Elena's phone buzzed again, a relentless reminder that the world outside the café hadn't stopped spinning, even if her own life had come to a grinding halt. She stared at Mark's message: "Please. Don't shut me out. I'm here."
Her hand trembled as she typed a reply, then deleted it. Typed again. Deleted again. Finally, she forced herself to press "Call."
The line rang once… twice… three times. Then a familiar, slightly ragged voice answered:
"Elena?"
"Hi… Mark," she whispered, her voice trembling more than she wanted.
There was a pause. She could almost feel the tension vibrating through the phone.
"I… I got your message," Mark said finally. "Can we… meet? I think we need to talk. Face to face."
Elena exhaled shakily. She had avoided him since discovering the test, retreating into a fragile cocoon of fear and disbelief. But now, the reality wouldn't wait. She had to face it.
"Okay," she said softly, almost too softly. "Where?"
"Your place. In an hour?"
Elena hesitated. An hour… I don't even know what to say. But there was no turning back now.
The café buzzed around her, oblivious to the storm inside her chest. She gathered her things, forcing herself to move mechanically—bag over shoulder, coat zipped, heart pounding. Each step toward the door felt heavy, weighted with unspoken words and unshed tears.
When she arrived home, the apartment was quiet. Too quiet. She sat on the couch, wrapping her hands around a mug of untouched coffee, staring at the clock. The minutes ticked by, each second amplifying her anxiety.
Finally, a knock at the door.
She hesitated, breath shallow. Just open it. Just… face it.
Mark's familiar figure stood there, hesitant yet hopeful. His hair was messy, his shirt slightly wrinkled, and his eyes—those eyes that once made her heart race—were clouded with worry.
"Elena…" he started, his voice soft, almost fragile. "I… I don't know where to start."
She swallowed. "You can start by sitting down."
He stepped inside, careful not to invade her space, yet close enough that she could feel his presence. They sat opposite each other, the coffee table between them acting as a fragile buffer between two worlds that had collided.
"Okay," Mark said finally, rubbing the back of his neck. "I saw the message. I knew something was wrong. And… I guess I already know what it is."
Elena's chest tightened. He knows… but does he understand?
"I'm pregnant," she said, the words barely above a whisper.
Mark's eyes widened slightly, but his reaction wasn't anger. Not yet. Relief? Fear? She couldn't tell.
"Pregnant…" he repeated slowly. Then his gaze softened. "Elena… we can figure this out. Together."
A tear slipped down her cheek. She wiped it hastily, embarrassed. "You… you don't get it. I didn't want this. I… I'm not ready. I can't… I don't know if I can do this."
Mark leaned forward slightly. "I get it. I really do. I'm scared too."
Elena looked at him, searching his eyes for honesty, for any sign that he was as lost as she felt. She saw it. A flicker of fear, but also determination.
"Mark… this changes everything," she said, her voice trembling. "Our lives… my career… everything. How can we… handle it?"
Mark hesitated, then exhaled. "I don't know. But I do know this—I want to be there. I don't want to lose you… or our child."
She wanted to scream, cry, laugh—all at once. The emotions tangled inside her, a storm of confusion and longing.
"I don't know if I can forgive myself for not being ready," she admitted.
"You don't have to forgive yourself," he said gently. "You're human. We're human. Mistakes, accidents… life happens. But we can still choose love. And support. And… us."
Elena's heart ached. She wanted to believe him, wanted to feel the warmth of possibility, but fear gripped her tightly. What if this ruins everything?
He reached out, hesitating for a moment before placing a hand on hers. It was a small gesture, but it carried a weight she hadn't expected. His touch was grounding, reminding her that she wasn't entirely alone in this.
"You're scared," he said softly. "And that's okay. But I'm here. I won't leave. Not now. Not ever."
Her eyes filled with tears she tried to hold back. "I… I don't know if I can do this with you," she admitted. "I don't know if I can do this… at all."
Mark's grip didn't falter. "Then we'll figure it out… step by step. One day at a time."
Silence fell between them. The ticking of the clock, the faint hum of traffic outside—it all felt surreal, like the world had paused just for them.
And yet, beneath the fear, a fragile seed of hope began to sprout. A tiny whisper that maybe… just maybe… everything wouldn't fall apart.