Divorced Before He Knew I was Pregnant Chapter 12

Divorced Before He Knew I was Pregnant Chapter 12 The Call He Didn’t Expect

Lucien didn’t go home either.

He went to his office.

It was late enough that the building had already settled into silence, the usual movement and noise reduced to something distant and unimportant. The city outside still moved, still lived, but here, everything felt contained. Controlled.

Normally, that helped him think.

Tonight, it didn’t.

He stepped into his office, loosening his tie slightly as he moved toward the window, his phone still in his hand. The glass reflected a version of him that looked the same as always—composed, steady, untouched.

But it wasn’t.

He hadn’t been able to concentrate all week.

And now it was worse.

Pregnant.

The word replayed in his mind again, heavier each time it surfaced, as if his thoughts hadn’t fully caught up to the reality of it yet.

Aira was pregnant.

His child.

He exhaled slowly, resting a hand against the desk as he lowered himself.

into the chair, his gaze drifting but not settling on anything in particular.

It wasn’t the idea of being a father that unsettled him.

That part, strangely, felt… clear.

Defined.

Something he could understand.

What he didn’t understand—

What he couldn’t ignore—

Was what kind of father he would be.

Because he had seen one version of that already.

He had lived it.

Cold.

Unavailable.

Present, but never really there.

A man who fulfilled responsibility without ever offering connection.

Lucien’s jaw tightened slightly as the thought settled deeper.

He had spent most of his life ensuring he would never resemble that.

And yet—

Now that it mattered—

He wasn’t entirely certain.

His phone rang.

The sound cut cleanly through the silence, sharp enough to pull him out of his thoughts.

He glanced at the screen.

His mother.

For a second, he considered letting it ring out.

Not because he didn’t want to speak to her—

But because he already knew this wouldn’t be a casual conversation.

Still, he answered.

“Lucien.”

Her voice came through as it always did.

Sharp.

Composed.

Unwasted.

“I heard you and Aira are separating.”

He closed his eyes briefly, leaning back in his chair.

Of course she had heard.

Nothing stayed quiet for long.

“Yes,” he replied.

There was a pause on the other end.

Not long.

But deliberate.

“And you think that’s wise?”

Lucien exhaled slowly, his gaze shifting toward the window again.

“It’s done.”

Another pause.

Slightly longer this time.

“Is it?” she asked coolly. “Because I just saw her at the clinic this morning.”

His body stilled.

Something in his chest tightened before his mind could catch up.

“What?” he asked.

“She didn’t see me,” his mother continued calmly. “But she looked pale.”

Lucien’s grip on the phone tightened unconsciously.

“You went to the clinic?” he asked, more out of reflex than curiosity.

“For a checkup,” she replied simply.

Silence followed.

But it wasn’t empty.

It stretched, filled with something unspoken, something neither of them needed to say directly.

Then—

“You’re making a mistake,” his mother said.

Her tone wasn’t raised.

It wasn’t emotional.

But it carried weight.

The kind that didn’t need emphasis to be understood.

Lucien straightened slightly, his expression hardening out of instinct.

“With respect—”

“You think I don’t recognize that look?” she cut in, her voice just as controlled, but sharper now. “That girl is carrying something heavy.”

The words landed differently.

Not because of what she said—

But because of how easily it aligned with what he had already seen.

Aira.

Pale.

Tired.

Holding something in.

His throat tightened slightly.

He swallowed.

“I know,” he said.

And this time—

There was no resistance in it.

Just truth.

The line went quiet for a moment.

Then, when his mother spoke again—

Her voice had shifted.

Not softer in the usual sense.

But less rigid.

Less distant.

“Don’t repeat the men in this family.”

The words were simple.

But they carried more weight than anything else she had said.

Lucien didn’t respond.

He didn’t need to.

Because they both knew what that meant.

Responsibility without presence.

Authority without care.

A pattern that had existed long before him.

And one he had never intended to continue.

The line went dead.

Lucien lowered the phone slowly, setting it on the desk in front of him.

The office was quiet again.

But it didn’t feel the same.

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed ahead, though his thoughts were somewhere else entirely.

Processing.

Not romance.

Not emotion.

Not even Aira, not directly.

Something deeper.

Legacy.

Choice.

Responsibility.

For the first time since all of this started—

This wasn’t about pride.

Or control.

Or even what had already been broken between them.

It was about what came next.

And the kind of man he would be when it mattered most.