The bedroom fell into a heavy, suffocating quiet as the three words settled into the air.
Eliezer stood frozen beside the bed, his hand still resting on his leather medical bag, his knuckles turning stark white against the dark grain. The shock hit him first—a sharp, cold spike of realization that Jillyanna, the fiercely guarded woman he had quietly loved for years, was indeed carrying a child. But right on the heels of that shock came a crushing, bitter wave of self-disappointment. He felt a visceral disgust toward his own cowardice. For years, he had operated under the comforting delusion that there would always be time. He had convinced himself that staying by her side as a reliable, indispensable friend and family doctor was enough, waiting for the "right moment" to declare his feelings.
Now, looking at the towering, dark-haired man sitting possessively at the edge of her mattress, Eliezer knew the right moment had passed him by forever.
