I Won’t Continue down This Journey

On the day of my prenatal appointment, I signed the consent form to terminate my pregnancy right in front of Scott Clement.

He did not notice. He was too busy discussing baby names with my student, Vanessa Basch.

The nurse called my name three times, but neither of them heard her.

I walked over to Scott. Only then did he look up. His tone was as casual as if he were asking what I wanted for lunch.

“Vanessa thinks both of these names are good. Pick whichever one you like.”

I suddenly smiled.

I had carried this baby for twenty-three weeks, yet my husband and my student had chosen the names. All I had to do was pick one.

Right, it was totally normal.

After all, for the past six months, they had decided what music to play for the baby, what color to paint the nursery, and even which brand of formula to buy.

I opened the Notes app on his phone and added a line beneath the two names.

[There’s no need to choose anymore.]

Scott frowned, but before he could ask what I meant, Vanessa’s phone rang.

She listened for barely fifteen seconds before her expression turned grim.

“Dr. Scott, the cytokine levels in Sample Three are elevated again. There might be a problem with the vector.”

Scott immediately rose to his feet, nearly dropping his coat in his haste.

“We’re going back to the lab.”

He had taken a few steps before he remembered that I was still sitting there.

“Natasha, I’ll have the driver take you home. The project is at a critical stage, so you’ll have to finish the appointment on your own.”

Resting a hand on the slight swell of my belly, I asked, “Do you remember what today is?”

Scott glanced at his phone.

“Thursday.”

I said nothing more.

Today was our fifth wedding anniversary. It was also the day of the detailed ultrasound the doctor had scheduled for our baby.

I had added the appointment to his calendar a month ago.

Before we went to sleep last night, I had reminded him that no matter what happened at the lab, he was not to leave me there alone today.

He had been answering emails on his laptop at the time. Without even looking up, he said he understood.

It was true that he understood perfectly well, but he just did not care.

Standing beside him, Vanessa looked at me apologetically.

“Mrs. Clement, I’m sorry. The project really can’t spare Dr. Scott right now. Why don’t I stay here with you?”

She offered to stay, but she already had Scott’s coat in her hands, ready to leave with him.

My gaze settled on the silver watch around her wrist.

It was the watch I had given Scott for his thirtieth birthday.

It was a limited edition, with the date we first met engraved on the back.

Two months ago, he told me he had sent it away to be serviced.

Apparently, it had found its way onto Vanessa’s wrist instead.

Scott followed my gaze. A flicker of unease passed across his face.

“She can’t check her phone in the cleanroom, so I let her borrow it to keep track of the time. Don’t read too much into it.”

I had not even asked, yet he had already leaped to her defense.

Vanessa hurriedly took off the watch, fumbling with the clasp.

“Mrs. Clement, please don’t misunderstand. Dr. Clement insisted that I wear it.”

She placed the slightest emphasis on the word “insisted,” but it sounded loud and clear in my ears.

I took the watch and wiped the face with my thumb.

The sweet scent of her hand cream still lingered on it.

“There’s nothing to misunderstand.”

I slipped the watch into my purse and smiled at them.

“You should get back to the lab. Don’t let me hold up the experiment.”

Scott appeared relieved.

“Natasha, you’ve finally learned to be understanding.”

At that moment, I suddenly felt a movement in my belly.

The baby must have kicked me, as if asking, “Mommy, how much longer are you going to put up with this?”