Baby Daddy

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚢

There's a way that woman's eyes glaze over that sends chills all over my body when I pass her.

Her eyes are empty and although we've never met, you'd swear we have more in common than every nurse in this hospital.

I swipe a finger under my runny nose before forcing the tips of my fingers into the only pair of jeans I have.

My eyes scrunch when I look up and the space between my eyebrows slightly aches.

A few people; some wearing casts, some bearing bouquets and helium balloons, pass us by as we walk while others rest on benches, looking up at the sky every now and then as they chat and laugh as though they haven't been together for the past year.

I wonder if I should've brought something for him. Flowers would be too cliche, or worse. . . misleading.

So maybe a balloon. Get well soon, it would've said.

But Randall's too good for that. So maybe a hug. Afterall the best way to get over someone is to - Ahh, I'm going about this all wrong.

Deep breath, Kira.

Deep breaths.

I can't help but sneak a glance at him. His unkempt browm hair looks brighter in the sunlight. The loose blue hospital gown makes him look even more distressed and to anyone, he was in a fatal accident.

Have a conscious, I tell myself.

I feel sorry for him as he strains his arms to move the wheelchair.

Oh, this is ridiculous.

And this is more frustrating.

I take a bigger step to get ahead of him and come to a stand in front of the wheelchair.

He lifts his head and my heart flutters at the look he gives me, an unmistakable pout on his plump lips.

I shift my gaze to the sky and cross my arms.

"Special occasion?" He asks, elbows resting on the arms of the wheelchair.

It should faze him that were in the middle of the pathway, him more than me. But, it doesn't, he looks more or less defeated and it makes my heart ache.

Do I really have to do this?

I tilt my head further towards the sky and blink, my hands fisting around the cuffs of my jacket when I pull them out.

Sniffing, I crouch in front of him and pull his hands onto his knees. I almost let go, disappointment crashing me when I come in contact with his freezing fingers.

"You scared me." I say softly, smiling. My lips quivering as I let out a nervous laugh. "I thought you were going to die."

Right in front of me. And if I think about it too much, he did die.

It's not all exactly what I want to say, but there's no harm in telling him that I care.

Randall pulls his hand from mine and before I know it, he swipes his thumb on my cheek. And only then do I feel the wetness on my cheeks.

Ah, the betrayal.

"I'm okay." He simply says. Leaning back, his hazel eyes squint at the sky. His hand is rested on his lap, slightly fisted while the other engulfs my hand in a tight grip.

I want to believe he's okay. Why don't I beleive it?

Is it because I'm not okay? Or is it because I'm finally doing what I was too weak to do a week ago?

I'm letting go and leaving. Even though it's too painful, leaving behind the only trace and connection I have to my baby.

Clearly he doesn't seem to want to see it from my point of view. It was worse watching him, rather than thinking of what he could've been feeling.