Kalau Cinta, Pasti Sayang

Elena's POV

The words hung in the air between us, impossible and terrifying.

"Congratulations, Dr. Rossi," Dr. Patel said, her smile warm and genuine. "You're pregnant."

I stared at her, my mind refusing to process what she'd just said. Pregnant. The word echoed in my head, bouncing off the walls of my skull like a ricocheting bullet. This couldn't be happening. I'd been so careful. The pills Tristan gave me every morning were supposed to prevent exactly this.

Dr. Patel turned the ultrasound screen toward me, her finger pointing at two small, flickering spots. "And from what I can see here, you're carrying twins. Fraternal, most likely. I'd estimate you're about eight weeks along."

Twins.

My hand flew to my mouth, and I tasted the salt of tears I hadn't realized were falling. Eight weeks. That meant it happened during that night two months ago, the night Tristan had come home late from the hospital, exhausted and vulnerable after losing a patient on the operating table. He'd reached for me in the darkness, and for once, there had been something almost tender in his touch.

Almost.

"Dr. Rossi?" Dr. Patel's voice cut through my spiral. "Are you alright? Is this welcome news?"

I couldn't answer. How could I explain that this pregnancy violated the very foundation of my marriage? That the man whose children I carried had made me sign a contract explicitly forbidding this exact situation?

"I've been taking the contraceptive pills," I finally managed, my voice barely above a whisper. "Every single day. I don't understand how this could happen."

Dr. Patel's expression shifted to something more clinical. "Were you consistent with the timing? Did you miss any doses? Certain medications can interfere with effectiveness."

I tried to remember. There had been that week when I'd had the flu. And the antibiotics Dr. Chen had prescribed. Oh god. The antibiotics.

"I was sick last month," I said, my hands trembling as I gripped the edge of the examination table. "I took antibiotics."

"That would do it." Dr. Patel nodded sympathetically. "Certain antibiotics can reduce the effectiveness of oral contraceptives. I'm surprised no one warned you to use backup protection."

No one had warned me because no one knew I was on the pill. Tristan insisted on complete secrecy about our marriage. As far as the hospital was concerned, I was just another surgical assistant, not the wife of their star cardiac surgeon.

Dr. Patel handed me tissues and waited while I wiped my eyes. "I need to be honest with you, Dr. Rossi. Given your medical history, this pregnancy is going to require careful monitoring. Your uterine condition puts you at higher risk for complications, especially with twins."

Of course. Even my body wanted to make this as difficult as possible.

"What kind of complications?" I asked, though part of me didn't want to know.

"Preterm labor, primarily. We'll need to watch you closely, especially in the third trimester. You'll need to take it easy, reduce stress, get plenty of rest." She looked at me seriously. "This isn't a pregnancy you can just push through, Elena. You'll need support."

Support. The word was almost funny. Tristan had made it crystal clear from the day we signed that contract that support wasn't part of our arrangement. Our marriage existed on paper and in the darkness of his bedroom. During daylight hours, I was invisible.

"I understand," I said, though I understood nothing. How was I supposed to hide a twin pregnancy while working beside Tristan in the operating room every day? How was I supposed to take it easy when my job required twelve-hour shifts on my feet?

Dr. Patel printed out the ultrasound images and handed them to me. "I want to see you back in two weeks. Start taking prenatal vitamins, increase your protein intake, and please, Elena, tell the father. You're going to need help with this."

I nodded mechanically, clutching the pictures to my chest. Two tiny beings, no bigger than kidney beans, already changing everything. Already making demands I couldn't fulfill.

The drive home was a blur of tears and panic. I kept glancing at the ultrasound pictures on my passenger seat, trying to make sense of this new reality. Tristan's children. Our children. The very thing our contract had been designed to prevent.

Clause Eight. I could recite it from memory. "The marriage shall remain childless for its duration. Both parties agree to take appropriate contraceptive measures. In the event of pregnancy, the contract becomes null and void, with all assets reverting to the primary holder."

In other words, if I was pregnant, I lost everything. The small salary Tristan paid me as his "assistant." The roof over my head in his penthouse. The health insurance that was currently covering this very appointment. Everything.

I pulled into the parking garage of the building we shared, but I couldn't make myself get out of the car. My hands drifted to my stomach, still flat beneath my scrubs. How long did I have before it started showing? Two months? Three?

My phone buzzed. A text from Linda, Tristan's actual personal assistant and the only person at Caine-Vitale Medical Institute who knew about our arrangement.

"Dr. Caine wants you in his office at 6 AM tomorrow. Don't be late."

I stared at the message, my heart racing. Tomorrow I would have to face him, knowing what I knew. Carrying the secret that would destroy everything.

My phone buzzed again. This time, it was a message that made my blood run cold.

"Can't wait to see you Thursday, baby. I've missed you so much. Your Serena."

I recognized the number. It was Tristan's phone. He must have left it somewhere, and I was still listed as his emergency contact, which meant I received copies of certain messages.

Serena. My stepsister. The brilliant neurosurgeon who had everything I'd ever wanted, including the man I'd foolishly fallen in love with.

The man whose twins I was now carrying.

I leaned my head against the steering wheel and finally let myself sob. Eight weeks pregnant with forbidden twins, married to a man who loved someone else, and facing a future that terrified me more than any diagnosis I'd ever received.

Tomorrow, I would have to pretend everything was fine. Tomorrow, I would stand beside Tristan in the OR and hand him instruments with steady hands while my entire world crumbled inside me.

But tonight, alone in this car, I let myself break.