Canvas & Crumbs

XX

Our Turning Points

The weeks after the breakup with North pass in a haze of routine and emotional recovery.

I keep myself busy at the bakery, focusing on the daily grind to distract from the lingering heartache. But lately, I've been feeling unusually tired and nauseous, symptoms that seem to persist despite my efforts to ignore them.

One afternoon, as I'm cleaning up the kitchen after a busy morning, the exhaustion hits me harder than usual. I sit down on a stool, trying to steady my breathing, when my mother walks in, her eyes noting my pale complexion.

"Aurelia, you look. . . unwell, dear," she says gently, her concern evident. "Are you feeling alright?"

I force a weak smile, shaking my head. "I'm sorry, Mom. I'm just tired. It's been a long week for me."

She doesn't look convinced, and her concern only deepens. "You're overworking yourself, Aurelia. Maybe you should see a doctor, just to be sure."

I hesitate, feeling a surge of anxiety. I've been avoiding it, hoping that the symptoms would pass, but deep down, I know I need to face the truth. I nod slowly. "Hmm. . . okay, then, I'll make an appointment."

A few days later, after a visit to the doctor, I get the confirmation I've been dreading.

I'm pregnant.

The news hits me with a wave of shock and disbelief, mingled with a deep sense of fear and uncertainty. I am aware that I have to tell my parents, and the thought of their reaction fills me with apprehension.

That evening, as we sit around the dinner table, I struggle to find the right moment to bring it up. My parents chat about their day, their voices a comforting backdrop to the turmoil inside me.

Finally, I take a deep breath and decide to speak up.

"Mom, Dad, there's something I need to tell you," I say, my voice trembling slightly.

My parents exchange a curious glance, their expressions turning serious as they sense the gravity of my tone.

"I'm pregnant," I say, the words escaping in a rush. "I just found out, and I. . . I don't know what to do."