ways that went far beyond the past.
Colson’s hand tightened around mine, his eyes searching mine for some sign of what I was thinking. I could see the desperation there, the need to unburden himself, to tell me everything before it was too late.
“I’m here,” I finally whispered, my voice barely audible. “I’ll listen.”
And with that, I braced myself for the storm that was about to come, knowing that whatever he told me, it would change everything. But I also knew that no matter how dark the truth was, I would find a way to survive it—because I had to. For him, for our child, for the future that still lay ahead.
Before Colson could say a word, the nurse came in to check on him. He closed his eyes as she did her work, used to being poked and prodded. When she finished, I softly called his name, but his eyes didn’t open. He was asleep. I left him with so many questions swirling in my head.
Chapter 5
I forced back tears as I sat in the sterile, white-walled office, the scent of antiseptic thick in the air. Colson should be here. He should be with me. The thought pounded in my head, echoing in the empty space beside me where he should have been. My throat tightened as I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, trying to pull myself together before the nurse called my name.
"Mrs. Ashworth?" The nurse's voice was soft, almost too gentle, and it made my heart clench even more. I stood on shaky legs and followed her down the cold, dimly lit hallway to the ultrasound room. The walls seemed to close in on me, the silence broken only by the rhythmic click of the nurse's shoes on the tile floor.
Dr. Han stepped into the room, her dark hair pulled back in a high ponytail, her expression calm and professional. "Hello, Josephine," she greeted me warmly, her voice soothing as she prepared the ultrasound machine. I managed a weak smile, my hands trembling as I unbuttoned my pants and lay back on the examination table.
“Oh,” I gasped softly as she squirted the warm gel on my belly, the sensation momentarily distracting me from the anxiety gnawing at my insides.
Dr. Han returned my smile, but it was fleeting. As she moved the ultrasound probe across my skin, her expression shifted, her brows knitting together in a deep frown. My heart skipped a beat, and the room suddenly felt colder, the air heavy with unspoken fear.
“Is something wrong?” I croaked, my voice barely above a whisper, each word laced with dread.
She exhaled loudly, her gaze fixed on the screen. “I suspect a certain condition, but I’d like to run a few more tests to be sure.”
The words hung in the air like a dark cloud, threatening to suffocate me. Dr. Han’s tone was professional, but I could hear the underlying concern, the hesitation in her voice. My world tilted, the edges of my vision blurring as she stepped out of the room.
The door clicked shut, and the dam inside me broke. Sobs tore from my chest, so violent and raw that they left me gasping for breath. My hands clutched at the sides of the table, trying to hold on to something solid as my world crumbled around me. This baby—our baby—was Colson’s legacy, the one bright spot in the darkness that had engulfed our lives. Losing it would be losing him all over again, a double-edged sword that I wasn’t sure I could survive.
Tears streamed down my face, unchecked and relentless, as I cried for the life that hung in the balance, for the future that felt so fragile and uncertain. I cried for Colson, for the man who should have been here with me, holding my hand and telling meeverything would be okay. But he wasn’t here. He was fighting his own battle, a battle we both knew he was losing.
And I was left alone, drowning in my grief, praying for a miracle that felt just out of reach.
The words echoed in my head, a relentless chorus of despair, as I sat on the weathered bench in the park, watching the sun dip below the horizon. The colors bled together in a haze, muted oranges and pinks that did nothing to soothe the turmoil churning inside me. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold on to some semblance of strength, but it was slipping away with every passing moment.
The test results had been rushed, the urgency of the situation forcing me back to the doctor’s office before I even had time to process what was happening. Colson had been at treatment that day, his usual fatigue masking any suspicion.
He didn’t question my sudden need for another appointment, didn’t press me when I lied about needing a follow-up. But I knew he wasn’t stupid. He probably sensed something was wrong, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
The parking lot was empty, the stillness of the afternoon shattered by the scream that tore from my throat. I had screamed until my ears hurt, until my voice was hoarse, and my body shook from the effort. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. My life was unraveling before my eyes, a cruel twist of fate that I couldn’t seem to escape.
Colson didn’t have much time left. The treatments were only buying him days, maybe weeks, but we both knew the end was inevitable. And now… now I was facing the reality of losing not just him, but our child too. The doctor’s words haunted me, a grim prognosis that I couldn’t shake - our baby probably wouldn’t survive outside the womb more than a day or two. I would have to bury them, a tiny life snuffed out before it even had a chance to begin.
In less than a year, I would bury two members of my family.
The choice was agonizing, a bitter pill that lodged in my throat and refused to go down. But it was the right one. The only one. I couldn’t bring a child into this world only to watch them suffer, to watch them die. I couldn’t do that to myself. The pain of that loss would destroy whatever was left of me, and I didn’t know if I had the strength to survive it.
I decided not to tell Colson. It would only break him more, and he was already so fragile. His body was failing, his mind clouded with the weight of his illness. He didn’t need to know, didn’t need to carry this burden along with everything else. I would carry it for both of us, a secret that would die with me.
As the sun finally disappeared, plunging the park into twilight, I felt a cold numbness settle over me. The tears had dried up, leaving only a hollow ache where my heart used to be. I stood slowly, my legs stiff from sitting for so long, and made my way back to the car. The decision had been made, and there was no turning back.
But as I drove home in the gathering darkness, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had lost everything—Colson, our baby, and the future we had dreamed of together. All of it, gone, leaving behind a void that I wasn’t sure I could ever fill.
When I stepped inside, the house was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that wrapped itself around you, squeezing tight. I was still reeling from the news, my thoughts a tangled mess, when Vaughn appeared out of nowhere, nearly making me jump out of my skin. He stepped out of the library, a glass of whiskey in hand, the ice cubes clinking softly as he raised it to his lips.
