I woke up the next morning, and the air already felt heavy. The dread of what I was about to do today lingered like perfume on clothes.
Chloe left for her house around 8:30pm last night after making sure I'd be okay alone. She had work early today, so she couldn't stay over like she wanted. Even though I didn't want to be alone, I still appreciated the quiet. The silence gave me time to think—maybe too much time.
I couldn't stop thinking about whether this was the right decision. What if I kept the baby? What if I canceled the dinner too? It's not like I haven't done that before. I didn't go for their wedding either. I blamed it on being stuck with a heavy workload at the time. But this… this is different.
I stood in front of the mirror and stared at myself. More specifically, at my stomach. Three months. It wasn't that obvious, but I could see it now. A soft curve I couldn't pretend didn't exist. I ran my hand over it, gently, then looked away and dropped my hand.
I wore a light blue midi dress, but I threw a black hoodie on top. I don't even know why. Maybe I just wanted to disappear. I tied my hair into a ponytail, at least trying to look a little presentable. I didn't want to look like my problem.
A ping came from my nightstand.
I walked over and picked up my phone.
Chloe: Hey, don't be scared. I'm with you all the way, and I'm sorry I couldn't come along 🥺😭
I smiled. I knew she'd feel guilty, but I liked it this way. I needed to do this alone.
Me: I won't. And it's fine, I already told you. Besides, you have work!!!
I threw the phone in my purse, picked it up from the bed, and walked out of my flat.
********************
The ride to the clinic felt longer than it was. I sat in the back seat and watched the world blur past, people walking, laughing, couples holding hands, someone walking their dog. Then I saw a woman holding her toddler, and something twisted inside me. My hand found its way to my belly again.
No.
You already made the decision. No second thoughts now.
When the car finally pulled up in front of the clinic, I just sat there for a moment. It looked like any regular building, glass doors, pale walls, nothing special. The sign above read: Women's Wellness Clinic.
I got out before I could change my mind.
The moment I stepped inside, the coldness hit me. The place was quiet. Sterile. Too clean. The kind of clean that made you uncomfortable.
I walked up to the front desk. "Good morning, I have an appointment for 9."
The receptionist looked up and smiled softly. "Good morning, ma'am. What's your name?"
"Serena Carrington."
She checked the screen in front of her, nodded slightly. "Alright. Please fill out this clipboard and have a seat. You'll be called soon."
I took the clipboard from her with slightly shaky hands. I didn't sit down immediately. Just stood there, looking at the form.
It was short. I'd filled most of it online before the appointment. Name, age, how far along.
Then I got to that part:
Estimated gestation: 12 weeks.
Three months.
I stared at that line for too long, then forced myself to tick the box and scribble my name. My hand was trembling by the time I handed the pen back.
I finally sat.
Three other women were in the room. One stared out the window blankly. One was scrolling on her phone but wasn't really reading anything. The last one looked like she'd been crying. Puffy eyes, red cheeks. I didn't try to speak to anyone. No one looked like they wanted to talk.
I checked the time. 8:42. My appointment was in 18 minutes.
I placed a hand on my stomach again.
Twelve weeks.
Not days. Weeks.
A heartbeat. Fingers. A face. Toes.
I inhaled sharply and pulled my hand away.
Don't do this. You came here for a reason. You already made this decision. You can't change your mind now.
But it didn't feel like a decision anymore. It felt like a slow crash. Like I was about to walk into something that would break me beyond repair.
"Killian!"
The name snapped me out of my thoughts so fast I nearly dropped my purse. My heart jumped. I looked around quickly, breath caught in my throat, only to realize it wasn't about him.
A woman across the room was sobbing into a man's chest, holding him like she was drowning. "Killian!" she cried again.
I looked away.
It wasn't him. Of course it wasn't. But hearing that name here? It felt like someone was punishing me.
A nurse came out and called another name. Not mine. Still, I flinched.
My chest tightened. The nausea started creeping up....not from the pregnancy, that had mostly stopped now. But something deeper. A heaviness in my throat. Panic.
My name hadn't been called yet, but I couldn't breathe. I felt like I was about to vomit. My palms were sweaty. My heart was racing. I could already see myself lying on that table, staring at the ceiling while a part of me was taken away like it meant nothing.
I couldn't do this.
I grabbed my phone and called Chloe. It rang twice.
"Hello?" she answered, instantly alert.
"I can't do this," I choked. "I can't… I can't… I'll be killing my baby."
"Hey… it's okay," she said softly. "Whatever decision you take, I'll be right beside you to face it. You're not alone."
I sniffled. "Okay."
"Okay," she repeated. "Want me to stay on the phone?"
"No… no need. Just come over after work," I said quietly.
"I will."
I hung up before she could say anything else.
I took a breath, stood, and walked back to the receptionist.
I placed the clipboard on the counter. Her eyes met mine. She understood without me needing to explain.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I can't do this."
She nodded. "That's okay."
No judgment. No long talk. Just understanding.
And I left...before the tears could fall.