Divorced Before He Knew I was Pregnant Chapter 10

Divorced Before He Knew I was Pregnant Chapter 10 The Weight of It

Lucien didn’t speak immediately.

Not when she stepped outside.

Not when the door closed softly behind her, shutting out the quiet hum of the building.

Not even when she stopped in front of him.

He just looked at her.

And it wasn’t the kind of look she was used to.

Not sharp.

Not assessing.

Not searching for control.

It was steady.

Focused.

Unsettling in a completely different way.

Because for once—

He wasn’t looking at her stomach.

He was looking at her face.

As if trying to read something there.

As if trying to understand something he had already begun to piece

together, but didn’t fully trust yet.

The air between them felt heavier than usual, thick with everything
neither of them had said yet.

“You were going to tell me,” he said finally.

His voice was quiet.

Too quiet.

Not accusatory.

Not harsh.

Just certain.

Like a question he already knew the answer to.

Aira didn’t respond immediately. Her fingers curled slightly at her sides,
her gaze dropping for a second before lifting again.

There were a hundred ways she could answer that.

None of them sounded right.

None of them felt enough.

“I didn’t think it was mine at first,” he continued, just as quietly.

Her head snapped up.

“What?”

The word came out sharper than she intended, disbelief flickering across

her expression.

Lucien swallowed, his jaw tightening slightly as if the admission cost him something.

“Because I thought you would have told me immediately,” he said.

That landed harder than anger would have.

Not because it was cruel.

But because it wasn’t.

It was honest.

And that made it worse.

“I was going to,” she said, her voice softer now, less defensive.

His gaze didn’t leave her.

“When?” he asked.

The question was simple.

But it pressed into something she hadn’t fully resolved within herself.

Aira opened her mouth, then closed it again.

Because the truth—

The real truth—

Was messy.

There was no perfect moment she could point to. No clear answer that

didn’t sound like hesitation, like doubt, like something he could misunderstand.

Lucien let out a quiet breath and dragged a hand through his hair, the movement sharp, restless.

He only did that when something got to him.

When something slipped past the control he held so tightly.

“You were carrying this alone?” he asked.

There was something different in his voice now.

Something lower.

Heavier.

Aira hesitated for a fraction of a second before giving a small nod.

“Yes.”

The word barely made it out.

And for the first time—

Something in Lucien cracked.

It wasn’t dramatic.

It wasn’t loud.

But it was visible.

The shift in his expression. The way his shoulders tensed slightly before

settling again. The way his gaze flickered away for a brief second, like he needed that moment to steady himself.

Not pride.

Not ego.

Something deeper.

Responsibility.

“You should have told me,” he said, softer now.

Aira let out a quiet, almost disbelieving breath.

“You gave me divorce papers.”

The words hung between them.

Heavy.

Unavoidable.

And they hit exactly where she intended them to.

Lucien went still.

Completely still.

For a moment, he didn’t look at her. His gaze shifted slightly to the side, his jaw tightening as the weight of that reminder settled in.

The word divorce felt different now.

Not just an ending.

A mistake.

“I thought you didn’t want this life,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter, less certain.

Aira’s expression shifted, something sharper flickering through her eyes.

“You didn’t ask.”

That—

That landed.

Because there was no way around it.

No justification strong enough to erase the truth in that.

Lucien exhaled slowly, his gaze dropping briefly before lifting again. This time, there was less certainty in it. Less control.

Cars passed behind them, the distant noise of the city continuing like nothing had changed.

But everything had.

Everything.

“I’m not asking you to come back,” Aira said carefully, choosing each word with more caution now. “I just… I didn’t know how to tell you without it looking like I was trying to trap you.”

The shift in him was immediate.

Sharp.

His expression hardened, his gaze snapping back to her with a focus that made her chest tighten.

“Trap me?” he repeated.

Aira swallowed, suddenly aware of how that sounded.

“I didn’t want you to think—”

“I would never think that about you.”

His voice cut through her words.

Firm.

Not raised.

But final.

And that certainty—

That unwavering certainty—

shook her more than anger would have.

Because it meant he believed that.

Without question.

Without hesitation.

Lucien took a slow breath, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly as he looked away again, this time not out of avoidance, but to collect himself.

“I need time,” he admitted.

Aira blinked.

Time?

Not rejection.

Not denial.

Time.

The word caught her off guard more than anything else he had said.

He looked back at her, as if realizing what that might sound like.

“That doesn’t mean I’m walking away,” he added quickly, his tone steadier now. “It means I need to process it.”

There was no defensiveness in his voice.

No distance.

Just honesty.

And for the first time since everything began unraveling—

He sounded human.

Not controlled.

Not distant.

Just… human.

Aira studied him for a moment, something unfamiliar settling in her

chest.

Because she had prepared herself for anger.

For accusations.

For rejection.

But not this.

Not understanding.

Not space.

And definitely not restraint.

The tension between them shifted, not disappearing, but changing shape.

Becoming something quieter.

Something uncertain.

Something fragile.

And for the first time since everything started falling apart—

She felt it.

A small, unexpected sense of relief.

Because this wasn’t the reaction she had feared—

But it might be the one that changes everything.