“I’ll see you in a month, unless you need me sooner,” Dr. Mae says, as I walk to the door. I give her a tight smile and nod. I still don’t know how I feel about it. Over the past month our meetings have been fewer and fewer. Now it’ll be a month before I see her again. Unless I have a relapse. I haven’t though, since switching meds. Nothing other than normal emotional reactions, as the doctor says.

I feel insecure, but I suppose it’s normal. There aren’t any guarantees in life. My eyes fall to the floor as I shut the door behind me. Like Kane. I haven’t gathered up the courage to call him. I haven’t spoken a word to him in weeks. When I did talk to him before, it was just sobs and pleas to hold me or leave me.

I can’t imagine what his reaction would be if I called him now. If I said I was better and asked him to take me back.

He said he loved me. I feel an unbearable pain in my heart as a thought occurs to me.

I never said it back. I never told him how I felt.

As I walk down the stairs to leave the office building, I pass the clinic. I purse my lips remembering what Dr. Mae said about the nausea. I may have a stubborn bug.

Whatever it is, I need this shit taken care of. I want to eat. I’m hungry all the fucking time now. I pull the doors open and feel relief wash over me. Not a soul in the waiting room. Good, I can get in and I can get out.

I walk straight to the counter and see a young woman with blonde hair pulled into a sleek ponytail and coral painted nails tapping on the keys of her laptop. After a short moment, she looks up at me with a bright smile and asks, “Can I help you?”

“Hi there, I think I have the flu or something, and I just wanted a checkup.”

“Absolutely, I just need you to fill out these forms first, please.” She chomps on a piece of gum in her mouth and hands me a clipboard with a pen clamped at the top. I forgot about this shit. I just want to walk back there and get a prescription. Instead I give her a small smile and walk back to the waiting area to take a seat. I scroll through the lines and fill out the bare minimum.

I stare at the emergency contacts section for a long time. I want to put Kane down; I have no one else.

I want to call him, but I’m scared. I don’t know what I’d do if he’s moved on. I take in a shaky breath and calm my emotions.

I fucking love him. I can’t deny it anymore. Whether it’s right or wrong, I don’t know.

But I do love him. I just need to gather up the courage to tell him. I pick up my phone and click it on and then off. Not now. Right now I need to get some meds to get rid of this fucking bug.

I fill out five fucking pages of the same thing and wait an ungodly amount of time before I’m called back. At least the doctor is there in the hall waiting for me.

“Miss Ivanov. Nice to meet you.” He ushers me through the door to an exam room and then says, “Have a seat.”

I hop up onto the exam table with crinkly paper on top. It still feels unsanitary to me, though.

“So what brings you in today, Ava?” The doctor is an old man. He has to be in his 60s, if not older. The lines around his eyes make him seem approachable and kind. He has the palest blue eyes; they remind me of my father. My heart swells with cheerful memories and then the happiness dims.

I push the thoughts away and return to the present. “I think I have a bug. I’ve been having a difficult time holding food down for a month or so now.”

“I see. Any other symptoms with your nausea? Sore throat? Indigestion?”

I shake my head no. He takes a quick look down at my tummy and asks, “Is there a chance that you could be pregnant?”

His question steals the life from me. Everything stills and my breath halts in my chest. Those fuckers gave me so many shots, the assholes who drugged me, tattooed me and chipped me, but I know they said one was birth control. I know they did. They weren’t talking to me, but it would make sense.

“Would you like to take a test?” he asks, snapping me out of the painful memory.

“Please,” I answer without thinking. He reaches over to a cupboard above a small sink and grabs a small plastic cup. He’s a short man so he has to stretch to reach. I hesitantly take it and exit the room absentmindedly.

Why the fuck didn’t this cross my mind before? Mid-walk I’m struck with horror.

“Pills!” I yell in the hallway, like a fucking lunatic. The doctor exits the exam room and stares at me with his eyebrows raised. I dig in my purse and pull out the prescription bottle. I shove them into his hands like they’re poison.

He stares at the bottle for the longest fucking time. He rotates it and takes his time reading every last fucking word.

My heart won’t beat until I hear him tell me something. I need to know if I hurt my baby. If my own fucking problems hurt my child before he was even born.

Finally, the doctor gives me a smile and hands the bottle back as he reassures me. “You’ll be fine. And so will the baby, if you’re pregnant.” He walks a few steps and gestures to an open door.

“Thank you,” I say just above a murmur. My hand rests subconsciously on my belly.

I close the door and take a single breath before my skirt’s around my ankles.

The stream hits my hand and I cuss before getting as much urine as I can into the tiny cup. My nerves are getting the best of me, but I know it’s true. It all makes sense.

I wipe down and wash my hands before wiping the outside of the cup and staring at it. It’s a tiny cup of pee and it could tell me that my world is about to change forever.

It only takes a minute once I’m back into the room for the colors to start showing.

Two lines.

“Congratulations! We’ve found the source of your nausea. It usually eases up around the second trimester.” The old man gives me a smile.

“How far along am I?” I ask. That matters. That really fucking matters.

“Well, that’s hard to say. You’ll have to make an appointment with your gynecologist for an ultrasound for more specificity.”

I nearly cringe. Technically I have one now. But I haven’t gone to see them for anything other than to pee in a cup and take blood. I had to make sure I was healthy after everything I'd been through, after all. But they never said a damn thing about being pregnant.

Maybe it didn’t show up at the time. Maybe I was too newly pregnant and that’s why.

I fucking hope that’s why.

Anxiety creeps up on me. I’m pregnant. My hands hover over my growing baby. I’m going to be a mother. Warmth and happiness flow through me. I lean back against the wall.

Everything is going to be okay. I’m going to do everything I can to give this baby the best possible life.

I don’t know how Kane will react. Tears prick at my eyes. He may not want me, and he may not want this baby. There’s a small chance this baby isn’t even his.

I don’t care.

I brush my tears away and square my shoulders. I’m not going to put this off. I’m going to make that appointment as soon as I get home.

I won’t be that woman. I won’t be weak. I won’t be scared. And I’m sure as fuck not going to let Kane’s reaction do anything to stop me from being the best mother I can be.

I won’t let the past ruin my future. I won’t do it.

I’m not broken. I’m a survivor. I splay my hand on my lower belly. I’ll be strong for this baby. I’m going to give him everything I can.