Vivian’s POV…
I stand in the brightly lit hallway of the hospital, clutching the positive pregnancy test in my trembling hands. My heart races with a mix of excitement and disbelief as I gaze down at the life-changing news before me.
A surge of happiness and anticipation courses through my veins, filling me with an indescribable sense of wonder.
With newfound purpose, I walk briskly towards the exit, each step filled with renewed energy and hope. A radiant smile graces my lips, growing wider with each passing moment, as I carry the precious secret within me. It feels as though I'm floating, with the joy in my heart propelling me forward.
This is our first marriage anniversary, and I find out that I am pregnant. I wonder how George will react.
I swiftly take out the phone from my purse and dial his number, my heart leaping to my throat with a mixture of hope and nervousness. Thoughts of our journey together, the shared laughter, and quiet moments of connection flood my mind.
As the phone rings, each passing ring feels like an eternity, amplifying the anticipation that courses through me.
I can barely contain my sheer happiness, knowing that in just a few short moments, I will share the most incredible news of our lives.
But the call goes unanswered, and a flicker of disappointment momentarily clouds my expression.
‘No worries. I will go to his office,’ I murmur to myself, smiling.
‘No, you can’t go there,’ my inner voice whispers.
My smile wanes instantly. I recall George's caution against visiting his office, a reminder that our marriage remains a secret.
Taking a deep breath, I remind myself to be patient and to wait for him to return home.
I long for the moment when I can look into his eyes and share the immense joy that now fills my heart.
"It’s okay. I will go home and cook dinner for him." With renewed hope and excitement, I exit the hospital and drive home.
Returning home, I step into the cozy living room, basking in the warm afternoon light that fills the space. The familiar surroundings offer a comforting embrace, reflecting the love and warmth that have blossomed within our home.
Settling onto the couch, I can hardly contain my excitement as I place a gentle hand on my still-flat belly, feeling a connection to the tiny life that grows within.
Whispers of love and protection escape my lips, a promise to care for and nurture the precious gift that now resides in me.
"I know your dad will be as excited as I am," I whisper.
I make my way to the kitchen, the anticipation bubbling within me like a wellspring of happiness. The familiar tasks of preparing a celebratory dinner bring me a sense of calm and serenity, even as my mind races with dreams of our future as a family.
Each slice of vegetable and each stir of the simmering pot becomes an act of love and devotion. I move with a lightness in my step, and a sense of nostalgia washes over me, mingling with the joy that fills my heart.
Memories of how our journey began a year ago flood my mind, intermingling with the aromas of the simmering food.
It started with a contract.
The agreement was clear: if we couldn't fall in love with each other within a year, it would come to an end. I couldn't help but worry at first, knowing that George still carried a lingering attachment to his ex-girlfriend. Doubts would occasionally cloud my mind, casting a shadow on our connection.
Yet, amidst the challenges and doubts, we shared beautiful moments together. We rarely argued with each other.
Those peaceful moments offer glimpses of hope, reminding me that love has the power to grow and flourish.
And now, since I am pregnant with his child, my deepest desire is to preserve the sacred bond we have forged. I wish, with every fiber of my being, that this pregnancy will be the catalyst to cement our love and transform our contract marriage into something everlasting.
The flickering flames on the stove mirror the flickering hope in my heart. The soft melodies playing in the background seem to underscore my longing for a future filled with love and stability.
The anticipation of George's return grew stronger as I finished cooking. My heart is beating faster. I imagine his reaction to the news that awaits him.
Will he be happy? Will he jump with joy?
I yearn for the moment when I will share the news that will forever alter the course of our lives. With a lot of hope in my mind, I get ready. I put on a red tube dress and apply light makeup.
I sit on the sofa in the hall, impatiently waiting for him.
The minutes turn into hours, and anticipation slowly transforms into disappointment. George is late again.
Doubts creep into my mind, whispering fears that he has forgotten about our anniversary or perhaps chosen not to return.
Feeling the weight of exhaustion settle upon me, I contemplate retiring to bed, the hope for a joyful reunion dwindling. But just as I resign myself to sleep, the sound of the front door creaking open pierces the silence. Hope flickers to life once more, dispelling the darkness that has settled within me.
With an eager heart, I hurry towards the entrance, ready to embrace George in my arms. But my steps come to a halt as I see his unsteady steps. The smell of alcohol wafts in the air.
I am a little disappointed, but I still smile and welcome him.
"You are back." I take his briefcase from his hand. "I will help you wash up, and then we will eat."
I reach out to hold his arm, fearing he will tumble with his unsteady steps. Before I can say another word, George pulls me into a tight embrace, his lips crashing against mine in a flurry of passionate kisses.
The briefcase slips from my grasp.
Conflicting emotions surge within me. Part of me yearns for his touch, for the love and intimacy we shared in the past. But another part of me hesitates, worried about the repercussions of our actions, especially with my pregnancy.
I want him to stop. Yet George's intensity refuses to waver. A surge of memories and emotions wash over me, momentarily overshadowing the disappointment and concern that has plagued my heart.
In that intimate embrace, I feel the familiar warmth of our connection, the tenderness that has woven its way into the fabric of our relationship.
Despite the effects of alcohol, his touch carries a hint of kindness and affection.
My fingers instinctively find their place against his cheek, gently caressing his stubble. The taste of familiarity lingers on his lips, evoking a flood of emotions. I longed for the reassurance of his love.
He sweeps me off my feet, carrying me effortlessly toward our bedroom. His strength and the touch of his lips on mine ignite a spark of desire within me, a reminder of the passionate bond we have cultivated over time.
At that moment, I allow myself to surrender to the intensity of our connection and embrace the tenderness that still lingers beneath the surface.
The room around us seems to fade into the background, with the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm and intimate ambiance. Each touch, each caress, speaks volumes of the love that has blossomed between us.
He is covering me with kisses. I cannot help but moan.
Our bodies moved in harmony, a dance of longing and affection.
I find joy and solace in his arms, and the fear leaves my heart. I only relish the sweetness of this moment.
After crazy sex, I lay motionless like a dead fish and watch him go into the bathroom. A smile tugs on the corners of my lips as I wait for him to come out. I can’t wait to see his reaction.
He exits the bathroom a few minutes later and starts dressing up.
I sit up, wondering where he is going at this hour.
"Are you not going to eat?" I ask.
He pauses and glances at me over his shoulder. "I want to end this marriage," he says without a trace of emotion.
