then another one two days later. That confirmed it.
My pregnancy is non-viable.
Is that language supposed to make it easier? Non-viable. Saying it that way is cold. Clinical.
Completely fucking devastating.
There’s no room for grief between non and viable. There’s no space for me to understand that everything that has given me strength never even existed at all.
After the doctor confirmed it, he told me I had to have an injection with a drug I couldn’t pronounce. Keeping the pregnancy would be extremely dangerous for me. The egg implanted itself in my Fallopian tube, which could rupture if the embryo grows.
I have no choice. I’m confused. Hurt. Destroyed.
I asked for a few days, and the doctor reluctantly agreed. After we got the diagnosis, Theo brought me back to his chambers and sat in a chair, staring at the floor.
After a while, he took a deep breath. “I’d better delay the wedding preparations,” he’d said, shattering my heart with six words. Then, he left the room, and I’ve been alone ever since.
Alone with my non-viable ectopic pregnancy, and the baby that will never be.
Alone with my thoughts that circle around and around and around.
Alone with the crippling thoughts of what’s to come.
The injection. The loss.
Is it possible to lose something you never had? I never had this baby. Not really. But in my mind, it was real. It was the one thing that made my life have purpose. It was the one thing that gave me the courage to tell Theo how I felt. It gave me the freedom to let go of my old dreams, and chase after my new ones.
Now what do I have left?
Theo’s been gone for over an hour. I don’t even know if he wants me anymore. Maybe his whole grand romantic gesture—coming to New York to bring me home, telling me he loved me, saying he wanted our baby—it’s all changed now.
If we’re not having a baby together, does he still want me? Did he only come and bring me back to Argyle out of duty? Maybe the love he felt for me was only because he knew that I was carrying his child, and he didn’t want the controversy to crop up later in his time as King.
Minutes tick by, and my thoughts become more and more bitter.
I gave up everything to come back. My place at Juilliard. My independence. My future.
Now what?
Theo could turn around and tell me he doesn’t want me anymore, because I’m no longer the mother of his child. I was a problem before. A potential controversy. A scandal waiting to happen.
Marrying me was a convenient solution.
What happens when the problem disappears? Does he still want me at all?
Why. Isn’t. He. Here.
The pillow is soaked with my tears. My face is swollen and my hair is matted. Everything aches, most of all my heart.
I stare at the door in Theo’s bedroom, wondering why he left. He wants to delay the wedding. Isn’t that a sign of how he feels? He never wanted me at all. I need him to hold me. To kiss my temple and run his fingers through my hair. I need him to show me that he still cares about me. Still loves me.
Finally, I pull myself together. If Theo isn’t going to be here with me, I might as well seek out people who care. I need to go home.
I gather a few of my things in my purse and head out the door. A staff member bows to me when I exit Theo’s chambers.
“Where’s the King?” I ask.
The man bows his head again. “I believe he’s in his offices.” He gestures down the hall.
With every step, my emotions rage and roil within me. I ask a few other members of staff for directions, finally finding my way to a heavy-looking wooden door. A guard stands outside, lifting his arm to stop me.
“The King asked not to be disturbed.”
“He’ll want to see me.” I cross my arms.
“He was very clear, Miss.”
I resist the urge to stomp my feet. “I promise you, the King will want you to open this door.”
“I’m following direct orders from the King, Miss Shoal,” the guard says, his face remaining impassive. “No one is to bother His Majesty.”
I try to force my way back, but the guard very carefully puts his hand on my shoulders to stop me. As hard as I struggle, he doesn’t budge. I try to shout out, but there’s no noise on the other side of the door.