Semua Bab Divorced Before He Knew I was Pregnant: Bab 11 - Bab 20

Aira didn’t go home immediately after.She couldn’t.The thought of returning to that apartment, of standing in the same space where everything suddenly felt uncertain, made something inside her resist. She needed distance, not just physically, but mentally. Somewhere that didn’t feel heavy with expectation or unfinished conversations.So instead, she went to Zara.Zara had been her closest friend since university, long before marriage, long before everything became complicated. She was one of the few people who knew Aira without the weight of being someone’s wife attached to her name. With Zara, things were simple. Honest. Unfiltered.When Zara opened the door, she didn’t even try to hide her reaction.Her brows pulled together instantly as her eyes scanned Aira’s face.“You look like you’ve either seen a ghost,” she said, stepping aside slowly, “or become one.”Aira almost laughed.Almost.But the sound never fully came out.“Can I come in?” she asked instead, her voice quieter than

The decision didn’t come from anger.It didn’t come from betrayal, or even from a single moment that could be pointed to and named.It came from exhaustion.The kind that built slowly, quietly, over time. The kind that didn’t demand attention until it was already too deep to ignore.Aira had spent the evening sitting at the edge of their bed, her hands resting loosely in her lap, her posture still despite the restless thoughts moving through her. The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of the bedside lamp, but the quiet wasn’t complete.Lucien’s voice carried faintly from the study down the hall.Low.Controlled.Measured.The same tone he used in boardrooms and negotiations. Calm. Authoritative. Detached.She used to admire that about him.Back when it felt like strength.Back when it made her feel secure, like nothing could shake him, like he could handle anything the world placed in front of him.Now—It made her feel like she was married to a man who never truly entered the ro

Lucien didn’t realize immediately.The house was large enough that absence could hide.Rooms could remain untouched for hours. Silence could pass as normal. Distance could exist without being noticed, especially in a place where quiet had long been mistaken for peace.He returned home late that evening, his mind still partially occupied with work, his movements automatic as he stepped inside.At first—Nothing felt unusual.The lights were off in most of the rooms. The air was still. Familiar.He set his keys down, loosening his cufflinks as he moved further into the house.It was only after a few seconds that something registered.The quiet.Not the usual kind.Not the kind that came from rest or routine.This was different.He paused slightly, his gaze shifting, his senses catching up to something his mind hadn’t fully processed yet.“Aira?” he called.Casual.Unconcerned.The way he always did.No response.He moved further in, his steps slower now, more deliberate.“Aira,” he call

The first few weeks in California passed more quickly than Aira expected.Not because they were easy.But because she refused to slow down long enough to feel them.Staying busy became her defense. Her structure. The one thing that kept her from thinking too much about everything she had left behind.Every morning, she woke before sunrise.Sometimes it was the pregnancy that pulled her from sleep—an uncomfortable shift, a restless ache she couldn’t ignore. Other times, it was the silence.The apartment was still unfamiliar in a way that unsettled her. Too quiet. Too still. There were moments when she would lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, needing to hear something—anything—just to remind herself that she wasn’t suspended in between lives.So she got up.She moved.She created noise where there was none.Even if it was just the sound of water running in the kitchen or the soft scrape of a chair across the floor.It helped.A little.University life demanded more from her than she ha

As the months passed, Aira’s pregnancy progressed steadily, marking time in a way that felt both physical and deeply personal.Her body changed first.Subtly at the beginning, then in ways she could no longer ignore. Movements became slower. Fatigue lingered longer than it used to. There were mornings when simply getting out of bed required more effort than she expected.But alongside that—Something else was growing.Not just life within her.But strength.Balancing coursework with physical exhaustion demanded a level of discipline she hadn’t known she possessed. Her days were carefully structured now, each hour accounted for, each task approached with quiet determination.There was no one to rely on.No one to step in when she felt overwhelmed.So she adjusted.She learned.She endured.Prenatal appointments were the hardest.Not because of the process itself—But because of what surrounded it.She often sat alone in waiting rooms filled with couples. Conversations drifted around he