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Dad didn't know about my pregnancy. It was one month after finding out and I just couldn't bring myself to tell him.
All the days I’d spent here, I tried to summon the courage, I just couldn't. Not when he was this happy that I came home— that I chose him… that I finally did the right thing.
He was proud of me, he was happy. I just couldn't ruin things for us.
Things were finally going right for him. He now had employees— a little more than a few. The contract was working out perfectly for him.
His life was the definition of picture perfect, and it could remain that way until my belly started to show.
I didn’t want to imagine the look of disappointment on his face if I told him. I didn’t want to be the reason his smile was wiped away. I didn’t want to hurt Dad the second time.
But, I knew I'd do whatever it took to care for my baby. If it came down to it, and it was just us, I’d love him with every fiber of my being.
Amidst all this, I found myself thinking about Ethan, and not just because of the pain he caused me.
I found myself thinking about everything. The moments, the memories, any small gestures I could cling to.
I didn't know why my heart refused to understand that he was now part of the past. I didn't know why it couldn't understand that we had to live without him. I had to.
Inhaling a deep breath, I swung the duvet off myself before heading to the mirror. I had to make sure there were no traces of tears— or almost tears. I had to put on the same happy facade for Dad.
Tucking a few tendrils of hair behind my ear, I sighed and made my way out of the door when I received a text from Emma.
So, when are you going to tell Ethan about the pregnancy?
I sighed again. A long, heavy one. This was a question Emma had been asking since I’d been at her place.
I still didn't know.
I don't know.
I didn't know if he deserved to know. Not wanting to continue the conversation, I entered the narrow passage.
The smell of fried egg was thick in the air. I involuntarily scrunched my nose.
It wasn’t just thick in the air, it felt thick in my stomach, curling my intestine with disgust.
My steps faltered. I contemplated running back to the safety of my room when Dad called out.
“Evie, honey?”
I swallowed thickly, holding my breath. “Dad.” I wore a smile, taking slow steps to the kitchen.
He was frying eggs. The sight of it regurgitated something in my stomach.
“What's for breakfast?” I clenched my fist as my insides turned.
“Fried eggs and bacon. Don't you just love the smell?” He grinned, his hands still shaking the frying pan handle on the fire.
“I do,” I smiled.
My cheeks were starting to hurt from how much I was smiling.
“Of course, you do. Just inhale the aroma. I added a little curry spice and a bit of…” I drowned out his words. The list of ingredients even made it worse. I couldn't hold it any longer.
Instinctively, I held my stomach, tossed my phone on the kitchen counter, and ran to my room. I plunged the door of the bathroom open before kneeling in front of the toilet.
With a loud sound, I spilled my guts. Fuck. My heart raced as another wave of nausea slammed into me. Clenching my toilet seat with both hands I spilled another round.
