Chapter 3

The cab smelled like old leather and petrol.

I sat by the window and stared outside, but I did not see anything. The city lights passed by in long blurry line and my chest felt so tight.

I pressed my palm against my stomach.

Why had I been feeling like this?

For the past few days, I had been feeling strange. Heavy. Nauseous. Tired.

At first I had thought it was stress.

I swallowed hard.

The nausea rose again.

“Are you okay, madam?” the driver asked from the front seat.

“Yes,” I replied quickly. “I’m fine.”

I was not fine.

I had just got divorced. My marriage of four years down the drain just like that. I was anything but fine.

I unlocked my phone and opened my period tracking app without thinking.

The pink screen popped up.

It said I was ovulating.

I frowned.

Then I paused.

My last period….it was unusual.

More of just spotting.

Light. Brownish. Shorter than usual.

I remembered thinking it was strange, but I had been too distracted to care.

A cold thought slipped into my mind.

What if…

My breathing became uneven.

What if I was pregnant?

My heart began to beat faster.

No.

I shook my head immediately.

Don’t do this to yourself.

It was better not to hope than to hope and have your hopes dashed.

Four years of negative tests.

Four years of disappointment.

Four years of crying alone.

I would not do that again especially not now when there was no need to anymore.

“It’s stress,” I whispered to myself.

That had to be it.

The cab stopped at the airport.

I paid the driver and stepped out.

I walked inside without thinking too much. Because if I did , I would simply breakdown or run away and I knew I needed to go through with this.

I went straight to the ticket counter. “Good evening,” the attendant said politely. “Where are you flying to?”

“Anywhere,” I said.

She blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“The next flight leaving. Any city. Any country. I just need a seat.

She studied my face carefully.

“You look pale, ma’am. Are you alright?”

I forced a smile.

“I’m fine. Just tired.”

She typed on her computer.

“There is a flight leaving in one hour and forty minutes.”

“I’ll take it.”

She printed the ticket and handed it to me.

I did not even look at the destination.

I just took it.

I walked to the check-in hall and sat down.

From my peripheral, I spotted a young family. They held a baby that was not more than two years old. She babbled on while her father made funny faces at her.

I smiled bitterly. Maybe it was not in the books for me to have that, a family. Maybe I was just destined to live alone. To die alone.

Not a moment later and the nausea hit again.

Stronger this time. I pressed my hand to my mouth and stood up quickly.

I rushed toward the restroom. I barely made it inside before I bent over the sink and vomited.

It burned.

My eyes watered.

When I finished, I gripped the sink and breathed heavily.

What was wrong with me?

I had not eaten anything bad.

My breasts felt sore. Tender. Heavy.

I touched them lightly and winced.

I had never felt like this before.

Fear began to creep in.

What if…

No.

Stop it.

I washed my mouth and stepped out of the bathroom.

I approached a female airport worker standing nearby.

“Excuse me,” I said softly. “Is there anywhere I can buy a pregnancy test around here?”

She looked at me with kind eyes and a warm smile.

“Yes, ma’am. There’s a small pharmacy kiosk just past security on the right.”

“Thank you,” I said quickly. “Thank you so much.”

I checked my ticket.

I still had an hour before boarding.

Enough time.

I walked quickly to the kiosk.

My hands shook as I asked for two pregnancy test kits.

Two different brands just to be sure.

I was only doing this to calm myself.

There was no way.

There was no way I could be pregnant.

I paid and hurried back to the restroom.

Inside a stall, my hands trembled as I opened both boxes.

This was silly.

I already knew the result.

I used both sticks and placed them carefully aside.

Then I stood there.

Waiting.

Three minutes felt like forever.

I pulled out my small makeup pouch.

I applied a little concealer under my eyes to hide the dark circles from crying.

I fixed my eyeliner.

I arranged my hair.

I breathed in.

I breathed out.

Nothing would happen.

I stepped out of the stall.

Then I halted.

The test strips.

I had forgotten them.

I turned back quickly.

I picked up the first stick.

Two lines.

I blinked.

My vision blurred.

No.

I grabbed the second one.

Two lines. It was clear as day.

My world tilted.

My knees felt weak.

Two lines.

Pregnant.

I stared at them as if they would disappear if I blinked too hard.

My hands began to shake violently.

A soft laugh escaped me.

Then tears followed.

Tears of joy.

Tears of shock.

Tears of pain and confusion.

After four years.

After being called infertile.

After signing divorce papers.

Now?

Now I was pregnant?

“How ironic,” I whispered brokenly.

I slid down slowly against the stall door and covered my mouth.

I was going to have a baby.

Dominic’s baby.

My baby.

What was I supposed to do?

Tell him…Why?

So he could take this child too?

So his mother could suddenly treat me differently?

We were divorced.

He chose another woman.

He chose a son over me.

My tears fell harder.

But beneath the panic… something else grew.

Protectiveness.

This child was mine.

Mine.

I wiped my face slowly and stood up.

I could not fall apart here.

I cleaned both test sticks and placed them carefully into my bag.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, the first boarding announcement echoed through the hall.

That was my flight.

I walked quickly toward the gate.

Before boarding, I paused.

My hands hovered over my phone then I typed quickly before I could change my mind.

“Maybe you deserve to know or maybe you don’t. I’m pregnant. But we are divorced now so you can face your new family. My baby and I will be fine.”

My thumb trembled.

I pressed send.

Then there was a loud thump and at that exact moment I collided into something hard.

Very hard.

My phone flew from my hand and hit the ground.

The screen flickered.

Then went completely blank.

“Oh my God—I’m so sorry.”

The voice was deep, controlled and powerful.

I looked up and suddenly forgot how to breathe.

A pair of dark, dangerously handsome eyes looked down at me with concern. He was tall, with strikingly gorgeous hair and a divine smell.

“I wasn’t looking,” he said quickly as he bent to pick up my phone.

He turned it over.

The screen was badly cracked.

Already blank.

“I am so, so sorry,” he said again. “This is completely my fault.”

I opened my mouth.

Nothing came out at first.

“It’s… it’s fine,” I stammered.

It was not fine.

Did the message send? Did it fail?

“I insist on fixing this when we land,” he said firmly. “Please. Let me make it right.”

“That’s not necessary,” I began.

Before I could finish, he signaled to a man in a black suit behind him.

“Upgrade her seat to first class,” he said calmly. “Handle it.”

The man nodded and walked away immediately.

“You don’t have to” I tried again.

“It’s the least I can do,” he said.

His voice was steady. Not flirtatious or pushy.

I swallowed and gave a small shy smile.

“Thank you.”

When we boarded, the luxurious first-class cabin immediately caught my eye. The space felt calm and refined, with wide, soft leather seats arranged neatly in rows. The leather looked smooth and well-crafted, with clean stitching that added a subtle touch of elegance.

Soft seam lighting ran along the edges of the cabin, casting a gentle glow that made the space feel warm and inviting without being too bright.

He sat beside me but did not try to start a conversation.

He fastened his seatbelt and prepared for takeoff.

I leaned back slowly.

I was pregnant and Divorced

On a random flight to an unknown destination.

Beside a stranger with dangerous eyes.

As the plane began to move, an unsettling feeling settled in my chest.

I did not know why.

But something felt… wrong.

Was I making a mistake?

I pressed my hand gently against my stomach.

“It will be okay,” I whispered.

But even I did not sound convinced.