Chapter 5

Evelyn's POV

"I've already had finance reinstate the funding for the building expansion."

He looked at me, his expression gentle.

"Evelyn, I was too reactive that day. Serena's condition is unpredictable, and I panicked. Forgive me this once. Please."

That was Ethan, exactly as he'd always been.

One hand hits you, the other holds out something sweet.

He was sure I couldn't leave. Sure that a little humility from him and I'd fold back into his arms the way I always had.

I looked at the document. I didn't pick it up.

A dull, dragging ache had started deep in my abdomen.

These past few days, the emotional strain and exhaustion had been catching up with me. Something had felt wrong in my body for a while now.

"Ethan, if-"

I raised my eyes, choosing my words carefully.

"If I were pregnant, would you want that?"

His knife paused over the steak.

He glanced up. His brow creased, almost imperceptibly.

"Evelyn, we're not married yet. I don't want any surprises right now. And honestly, if Serena found out we were expecting, it would be a serious setback for her. Let's hold off on that for a few more years."

My heart sank all the way to the floor.

He didn't want a baby. Not because he wasn't ready. Because of how it might affect Serena.

Then his phone lit up on the table, buzzing repeatedly. The screen read: Serena.

He answered on the first vibration. His face went taut immediately.

"Serena? What's wrong? Where are you? San Diego? Why did you go to San Diego?"

Through the phone came the sound of sobbing, raw, frantic, breathless.

"Ethan, I'm so scared... it's so dark here, and the thunder... I want to die, I actually want to die..."

"Don't do anything. I'm on my way right now."

He was already on his feet, jacket in hand, moving toward the exit.

"Ethan."

I said his name. Quietly. Evenly.

"Today is my birthday."

He stopped.

He turned back and looked at me, and there was something in his expression, something impatient, something already half gone.

"Evelyn. This is a life or death situation. Serena's in crisis in San Diego, I have to go. Take this card and treat yourself to something. Be good. Don't make this harder."

He dropped a black card on the table and walked out of the restaurant without looking back.

I sat alone in the rooftop restaurant, watching the lights of New York shimmer beyond the glass.

The ache in my abdomen was deepening. It had become something insistent, something that felt like it was slowly pulling away from me.

I pressed my hand over my stomach. Cold sweat gathered at my temples.

I didn't touch the black card.

I just sat there, looking at the perfectly cut steak Ethan had prepared for me before he left.

Nausea rose in my throat.

I pushed back my chair and made my way unsteadily to the restroom.

In the bathroom stall, I looked down.

There was a dark stain of red on my underwear.

The first sign of a threatened miscarriage.

I leaned back against the cold tile wall and closed my eyes.

I didn't go to the hospital. I went to a pharmacy instead, bought medication to help maintain the pregnancy and something for the pain, and got through it on my own.

I didn't tell Ethan.

What would have been the point? The most likely response would have been just take care of it. I can't have Serena upset right now.

Ethan stayed in San Diego with Serena for three full days.

On the fourth day, he brought her back to New York.

Serena seemed more like herself again. She even offered to go to the school and apologize to the children.

I didn't try to stop her. I knew it wouldn't have mattered.

Serena spent ten minutes in the art therapy room. When she came back out, her face had gone white.

"Ethan..."