No one ever said that it would be this hard

Chapter 19

♾ Jughead ♾

I was up early the next day. So I kissed Betty softly on the forehead before getting out of bed, trying to be quiet. I grabbed a new hoodie, boxers, socks and some jeans before walking over to the bathroom to get dressed. Down in the living room, I grabbed my laptop and tried to write on my book for a bit again, since it was barely 5. I didn't even need to start breakfast yet.

Betty didn't sleep long these days, so when the clock rung six, I closed my laptop and walked over to the kitchen to make some breakfast for us. It had been a productive morning till then though. I was able to write a bit.

Just when I put the scrambled eggs in the pan, I heard Betty yelling my name. As if on instinct, I let everything fall as I made my way to our bedroom. Opening the door, I saw Betty sitting in our bed, clutching her stomach and her grey pants colored red.

"I don't-" she stammered, starting to tear up. I got over to her and just hugged her tight, realization settling in "the baby... I-" she broke off, starting to sob as she held onto me.

"It's fine. It's okay, Betts"

"No, we- the baby..."

"We don't know yet. I'll drive us to the doctor, okay?" She hummed weakly, continuing to cry on my shoulder "do you think that you can walk?" another weak hum. I nodded and then rocked off to the edge of the bed, pulling Betty with me. I stood up first before helping her up. Together we walked down the stairs — and that's when I saw the stove again. There was smoke, not much but a fair amount.

"Shit, the eggs!" I let go of Betty to turn off the stove and drown the pan in water. I might have burned myself with a few oil-water-drops but I didn't care. Besides, it was better then the fire alarm taking over this situation. I don't think I could have control over myself then. I already had problems fighting back the tears. I couldn't possibly cry now, I needed to be there for Betty, help her. I needed to be strong for her.

During the drive to the hospital to get to her gynecologist, I held her hand, giving it a soft squeeze. My other hand was holding the steering wheel in a tight grip, trying to put my irritation somewhere else about this God forsaken situation.

But right now there was still hope, right?

"I'm here, Betts, okay?" I said all over again and again. All the while I was telling myself to not cry. I couldn't help the one tear though — I managed to let it go unnoticed though. Betty kept on staring out of the window, having her knees pulled to her chest. I send her a worried look from time to time but then had to focus back on the road. At the hospital, I held her hand the whole time as I admitted us. Though when it was time to go into the room and see her doctor, Betty didn't want me to go with her.

"Wait," Betty said, putting her hands on my chest "I don't want you to go inside"

"What? I'm not going to leave you alone here" she shook her head.

"I don't want you to see this, Juggy. I'll tell you what happened, okay?"

Maybe I should have protested more. I couldn't just leave her alone like that. Not right now. I had to take care of her. I had to protect her. I was her husband. On the other hand, I had to control myself so much in order to not start shaking and bawling right now that I didn't know if I could hold on any longer.