Shattering Truth

Chapter 8

"Is this what you meant by moving on?" Elena storms out of the bathroom angrily, clutching something in her hand. Her face shows off signs of anger, but there are bits of surprise and fear in her eyes as well.

Jacob looks at her curiously from the couch he's sitting on, his look falling on the thing her fingers are wrapping around, but he can't see clearly what it is.

"What?" He asks confused while studying the changes in the expression of her face.

"This!" She raises her voice and makes few steps towards him, showing whatever she was holding in his hand.

It's is white. Thin and long, like a stick, but it is made out of plastic. His look falls from her face to the object she placed in his hand.

His eyes widen in shock when he realizes he's holding a pregnancy test.

A positive pregnancy test.

There's a pink line exactly where it's supposed to be. There's a pink line in a place where it wasn't so many times before and they wanted it to be. They have been waiting so long for this, and finally it's here, but now - it just doesn't feel right.

"How could you hide this from me?" The next time she speaks her voice is hollow, "It's so cruel..." she swallows those words, making then barely audible.

His look stays glued to the little pink line. "Because I didn't know anything about it," something is stuck in his throat so he barely manages to get those words out, "They never told me anything about a baby."

"How did I not know?" She directs that question to herself more than she does to him, "I missed my period two months in a row. I was gaining weight even though I was barely eating anything," her look wanders all over the room. Her mind played too many tricks on her that she didn't even realize she's pregnant. So many things could have gone wrong, and she wouldn't have even realized it. "I should have known," she whispers, mentally slapping herself for missing out on it.

No more games. She's one in control now.

"Elena..." he says her name softly.

"Don't," she hisses, her eyes becoming still on his face, "I'm going to make an appointment right now, to confirm this," tears are swelling in her eyes, but yet, they don't escape. She turns on her heal, takes the phone, and goes to the bedroom, shutting the door behind herself.

When she opens the front door, he's standing in the hallway, bouncing from one feet to another, nervous as hell, his palms sweating - he wasn't even aware it's possible to sweat in death.

She closes the front door and holds still in front of him, locking her look on his, gently playing with it, but his anticipation falls on her like a heavy weight.

She takes her jacket off and walks past by him without even saying a word, and he follows her. She throws her jacket over a chair, her, who always insisted on keeping it on a hanger, and sits on the edge of the couch. He sits on the other side, waiting for her to be ready to speak.

Some time passes before she speaks, "Well, I am definitely pregnant," she says without looking at him.

Here is it, the moment they've been waiting for so long. It finally came and it's nothing like either of them had imagined it. There's no happiness or ecstasy or kisses or hugs. There's sorrow and pain and emptiness in both of them and between them.

There's a baby on its way, their baby, part of them growing inside of her, and neither of them are looking forward to it - because he won't be there. Both of them share the same reason for not being happy in this anticipated situation, but they let it go unspoken.