A quiet reflection

ELLA 'S POV

The morning unfurled like a delicate gift, the sky over London painted with soft hues of gold and pink as the sun rose, its gentle rays piercing through the thinning mist. The streets glistened with dew, each droplet catching the light like tiny jewels, and the air carried a fresh, earthy scent mixed with the faint sweetness of early blooms from a nearby garden.

I sat at my favorite table in Thompson’s Brew, the worn wood warm beneath my palms, the large windows framing the world outside in a serene picture. The café was alive with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the comforting warmth of scones baking in the oven, though the smell stirred a faint nausea in me.

My mind drifted as I stared at my untouched tea, the steam rising in lazy curls, lost in thoughts about the life growing inside me, a secret born from the clinic’s mistake with Ethan Caldwell.

The clock ticked steadily on the wall, and Grandma Maria’s radio played a soft telenovela tune, its dramatic notes echoing the turmoil in my heart. I rested my chin in my hand, the cup cooling beside me, my thoughts swirling like the mist outside. The revelation from yesterday at the café, when Ethan stormed in and the truth spilled out, weighed on me.

Grandma knew now, her shock still fresh, and the idea of this baby, his baby, felt like a puzzle I couldn’t solve.

My notebook lay open, its pages blank, the pen idle as my dreams of writing novels slipped further away.

The door creaked open and Lucy stepped in, her colorful scarf trailing behind her, her short black hair slightly disheveled. Her eyes locked onto mine, wide with concern, and she hurried over, having clearly heard the news from Grandma.

“Ella,” she said, her voice gentle as she pulled out a chair and sat across from me. I just spoke with Grandma. She told me about the baby. I can’t believe it happened like that.”

I nodded slowly, my fingers tracing the table’s edge. “It’s true, Lucy. The clinic used Ethan’s sperm by mistake. I didn’t expect this.”

She leaned in, her hands resting on the table, her expression softening. “I know it’s a lot to take in. But Ella, I think you should keep the baby. It’s a part of you now, a new beginning, even if it came in a strange way.”

I looked down at my hands, my voice quiet. “Keep it? I’m not sure if I’m ready. My life feels so different now.”

Lucy reached out, her touch light on my arm. “You’re stronger than you realize. And you don’t have to do it alone. Maybe meeting Ethan today could help. You set that time at South Bank, right? Talk to him, see what he thinks.”

I sighed, the weight of her words settling in. “I agreed to meet him in an hour. I’m scared, Lucy. What if he’s awful about it?”

She smiled warmly, her eyes encouraging. “He might surprise you. Just go with an open heart. I’ll be here when you get back, okay?”

I managed a small nod, the tea growing cold as I prepared myself. The hour approached, and I stepped outside, the morning’s beauty following me to the South Bank.

The Thames shimmered under the sunlight, its surface a mirror for the sky, while tourists wandered with cameras, their laughter mingling with the cries of seagulls overhead.

Ethan waited by the railing, his navy suit impeccable, his dark blonde hair catching the light. His gray-blue eyes found mine, a mix of tension and curiosity in them, and my pulse quickened.

“Ella,” he said, his tone measured as he stepped closer. I’ve been thinking about what happened. We need to discuss this baby.”

I folded my arms, standing firm on the damp path. “I’m not sure if I want you involved, Ethan. Why should I trust you after everything?”

He exhaled slowly, his breath visible in the cool air, and ran a hand through his hair, a hint of unease in the gesture. “I understand your hesitation, Ella. This isn’t what I planned either. But it’s my child too. I’d like us to consider co-parenting, supporting each other, financially and otherwise. I want to do this right.”

I turned my gaze to the river, its flow steady and calming, my heart thudding. “Support? You humiliated me at that Brixton event, calling me insignificant. How can I believe you’ve changed?”

He lowered his eyes to the ground, the leather of his shoes reflecting the light, then met my gaze again, a softness creeping in. “I regret that, Ella. It was unfair and I’m sorry. Let’s try to make this work for the baby’s future, not our past.”

The water lapped against the shore, a gentle rhythm, and I felt a flicker of something, maybe hope, toward him, though I pushed it down.

“I need more than words. Let’s go to the clinic again, confirm it properly.”

He nodded, a quiet agreement, and we walked together, the city’s pulse surrounding us.

The South London Women’s Clinic rose before us, its white walls stark against the sky, the antiseptic scent hitting me as we entered. The hum of machines and the click of a receptionist’s keyboard filled the air.

Dr. Patel welcomed us, her kind smile a contrast to the sterile room. She guided us to an examination area, the crinkly paper on the table rustling as I sat. A bright baby poster on the wall caught my eye.

“Ella,” she said, her voice steady as she reviewed the screen. We’ve confirmed it. You’re six weeks along, and the pregnancy is progressing well. It’s real.”

I pressed a hand into my stomach, a tear slipping down my cheek. “It’s real. I don’t know if I can do this.”

She placed a hand on mine, her touch reassuring. “Take your time, Ella. You have options, and support. Think it through, I'm really sorry about this and Thank you for not ruining the clinic's reputation, I'll forever be grateful.”

We left, the clinic’s chill lingering, and my phone rang, an unknown number. I answered, my voice unsteady. “Hello?”

A cold, sharp voice cut through. “I know about your baby, Ella. You can’t keep it hidden.”

I froze, my breath catching. “Who are you? What do you want?”

She laughed, the sound icy. “You’ll find out. Watch your back. You're not as safe as you think.”