That's right, Miss Kopecká, you're eight weeks pregnant," the doctor says gently, the words landing like stones in a still pond.
Eight weeks.
A baby.
His baby.
My hands move instinctively to my stomach as if I could feel the heartbeat already, as if the child could hear my thoughts. A beautiful, helpless creature. And yet all I can see in my mind is Petr's face, smiling at me the way he did before everything collapsed.
I leave the office in a daze, the city around me just shapes and colors smudging into each other. The street noise sounds far away, like someone turned the volume down on the world. I know only one thing: I'm keeping the baby. That decision formed the moment I suspected. No one—not even him—will take this child away from me.
---
Valerie's keys rattle in the lock when she gets home. Before she's even inside, she calls out, "So, how did it turn out?"
I'm sitting curled up on her couch, fingers pressed to my lips. I only manage a small nod.
Her whole face lights up. "I knew it! I'm going to be an aunt!" She drops her bag, rushes to me and hugs me tight. Her joy is so infectious it seeps into me, pulling a smile from somewhere deep down.
"I love you, Val," I whisper into her shoulder.
"Me too." She pulls back, eyes sparkling. "And listen—I have another sensational idea. What if you moved in with me permanently?"
"That's not possible," I say automatically. "I can't limit you here. And now that there are two of us…" my voice falters, "you won't have any privacy. What about David?"
Her face flickers—just a second, but enough. "Right now, things aren't working out between us. We're taking a break." She straightens. "But that doesn't matter. I have space. I'm alone. And you need every penny you can save now. Why not live together?"
As always, Valerie's logic slides through my walls like sunlight. "Okay," I murmur.
---
The next day I force myself up early. Dressed and back at work, my office feels both foreign and familiar. People greet me like I've been gone for years. There's a mountain of papers to catch up on, but work is a relief—it's order, it's something that makes sense.
I've barely settled in when the phone rings. I don't answer; the answering machine clicks.
"Sarah…" His voice. Petr's voice. My whole body goes rigid. "Where the hell are you? My cell says you're temporarily disconnected. If you're there, please pick up. I'm worried about you. I'm on my way home but I'll stop by when I get there."
Silence.
I lean back in my chair, hand trembling against my stomach, and exhale a shaky breath. Thank God he didn't show up here. Not yet. I'm not ready.
---
That evening, I walk quickly down the street, scanning shadows without realizing. When I close the door to Valerie's apartment behind me, my body finally relaxes.
"Val? I'm home," I call. Silence answers.
I slip off my shoes, heading for the living room. But the second I step inside, my heart stops.
Petr is standing there.
His eyes lock onto mine, shock and something else flickering inside them.
Valerie's voice comes from behind him, hesitant. "Sara, you… you have a visitor." She looks rattled too, which means this is serious.
Petr clears his throat. "I—I still have to take care of something," he mutters, brushing past Valerie and slamming the door behind him as he leaves.
I'm frozen to the spot, staring at the empty space he left.
Valerie whispers, "Sarah, honey… what's going on?"
Then the door opens again. Petr steps back inside, but slower this time, like he's approaching a wild animal. "Sarah…" he starts, taking a tentative step forward.
"No. Stay there." My arms shoot out automatically, like a shield. I step back until my shoulders hit the wall.
He stops, confusion hardening into pain. "What's happening? Talk to me."
"It's over, Petr." My voice cracks but I keep going. "It's over between us. I don't want to see you anymore. Ever."
His face collapses. "Sarah, you're not serious."
"I'm completely serious." I look away from his eyes—they're too much, too full of the man I loved. "Please go away."
Despite my efforts, tears burst from me, hot and relentless. I didn't want to cry. I wanted to end it cleanly. But the hurt is a living thing clawing out of me.
"Go," I whisper.
For a heartbeat, there's only the sound of his breathing. Then a last look—his eyes searching mine for something to hold onto—and the door slams shut.
I stand there in the ringing silence, tears on my cheeks, one hand pressed over the tiny life growing inside me.
I won't cry anymore. Not for Petr. From now on, my tears belong only to this child—a child he may never know.