Divorced Before He Knew I was Pregnant Chapter 09

Divorced Before He Knew I was Pregnant Chapter 09 Almost

The clinic smelled too clean.

Aira had always hated places like this — the kind of sterile quiet that made every thought echo louder than it should. The white walls felt almost accusatory, like they were waiting for something to go wrong.

She sat in the waiting area with her hands clasped so tightly in her lap that her knuckles had turned pale. She hadn’t told anyone she was coming.

Not her friend.

And certainly not Lucien.

The nurse’s voice kept replaying in her mind.

Elevated levels.

Precautionary.

Don’t worry.

People always said that right before there was something to worry about.

Her phone buzzed inside her bag.

She ignored it.

It buzzed again.

And again.

She didn’t need to check the screen to know who it was. Still, her hand

moved slowly, almost unwillingly, pulling the phone out.

Three missed calls.

Lucien.

Her chest tightened.

Lucien never called like that unless something was wrong. Or unless he felt something shift.

She stared at his name for a long moment before standing abruptly. The waiting area suddenly felt too small.

She stepped into the hallway outside the consultation rooms and pressed call back.

He answered immediately.

“Where are you?”

No greeting. No hesitation.

“I’m out,” she replied.

“Out where?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because you didn’t answer your phone.”

“I was busy.”

“With what?”

She hesitated — and she knew he heard it.

His voice sharpened, not in anger, but alert.

“Aira.”

She swallowed. “Why are you checking up on me?”

“I’m not checking up. I went by the house.”

Her stomach dropped.

“You what?”

“You weren’t there.”

“Why were you at the house?”

“To return the key.”

Silence hit her hard. She had asked him to. In the chaos of everything else, she had forgotten.

“And?” she managed.

“And you weren’t there. You looked pale yesterday. You barely ate. And now you’re gone.”

His breathing wasn’t angry.

It was tight.

“You don’t get to investigate me,” she said quietly.

“I’m not investigating.”

“You showed up at the house.”

“Because you asked me to.”

She closed her eyes briefly. He wasn’t wrong.

But he wasn’t right either.

There was a pause — the kind that stretches just long enough to become suspicious.

Then he said it.

“Are you at a hospital?”

Her heart skipped violently.

“No.”

“A clinic?”

She didn’t answer.

And that silence betrayed her.

His voice dropped lower.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying.”

“You are.”

The frustration in his tone wasn’t loud.

It was afraid.

And that unsettled her more than anger ever could.

“Aira,” he said again, softer now. “Tell me.”

She leaned back against the cold hallway wall, pressing the phone harder to her ear.

“I just needed to check something.”

“What something?”

She didn’t answer.

She heard a car door slam on his end.

“Where are you?” he asked.

Her eyes widened.

“Lucien—”

“Send me the location.”

“No.”

“Send it.”

“Don’t come.”

His voice changed then. Not commanding. Not controlling.

Desperate.

“If you’re sick and you think I won’t show up because we’re fighting, then you don’t know me at all.”

That hurt.

Because she did know him.

He always showed up.

He just didn’t always stay.

“Please,” she whispered.

The nurse’s voice carried down the hallway.

“Mrs. Bennett?”

Everything inside her went still.

Lucien heard it too.

“…Mrs. Bennett?”

Silence.

Then, slowly, dangerously calm—

“Why did she call you that?”

“It’s just paperwork,” she said quickly.

“You said you were going to change it.”

“I haven’t yet.”

“Why?”

She had no answer that wouldn’t unravel everything.

“I have to go,” she said.

“You’re pregnant.”

The words weren’t loud.

They weren’t even certain.

But they landed.

She froze.

He didn’t know.

But he knew.

There’s a difference.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

“Are you?”

Her vision blurred. This was not how she had planned it. She hadn’t planned to tell him at all — not yet, not like this.

The nurse called her name again.

“I have to go,” she repeated.

“Answer me.”

She ended the call.