004

MIRABEL POV

As I walked away from the tense encounter, I felt a subtle shift within me. It was as if my cells were recalibrating, my nervous system unwinding, and my muscles finally relaxing. The tension that had been coiled inside me like a spring slowly began to unravel, releasing its suffocating grip.

With each step, I felt my body returning to its natural rhythm, like a river flowing back into its tranquil course. My heartbeat slowed, my breathing deepened, and the mental fog began to lift. For the first time in hours, my mind cleared, revealing a rare, precious moment of calm.

It felt like my body had been holding its breath, bracing for disaster. And now, in the aftermath of the storm, there was a strange peace. I let it wash over me, grounding myself in the present.

I pushed open the door to the hospital pharmacy, and the familiar scent of antiseptic and medication enveloped me. Normally, it was a comforting smell — sterile, clean, safe. But today, it hit me like a punch to the gut. My stomach lurched violently, rebelling against the overwhelming scent.

I tried to breathe through my mouth, to fight the wave of nausea clawing up my throat, but it was too late.

A cold sweat broke across my forehead. My vision blurred.

Cursing under my breath, I turned and bolted towards the restroom, hand clamped over my mouth. I barely made it before I collapsed in front of the toilet, vomiting with such force it left me gasping for air.

When the spasms finally subsided, I slumped against the cold, tiled wall. My body shook from the effort. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, anger and frustration churning inside me.

Why now? I thought bitterly. I had survived the encounter. I had moved on. Or so I thought.

I pressed the back of my head against the wall and closed my eyes, willing the room to stop spinning.

A gentle knock at the door made me flinch.

“Mirabel?” a soft voice called. “It’s Victoria. Are you okay?”

I groaned inwardly, forcing my eyes open. The door cracked open, and Victoria’s worried face peered in.

“I’m so sorry for intruding,” she said quickly, her voice warm but hesitant. “I saw you rush in here. You… you don’t look well. Have you tested yourself?”

I shook my head weakly. “No. No, I’m fine,” I stammered, trying to sound convincing but failing miserably. “Just… overwhelmed.”

Victoria stepped fully into the room, crouching beside me. She studied my face carefully, her brow furrowing deeper by the second.

“Mirabel, you’re pale as a ghost,” she said gently. “Are you… pregnant?”

Her words hit me like a slap.

My head snapped up. “Oh my God. No!” I blurted, instinctively clutching my stomach. “No, no way!”

Pregnant?

The word echoed inside my head, bouncing around until it made me dizzy. A wild panic surged up my spine. My heart hammered against my ribs.

Pregnant? How? When? This can’t be happening.

“I—I’m not ready,” I whispered, barely able to hear myself over the roar of blood in my ears.

Victoria’s gaze softened with compassion. She reached into her bag and pulled out a small paper bag. “Just to be sure,” she said, placing it gently in my lap. “Better to know than to wonder.”

I stared at the bag like it might explode.

Inside were two pregnancy tests.

“Victoria, I—” My voice cracked. “I can’t.”

“You can,” she said firmly. “And you should.”

Tears stung the backs of my eyes. My hands were trembling so badly I could barely rip open the packaging. I stumbled to my feet, using the wall for support, and made my way into the stall.

Minutes later, I set the tests down on the counter and stared at them, willing the universe to be kind to me for once.

The wait felt endless. Each second dragged into eternity. My heart pounded so hard it made my vision swim.

Please no, I begged silently. Not now. Not like this.

Finally, unable to bear it another moment, I glanced down.

Two pink plus signs stared back at me.

The breath whooshed out of my lungs. My knees buckled, and I caught the sink to keep from collapsing.

“No,” I whispered. “No, no, no.”

The tests slipped from my fingers, clattering onto the floor. I sank down after them, my back against the wall, my world spinning out of control.

Tears blurred my vision as I clutched my head in my hands.

A sob ripped from my throat.

“God, please,” I gasped, my voice hoarse and desperate. “Take it back. I’m not ready. I’m not ready.”

I drew my knees to my chest, rocking slightly. The sterile bathroom felt like a prison cell, the walls closing in around me.

Victoria knocked again, softly. “Mirabel?” she called. “Do you want me to come in?”

I couldn’t find the words to answer. I didn’t know if I wanted anyone to see me like this — broken, terrified, ashamed.

Finally, the door of the toilet creaked open and she stepped inside. Her eyes landed on me, sitting on the floor like a child, and her face filled with sadness.

“Oh, Mirabel,” she murmured, kneeling down. “I’m so sorry.”

“I can’t do this,” I choked out, shaking my head frantically. “I can’t be… I can’t be someone’s mother. I’m barely surviving myself.”

Victoria placed a hand on my knee. “You don’t have to have all the answers today. You don’t even have to make any decisions right now. Just breathe. Okay?”

“Breathe,” I echoed, hollowly.

But it felt impossible.

The walls were caving in. The floor was falling out from under me.

“What am I going to do?” I whispered. “What if— what if I can’t handle it?”

“Then you ask for help,” she said simply. “You lean on people. You’re not alone, Mirabel.”

A fresh wave of tears overwhelmed me.

I wanted to believe her, but it felt like I was drowning — and no one could reach me.

Victoria squeezed my hand gently. “You’re stronger than you think,” she said. “And whatever you decide, it will be your decision. No one else’s.”

I sniffled, wiping my eyes with the sleeve of my coat.

The idea of choice — that I wasn’t trapped — gave me the smallest flicker of hope.

But it was buried under an avalanche of fear.

I looked down at my stomach again, this time with a complicated mix of emotions. Fear, yes. But something else, too — something fragile and trembling, like a new shoot growing through concrete.

Maybe there was a tiny, stubborn part of me that already cared.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I whispered again.

“I am sorry if I may ask, who is the father of the child?” Victoria asked firmly.