"You don't have to stay in business school forever," he said, fingers drumming lightly on the table. "I can see what you're meant to do—your designs, they're alive."
Silver laughed softly. "I don't even know if I can. Dreams don't pay rent, Edward."
"But they should," he shot back, leaning closer. "You deserve more than the safe path." He held her hands. "I'll be with you." He had bought her the little sketchbook she still carried. "Little luxuries," he'd said, "to remind you of what you could be."
The hum of the taxi engine pulled her back to the present. Rain blurred the city lights into a smear of liquid color. Her coat pressed tightly around her shoulders, her fingers brushing against the sketchbook in her bag—the certainty he'd once shown, the devotion she had cradled in her chest, still made her stomach twist.
Meredith Hospital rose ahead, polished and imposing. Today, a rare Saturday, she had a morning appointment with Dr. Marvin. It had been months since she'd taken time for herself. She reminded herself that some things—her health, her future—couldn't wait.
She showed her card at reception, rode the elevator, and knocked softly at the door on the third floor. "Come in," a warm voice called.
Dr. Marvin's office smelled faintly of antiseptic. He greeted her kindly and listened as she explained her symptoms. "I'll need to run some tests," he said, nodding thoughtfully.
Silver had expected as much. She had dressed simply: a fitted cream dress, light cardigan, sensible flats, hair pinned loosely back with stray strands framing her face—practical and understated.
In the waiting area, nausea crept in. The sterile scent of antiseptic mingled with disinfectant sprays, the sharp tang of medicine, and sweet, chemical traces of hand sanitizer. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, distant monitors beeped, nurses murmured. Somewhere, pill bottles rattled, the sharp antibiotic cutting the air. She pressed a hand to her abdomen, shifting as minutes stretched endlessly.
"Miss Quinn," a nurse called, gesturing. "The doctor says the results are ready."
Silver drew in a shaky breath and stood, each step toward the consultation room weighted with dread.
"You should sit down," Dr. Marvin said as she entered.
Fear pooled in her stomach. What could be wrong?
"The results are in…" His voice softened. "…Miss Quinn, you're two months pregnant."
Silver stared, the no caught in her throat as she pushed to her feet. Her eyes fell to the printed results on the desk. Positive.
For Edward, a small, impossible voice whispered. Somehow, she managed a shaky thank-you.
She drifted out of the office, down the hall, into the elevator. Her hand pressed to her stomach, feeling the life growing within her. Five months, she counted back. Five months since he'd left. Her fingers laced together, trembling.
The thoughts of her father's sharp disapproval hit first—harsher now, because there was no man beside her. Her mother's quiet stare followed, heavy with unspoken judgment. The Quinn family always valued safety, careful choices, and the predictable path. And yet here she was, holding a life inside her—already far from everything she'd known.
"Silver?" She startled, turning to see a tall figure standing a few paces away. Henry. A classmate from business school, visiting his ailing sister.
"You look flushed. Is everything okay?" He draped his coat over her shoulders, shielding her from the damp morning.
"Come on. I'll give you a ride."
She opened her mouth to protest—then paused. Across the lobby, Edward's gaze locked on her, rain clinging to his coat. Color drained from her face. She pressed the test results against her coat, crumpling the paper in her fist. She wasn't ready. Not like this.
"Yes," she blurted to Henry. "A ride would be nice."
He led her out, unaware of the man watching from across the lobby.
She slid into the car, holding the papers like a fragile secret. Her phone buzzed—once, twice.
Unknown Number.
Her chest tightened as the messages scrolled:
Who's that with you? Why are you at the hospital? Answer me, Silver.
Edward. How did he even get this number?
She slid her phone back into her pocket.
"Ready?" Henry asked.
He started the car, expression easy and grounding, unaware of the storm inside her.
"Yeah."
She forced a calm smile and rested her head against the window. Rain slid in jagged streaks, the city unraveling into shadows. Henry's hands moved over the wheel with steady familiarity, his presence calm.
"I guess the hospital isn't your favorite place," he said, voice light, glancing at her briefly.
Silver pressed her lips together. "Not really," she admitted, keeping it vague. She didn't need to explain the thoughts swirling in her head—about choices, consequences, and the questions she didn't have answers to.
Henry's expression softened. "Well, at least you didn't have to wait long today."
She gave a small nod, letting herself notice the sound of rain pattering on the roof of his car, the splash of tires through puddles.
"Emma's been asking about you," Henry said after a pause. "She keeps mentioning that she hopes you're doing okay."
Silver's mind stiffened. Of course she had wanted to ask after her friend. She recalled how she had met Emma while helping Henry with an assignment. She had been quiet, practical, noticed small details. They had clicked, and for a while, she had appreciated that Emma trusted her, that she had let her into her world.
"I hope she's doing okay," Silver said finally, keeping her tone neutral.
He smiled faintly. "She's been worried. It's been… tough, with her being sick. I wish I could do more."
Her fingers brushed the edge of her coat pocket. Even in the midst of her storm, she tried to offer some comfort. "You've been handling all of that well," she said, keeping her voice steady. "You've got a lot on your plate."
He shrugged, a faint humor softening his expression. "It's nothing I can't manage. I just… I worry, you know? About her."
Silver nodded, even wanted to say more, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, she studied the reflections in puddles, the blurred figures under umbrellas hurrying past. Each shadow seemed to echo the questions she didn't know how to answer: What would she do next?
Henry hummed softly. "Do you want some coffee? The morning's still young, and we've got time before anything else."
Silver shook her head faintly. "No, thank you."
She couldn't. She had to figure things out alone. She let her gaze wander again, noticing how the streetlights fractured across the wet asphalt, how the city seemed quieter under the drizzle.
The car slowed as they approached her apartment building. "You okay?" Henry asked gently.
Silver nodded, keeping her voice light. "Yeah, just… a lot of rain."
Henry gave a short laugh, returning his attention to the road. "Fair enough. Rain can do that to a person."
Yet, beneath the calm exterior, her mind raced. Decisions loomed she wasn't ready to face. The city passed in muted streaks of light and shadow, but Silver felt suspended, caught between who she was and who she might have to become.