Spotlights, cameras, ramps and fame was all she knew. Being the top model in LA Amara Sullivan never knew the lows of life.
While,
Business meetings, sketches, designs and facing bitchy models was all Nathaniel Sinclair had in his life being the ow...
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The sterile scent of the doctor's office clung to the air, a stark reminder of the news that had just shattered my world. I sat on the other side of the room, opposite the doctor, as she calmly dropped the bombshell that would redefine the trajectory of my life.
"You are pregnant," she announced with an air of certainty, her words hanging heavily in the air. My breath caught in my throat, disbelief etched across my face. My hands, previously steady, now trembled in my lap, the gravity of her words sinking in.
Nate's name echoed in my mind like a bitter refrain, an unspoken accusation for a shared responsibility that had taken a catastrophic turn.
"But how?" I stammered, my voice barely audible, a mix of shock and anger swirling within me. I had diligently relied on birth control shots, and the fleeting memory of a single pill Nate had given me seemed to mock my trust.
The doctor, professional and composed, explained the harsh reality. "These shots are 100% effective when taken regularly, and a single pill can't ensure protection. It's not foolproof, especially if not taken consistently after every instance."
It was totally my fault, I had been so careless during my stay at Dubai that I forgot one essential part in my life. I wanted to slap myself.
My dreams of a thriving career shattered as the reality of impending motherhood loomed over me like a storm. Tears welled up in my eyes, not just for the life-changing news but for the future I felt slipping away.
"Do you want to see the baby?" the doctor asked, her demeanor almost jubilant. I followed her numbly to the ultrasound room, where I reluctantly lay on the recliner chair. She squeezed gel over my bare stomach, cold against my skin, as the screen flickered to life, revealing the tiny dot that represented my unborn child.
Dub dub.
"That's the heartbeat," the doctor said with an unwarranted cheerfulness, but for me, it was a haunting rhythm, a reminder of the irreversible decision that loomed ahead.
"I want to terminate the pregnancy," I declared, my voice breaking as I uttered those words. The doctor's eyes widened, betraying a mix of surprise and concern, but she nodded understandingly.
"Are you sure?" she inquired, her gaze searching mine.
"Yes," I replied with a solemn determination that surprised even me.
Minutes later, a nurse entered with a bottle of pills, a glass of water, and a sense of finality. The pill went down reluctantly, a tangible symbol of a choice I never thought I would make. The nurse's instructions hung in the air as she handed me a file, a record of the ordeal that would be etched into the pages of my life.
Alone in the room, I prepared for the physical and emotional storm that awaited me. The wait was excruciating, filled with cramps and pelvic pain that surpassed the throes of any ordinary period. In solitude, I faced the heavy bleeding, a visceral reminder of the choices made and the paths untaken. The doctor, after a thorough check, finally deemed me fit to leave, leaving me with a file that chronicled the chapter I desperately wanted to forget.
