Sabine sank into the driver’s seat and just…sat there. Hands limp in her lap. Engine off. Window cracked. The sky was too blue. The world too loud. Somewhere nearby, a child was crying, and the sound burrowed into her chest like a dull knife.
Pregnant.
The word clanged inside her, heavy and foreign. It felt like it didn’t belong in her mouth anymore. Like it had once been sacred and sweet, but now...it came with trauma and an ache that lived in her bones. She rested her head back and closed her eyes.
Then her phone lit up on the passenger seat.
Adair.
She stared at the screen as it buzzed, her chest tightening. He was probably checking in. Maybe already outside Dr. Pie’s office waiting for her. Maybe just wanting to hear her voice.
The phone went silent, then started ringing again almost immediately. This time, she picked up.
“Hey,” she said, voice small and quieter than she meant.
“You good baby?” his voice was gentle, but alert. “I just wanted to check in. You still good for Pie at three?”
They’d been good lately. Better than good. Since the night they’d let themselves fall into each other again, something had shifted—for real this time. They hadn’t had any deep conversations about living together or what came next, but he hadn’t left. Not really.
Adair had been at the house every night. Helping with dinner. Folding laundry. Waking up to Ade’s feet in his back and their son? He was glowing. Lit up from the inside like a little boy finally getting the thing he didn’t know how to ask for. His parents. Together. In the same kitchen. At the same breakfast table.
They dropped him off at school side by side. Adair walked Sabine to the train afterward, coffee in her hand, the city ride less grueling when she wasn’t white-knuckling traffic.
It felt like family again. Like hope.
And now this.
A baby.
Sabine blinked against the sun on the windshield. It felt like cold water had been poured over all the warmth she’d finally let herself feel. She was terrified. Not of him. Not even of them.
Just…of what loss could meanthistime.
Sabine swallowed. Her hand found her stomach on instinct and then pulled away just as fast.
“I’m…I’m good,” she lied, looking out the windshield at nothing. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”
“You sure?” he hesitated. “You sound?—”
“I’ll tell you when I see you,” she cut in. “It’s not something I wanna say over the phone.”
That gave him pause. “Okay,” he said finally. “You want me to come get you?”
“No. I just need a minute. I’ll meet you there.”
Another pause. Longer this time. Then: “Alright. I’ll be there.”
They hung up, and Sabine sat there for a long time after, phone still in her hand, her breath finally beginning to steady. She didn’t know what she was going to say. Or how. But she knew it had to come out. With Pie there. With someone else in the room to help her through this.
Then she turned the key in the ignition?—
And drove toward the session that might change everything. Again.
Sabine pulled into the parking lot outside Dr. Pie’s office, her hands stiff on the wheel. She sat for a second, watching him already standing there—Adair, leaned against his car, mid-conversation on the phone. His free hand rubbed the back of his neck, his suit jacket unbuttoned, like he’d rushed from work and still managed to make it look easy.
Even from the safety of her seat, she could read his body language—tense but trying not to be. Focused, but distracted.
And then…he saw her.