HEAT |OMEGAVERSE| ⚣ ✔️

The Talk

JASPER'S POV

"I'll abort it," I say, my voice breaking.

I can't bring myself to look up at Alex. I should have waited another thirty minutes for the bus to arrive at the stop earlier. The weight of my decision hangs heavily in the air, and the silence between us feels almost unbearable.

"Hey," Alex replies in a soft and comforting voice. His tone is gentle, almost as if he's afraid that speaking too loudly might shatter me.

I reluctantly look up at him, and he takes a few steps closer to me, filling the gap between us. His presence feels warm and reassuring, and I can see the concern etched on his face. He reaches out and gently places a hand on my shoulder, offering silent support.

I can't speak, unsure of what to say, fearful of speaking the wrong things. The words are stuck in my throat, tangled with my emotions. Alex seems to understand my silence. His eyes soften as he waits patiently, giving me the space I need.

"I-" Alex cuts me me off, and looks me in the eyes.

"You don't have to do anything that you don't want to." His words confuse me. Typically, in a situation of this sort, the Alpha is the one making the decision. I glance up at him, searching his face for any sign of doubt or hesitation, but all I see is sincerity. It's as if he's giving me a choice, a luxury I'm not used to. His calm demeanor and gentle tone make me feel a flicker of hope, even in the midst of my confusion.

"I don't?"

"No Jasper, it's your body and ultimately your choice of what you want to do." His facial expressions don't change, holding the same comfort and sincerity.

I sigh a small breath of relief and walk over to my small couch, taking a seat on it. The cushions, worn from years of use, feel familiar and comforting. The fabric is a soft, faded blue, with a few patches where the threads have started to fray. It's not much, but it's mine, and it grounds me in the moment.

Alex follows me to the couch and sits on the opposite end of it. The cushions sink slightly under his weight, and the space between us feels both intimate and distant. His presence is reassuring, yet I can't help but feel the gravity of the situation pressing down on me.

"Well, what if I kept the baby, what would I do? And how would I be able to afford anything?" I ask Alex genuinely. It's a valid concern, thinking about the practicalities of raising a child and the financial implications that come with it. Alex listens attentively, his eyes showing understanding as we delve into the possibilities together.

"I would be able to give you support, considering you are carrying my child," he replies, his voice filled with sincerity. "We could figure things out together. You're not alone in this." His words offer a ray of hope, making the daunting future seem a bit more manageable.

"And if I don't want to keep it?" I ask, a tinge of nerves showing through in my voice. The uncertainty of the situation weighs heavily on me, and I can't help but wonder about the different paths my life could take from here.

"Well then again, that would be your choice, and I'd be willing to cover any costs that you need to get the procedure done. I want you to feel supported no matter what decision you make. This is a big decision, and I want you to know that I'm here for you every step of the way."

How could he be there for me? He barely knows me. The typhoon of anxiety swallows me again, and my wounded heart wants to believe that it's all too good to be true. I want to trust his words and find comfort in his offer, but the fear of disappointment casts a long shadow. It's an unending struggle between optimism and skepticism, and right now, the scales seem weighted towards skepticism.