Chapter 9

Aria POV

I stared at the folder in my trembling hands, my eyes scanning the medical report over and over. Nine weeks pregnant. The words blurred through my tears. Nine weeks. But that was impossible. I counted in my head again—one week, two weeks, three… six. Six weeks. I was sure of it.

I looked up at Julian. His eyes were full of fury. The veins in his neck stood out. His entire body was rigid, like he was barely holding himself back.

Nothing felt right.

“Julian—” My voice was trembling. The study echoed with my shaky breath. “It can’t—be—”

“It can’t be what?”

His voice exploded through the room. I flinched. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, knuckles bone-white. A vein pulsed at his temple.

My mouth opened but nothing came out. My throat was too tight. My mind was screaming at me to explain, to make him understand, but the words wouldn’t form.

“Do you think I won’t find out?”

He took a step toward me. The floor seemed to shake with his movement. His chest was heaving, his breathing heavy and controlled, like he was trying not to explode completely.

“So why were you hiding it?”

“No—I wasn’t hiding it—”

The words tumbled out too fast, too desperate. The papers rattled in my shaking hands. I could feel my whole body trembling.

Please believe me. Please just listen.

“This report is wrong… I’m… I’m just six weeks pregnant… I’m sure of it.”

“Sure of what, Aria?”

His voice dropped. Quieter now, but somehow more terrifying. He moved closer, each step deliberate and slow. His jaw was clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping beneath his skin.

I backed up until my spine hit the wall. Trapped.

“It’s your child—our child. I can prove it—”

“Prove what?”

He laughed. The sound was sharp, bitter. His hand came up and ran through his hair roughly, tugging at it. When he looked back at me, his eyes were darker than I’d ever seen them.

“What do you want to prove? The way you’ve been fucking around, huh? You and Matthew—do you want to tell me it’s a coincidence he offered you a job? How do you want to explain that?”

Each word felt like a slap. My vision blurred with tears.

He really thinks… he really believes I was cheating on him. The thought made my stomach turn. He actually thought I could do that. That I would.

“No—Julian, I never cheated on you. This child is your baby. Our baby.”

“My baby?” His voice went deadly quiet. He stared at me, and for just a second—just one heartbeat—something cracked in his expression. His eyes flickered with something that looked like pain. His lips parted like he was going to say something else.

But then his face hardened again. His jaw set. His eyes went cold.

He doesn’t believe me. He’s not going to believe me.

The realization hit me like ice water. My chest felt like it was caving in.

“This isn’t right. I can prove it. My report is in the drawer in our bedroom… let me go and bring it—”

“That was exactly where I took it.” His voice was flat now. Empty. He gestured at the folder in my hands, his movement sharp and angry. “In that damn drawer.”

“No, that’s not possible. My report stated that I’m six weeks gone, not nine—”

“You’re still denying it?”

He shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. There was something like disappointment there now, mixed with the rage.

“Don’t you have any shame?”

Shame? The word gutted me. Fresh tears spilled down my cheeks.

How can he look at me like this? How can he think so little of me?

“Let’s go to our family doctor to confirm—”

“Confirm?” He scoffed, turning away from me. His hand slammed down on the desk. Papers jumped. I jumped.

“Why didn’t you go there in the first place for the test? Tell me why? Oh, because you didn’t want me to know you’ve been having an affair.”

“No, that’s not why—I was afraid. I wanted to be sure—”

“Sure of what?”

He spun back to face me. That cruel smile was back on his face, but his eyes… his eyes looked almost wild now.

“So you could pass that bastard off as mine?”

“That’s impossible! I know it’s yours. I can prove it—”

Something flickered across his face. His shoulders dropped slightly. His hand lifted, just an inch, like he might reach for me.

For one second, I thought he believed me.

His expression softened. His eyes met mine, really met them, and I saw it—doubt. Pain. Maybe even regret.

Please. Please see me. Please believe me.

But then he blinked. His face turned to stone again. His hand dropped. His whole body went rigid.

“You have no choice but to abort it.”

The words sucked all the air from the room.

My knees went weak. “No, Julian—”

Before I could move, before I could reach for him, he turned sharply on his heel and strode toward the door.

“Julian, please—”

The door slammed shut so hard the walls shook.

I stumbled forward, grabbed the handle. I pulled it, but it didn’t move. He locked me in.

“Julian?” My voice cracked. I pulled again, harder. “Julian, please!”

Silence pressed against my ears.

“JULIAN!”

I pounded on the door with both fists. The sound echoed back at me, hollow and empty. My throat burned raw.

“Please… please open the door… please…”

Nothing. Just silence.

I pressed my forehead against the wood. My whole body was shaking now—hands, legs, everything.

A wave of nausea hit me hard. I swallowed once. Twice. Forced it down.

I can’t be sick now. No—I can’t.

My legs couldn’t hold me anymore. I slid down the door until I was sitting on the floor. My hands moved to my stomach, started rubbing slow, gentle circles.

“It’s okay,” I whispered. My voice sounded so small. “It’s okay, baby. Mama’s here.”

But it wasn’t okay.

Nothing was okay.

A sob tore out of my chest. Then another. I couldn’t stop them.

Four years. Four years I’d loved him. Four years I’d been faithful. Four years I’d waited. All he could do was look at me like garbage.

My hands stayed on my stomach, moving in those same slow circles.

“I won’t let him hurt you.”

But my voice broke on the words. They sounded hollow. Empty.

The nausea came again, stronger this time. I pressed my hand over my mouth, breathing slowly through my nose until it passed, while my other hand stayed on my belly.

“We’re okay,” I whispered. “We’re okay.”

The tears kept falling.

I pulled my knees up to my chest, made myself as small as possible.

His face kept flashing in my mind—the disgust when he looked at me. The hatred. The way his eyes went cold.

How could he accuse me of cheating? I never once cheated on him. I loved him so much.

I don’t know why he doesn’t want us to go confirm. I am sure the result will tell him that I was just six weeks gone, not nine weeks.

“It’s okay,” I whispered to my stomach again. My hand kept moving in those gentle circles.

I sat there on the cold floor. Papers scattered all around me. His threat kept ringing in my head. He’d try to force me to abort our baby, my baby. His own baby.

I lay down on the floor, closed my eyes, praying to God to help me change his mind.