He Opened the Door, I Walked Out Chapter 12

He Opened the Door, I Walked Out Chapter 12

The nausea hit me like a wave as I lifted the delicate china cup to my lips. The aroma of Earl Grey, which I’d always loved, suddenly made my stomach lurch violently. I set the cup down with trembling fingers, the porcelain clattering against the saucer.

“Elaine?” Julian’s voice cut through the fog of queasiness that had descended over me. “Are you alright?”

We were sitting in Le Bernardin, one of the city’s most exclusive restaurants, at a table by the window overlooking Central Park. The

afternoon sun streamed through the glass, casting everything in a golden glow that should have been beautiful but instead made me

feel dizzy and overheated.

“I’m fine,” I managed, though my voice sounded weak even to my own ears. “Just tired, I think.”

But I wasn’t fine. The smell of the seared scallops on the plate in front of me, which had looked so appetizing when the waiter set it down, now made bile rise in my throat. I pressed my hand to my mouth, fighting the urge to bolt for the ladies’ room.

Julian leaned forward, his dark eyes filled with concern. “You’ve gone completely pale. When’s the last time you ate something

substantial?”

I tried to think back. Yesterday? The day before? The past week had been such a whirlwind of emotions and revelations that basic things like eating had fallen by the wayside.

“I should probably go home,” I said, starting to rise from my chair. The movement made the room spin slightly, and I gripped the edge of the table for support.

“I’m taking you to a doctor,” Julian said firmly, signaling for the waiter. “This isn’t just fatigue.”

“No, really, I’m-” Another wave of nausea cut off my protest. This time I couldn’t fight it. I rushed toward the restroom, my heels clicking frantically against the marble floor.

In the privacy of the elegant bathroom, I gripped the cool marble countertop and stared at my reflection. My face was indeed pale, almost ghostly, and there were dark circles under my eyes that I hadn’t noticed this morning. When had I started looking so fragile?

A terrible suspicion began to creep into my mind. The nausea, the fatigue, the way certain smells had been bothering me lately. I’d been so caught up in the drama with Richard and the intoxicating newness of Julian that I hadn’t paid attention to my body’s signals.

But now, standing in this bathroom with my heart racing, the possibility hit me like a freight train.

When was my last period?

I tried to count backward, my hands shaking as I gripped the sink. Three weeks? Four? With everything that had been happening, I’d lost track entirely.

Julian was waiting for me when I emerged, his expression grave with worry. “I’ve called my driver. We’re going to Mount Sinai.”

“Julian, you don’t need to-”

“Yes, I do.” His voice brooked no argument. “You can barely stand up straight.”

The ride to the hospital passed in a blur. Julian held my hand in the back of his black sedan, his thumb tracing gentle circles on my palm. I wanted to tell him about my suspicion, but the words stuck in my throat. What if I was wrong? What if it was just stress, just my body’s reaction to the upheaval in my life?

But deep down, I knew. The way my body felt different, foreign. The exhaustion that no amount of sleep seemed to cure. The sudden aversion to foods I’d always enjoyed.

At the hospital, Julian’s name opened doors that would have remained closed to ordinary people. Within minutes, I was in an examination room with Dr. Sarah Chen, a kind-faced woman in her forties who asked gentle questions while drawing blood.

“We’ll have the results in about twenty minutes,” she said, peeling off her gloves. “But based on your symptoms, I think we both know what we’re looking for.”

Julian paced the small room like a caged animal while we waited. “You should have told me you weren’t feeling well,” he said for the third time. “I would have rescheduled lunch.”

“I didn’t know it was this bad,” I said honestly. “It just hit me all at once.”

When Dr. Chen returned, her expression was carefully neutral. “Mrs. Mills, you’re pregnant. About six weeks along, based on your hormone levels.”

The words hung in the air like a bomb waiting to explode. Six weeks. I did the math quickly, my heart pounding. Richard and I hadn’t been intimate in over two months. Not since before he’d asked for the open marriage. Not since our relationship had begun its slow, painful deterioration.

This baby was Julian’s.

I felt the blood drain from my face as the full implications hit me. Julian went completely still beside me, his hand frozen in the act of

reaching for mine.

“Are you certain?” I whispered.

“The blood test is very reliable,” Dr. Chen said gently. “Congratulations.”

Congratulations. The word felt surreal. I was forty-two years old, married to a man I was planning to divorce, carrying the child of a

man I’d known for barely a week.

“I need some air,” I said abruptly, standing on unsteady legs.

Julian followed me into the hallway, his face a mask of controlled shock. “Elaine-”

“Six weeks,” I said, my voice barely audible. “It’s been six weeks since Richard and I… since we last…”

Understanding dawned in his eyes, followed immediately by something that looked like fierce protectiveness. “The baby is mine.”

It wasn’t a question. We both knew the timeline, knew the impossibility of any other explanation.

“What are we going to do?” I asked, the weight of the situation crushing down on me.

Before Julian could answer, my phone rang, Richard’s name flashed on the screen, and my blood turned to ice. I’d been gone for hours. He’d probably been calling and texting frantically.

With trembling fingers, I answered. “Hello, Richard.”

“Elaine! Thank God. I’ve been worried sick. Where are you? You left the restaurant hours ago, and Julian Sterling’s assistant said you’d left together. What’s going on?”

I looked at Julian, who was watching me with intense focus. In his eyes, I saw a question: What are you going to tell him?

“I’m at the hospital,” I said finally “I wasn’t feeling well.

“The hospital? Jesus, Elaine, which one? I’m coming right now.”

“Mount Sinai. But Richard, I’m fine. I just-”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Don’t go anywhere.”

The line went dead. I stared at my phone, my mind racing. In fifteen minutes, Richard would be here. He’d want answers, explanations. And eventually, he’d learn about the pregnancy.

What would I tell him? That I was carrying another man’s child? That our marriage was even more broken than he’d realized?

Or would I let him believe what he’d want to believe-that somehow, miraculously, we’d managed to create new life together just when everything else was falling apart?

Julian’s hand touched my shoulder gently. “Whatever you decide to tell him,” he said quietly, “I’ll support you. But Elaine… this changes everything.”

I nodded, my throat tight with unshed tears. He was right. Everything had changed. The question was: what kind of life was I going to build from the ashes of the old one?

In the distance, I could hear the elevator doors opening, the sound of hurried footsteps on polished floors. Richard was coming, and I still had no idea what I was going to say.