STORM - (Intersex)

CHAPTER 8

TYLER

It's been hell...

These past two months have been a whirlwind of emotions. Clara is now three months pregnant, and the mood swings are intense: one moment she's irritable, the next she's overjoyed, then suddenly she's in tears, and sometimes, unpredictably, intensely affectionate. Despite the emotional rollercoaster, I've attended every scan, watching our baby grow strong and healthy. We had even discussed discovering the baby's gender together—until today.

"No, Tyler! We are not finding out!" Clara insists, her voice echoing slightly in the confines of her office.

"But we already agreed on this!" I protest, frustration colouring my tone. We're supposed to be enjoying a peaceful lunch break, but instead, we're revisiting the contentious issue of our baby's gender.

"It's final, Tyler." Her voice firms, signalling the end of the discussion, but then she launches into another explosive topic. "And another thing...WHERE THE FUCK IS THE BABY GOING TO LIVE?!" Her sudden outburst leaves me groaning inwardly.

"You tell me!" I reply, rolling my eyes, feeling the weight of the unresolved issue between us.

The question of where our child will live has been a particularly sensitive topic. Clara's house has ample space for a nursery, but that arrangement means I'd be relegated to visiting.

"I have the room at my place," I say, trying to keep my voice calm. "But what's your plan for when I come to see them?"

This conversation has circled many times, and it feels like we're on the brink of making some hard decisions. I just hope we can find a middle ground without further straining what's between us.

It's as if Clara can read my mind. Her voice softens, reflective. "I'd like to spend a lot of time with them, be there for every step..."

An idea suddenly strikes me, bold yet seemingly perfect given our circumstances. "Why don't we just move in together? We're practically living out of each other's places anyway. You have my stuff; I have yours. Let's just find a place together!" I suggest, the words tumbling out in my earnestness.

She doesn't respond immediately, taking a thoughtful bite of her sandwich instead. Observing her, I notice her slight baby bump—undeniably cute—and it strengthens my resolve.

"Wait—you do want to move in together? Or should we look for a new place together?" I press, seeking clarification.

"Don't be ridiculous," she retorts with a scoff, still not looking up from her meal. "Your place is too cramped, and I don't expect you to just move into mine. Let's buy a house together."

Her glare is intense as she meets my gaze, but I'm so accustomed to it by now it hardly fazes me.

"Okay, fine," I concede with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood. "At this point, we might as well get married."

I expect a laugh or a sarcastic retort, but instead, I hear a sniffle. I look up, surprised by the sudden shift in mood.

"So, marrying me is a joke to you?!" Clara's voice breaks slightly, her question loaded with hurt.

I realize my attempt at humour might have crossed a line, and I hurry to correct the misunderstanding, my heart sinking at the thought of upsetting her.

Seeing her eyes well up with tears, even as she continues to nibble on her sandwich, tugs at my heartstrings. I stand and wrap my arms around her, pulling her into a comforting embrace.

"Hey, no, it's not a joke at all," I assure her gently, trying to calm the waves of emotion rolling off her. I flash her a reassuring smile and plant a soft kiss on her pouty lips, coaxing a giggle from her. "How about we make tonight a movie night, just relax together?"