The Ex-Husband of Alice Langley

2

TAYLOR SWIFT
The next day, Alice and I sit in the OB/GYN waiting room. The sterile smell of antiseptic lingers in the air, and the soft murmur of other patients talking mixes with the occasional sound of pages turning in magazines. Alice is quiet beside me, nervously fidgeting with the hem of her jacket. I haven't pressed her about how this happened—though, of course, I understand the how—but more about the circumstances, what led her to this moment. I haven't asked, and she hasn't offered. Maybe it's still too raw.

When she asked me to come with her, I didn't hesitate. I couldn't let her face this alone, especially with everything else she's juggling. The truth is, I'm both anxious and curious. The entire situation is surreal. Here I am, sitting next to the daughter I gave up, about to witness her moving forward with her own family, and I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that she's pregnant.

Alice glances at me, her fingers twisting the strap of her purse. "Thanks for coming with me," she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

I smile gently, trying to ease her nerves. "Of course. You don't have to go through this alone."

Her gaze drops to her lap, and I notice the tension in her jaw. "I didn't want to ask, but... I didn't know who else to turn to."

"You can always ask me," I reassure her. "I'm here for you."

She gives a small nod, though her eyes remain downcast. The silence between us is thick, and I can't help but wonder about the story behind this pregnancy. There's so much I don't know about her life, and it feels strange not being able to piece everything together. But I decide to let her open up in her own time.

The nurse calls Alice's name, and we both stand. She clutches her purse like a lifeline as we walk down the hall toward the exam room. It's a small gesture, but I can feel the weight of her anxiety. I'm not sure what to say, but I'm determined to stay by her side through it all.

Once inside the exam room, Alice takes a seat on the examination table, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the paper sheet beneath her. I sit in the chair beside her, still unsure how to approach this conversation. The doctor walks in, breaking the silence of the room.

The doctor, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a calm demeanor, greets us warmly. "Good morning, Alice. I see you're here for your eight-week checkup." She glances at me with a polite smile before focusing on Alice again. "Shall we get started?"

Alice nods, her face pale, eyes fixed on the floor. She's not herself today. I feel her anxiety in the way she sits rigidly on the exam table, shoulders tense. I stay silent, offering my presence as the doctor begins asking the routine questions.

"Have you experienced any morning sickness?" the doctor asks, glancing at her clipboard.

Alice gives a small, bitter laugh. "Yeah. A lot, actually."

"I see. We'll check on that today. Any unusual cramping, bleeding, or pain?"

Alice shakes her head. "No, nothing like that."

The doctor nods, making notes before glancing between us. "Is this your first pregnancy, Alice?"

"No, it's my second," she replies softly, still not looking up. I instinctively reach out, my hand finding hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. She flinches at first, but then her fingers wrap around mine.

"Alright," the doctor says, oblivious to the subtle exchange. "Let's take a quick look and make sure everything's going well."

As the doctor preps for the ultrasound, I watch Alice carefully. She looks distant, lost in her thoughts. I wonder what's going through her mind right now. Is it fear? Regret? Hope? I know she's trying to stay composed, but I can see how much this moment is weighing on her.