The maternity wing was warr than the lobby, the air carrying a faint blend of lavender air freshener and sothing unmistakably clinical beneath it, antiseptic, clean floors, and the faint hum of machines behind closed doors. Willow walked beside Victor with slow steps, her hand occasionally drifting toward the underside of her belly as if the movent grounded her.
They had been coming here for three months now, Lamaze classes every Friday and prenatal workshops sprinkled between. It should have felt familiar and routine. Instead everything tightened around her ribs in a way that made her feel slightly wrong inside her own skin.
The receptionist recognized them imdiately and waved them toward the waiting area outside the birthing classroom. She smiled warmly as she tapped their nas on the list and said, "You two are early today. Beautiful couple. Go right in, they are setting up."
Willow felt her chest lock. The words hit her the way a mory sotis hits, swift and uninvited, landing in the wrong place.
Victor did not correct her. His expression did not even flicker.
He thanked the woman courteously and guided Willow inside with a light touch at her elbow. She did not shrug him off, but her body went subtly stiff beneath his hand. He must have felt it because he quietly let his arm fall back to his side.
Inside, the birthing room looked exactly as it always did. Mats were rolled out across the floor in soft pastels. Exercise balls were stacked against the wall. A television screen paused on a slide showing diagrams of pelvises and fetal positions. Other couples shuffled in slowly, laughing lightly and trading jokes about swollen feet and nursery paint colors.
Willow lowered herself onto one of the mats with slow, asured movents. She felt grateful when Victor offered his hand for balance. She did not want to need help, but she accepted it anyway and lowered her body carefully onto the supportive cushion beneath her.
"Comfortable?" he asked once she settled.
"As much as I can be," she murmured.
He sat behind her in the usual supportive partner position the course always encouraged, knees raised, back straight, ready to be the steady surface she leaned against during breathing exercises.
She hated how familiar it felt.
The instructor clapped her hands together and launched into the day’s agenda. She explained that they would begin with relaxation breathing before moving on to delivery positions and comfort asures. She looked around the room and said cheerfully, "Partners, hands ready."
Willow felt her pulse kick uncomfortably at the words.
Victor placed one palm lightly against her upper back to guide her posture. The touch was steady and warm, familiar in ways that suddenly felt wrong. She felt the ghost of Zane behind her, the mory of his warmth wrapping around her the night before, the reverent way his hand had settled on her belly, and the quiet way he had whispered, "May I?" as if the question itself had been sacred.
She closed her eyes tightly.
"Willow?" Victor murmured near her ear. "Your breathing is a little fast. Are you okay?"
She nodded before the truth could escape.
The instructor moved them into partner supported leaning positions. Victor shifted behind her, placing one hand at her hip while the other braced behind her shoulder to steady her balance. Willow inhaled slowly and tried to focus on the instructor’s voice instead of the person touching her.
She felt as though she were living soone else’s life in soone else’s class.
She hated how much she wished it were Zane sitting behind her. The thought had nothing to do with romance or fantasy. It had everything to do with the truth the previous night had forced her to face.
She wanted him there.
That alone was dangerous enough to ruin everything.
Half an hour into the class the instructor invited participants to share their labor expectations and fears. A woman across the room raised her hand and began speaking about her first birth. She explained how her water had broken at thirty weeks and how she had been rushed into an ergency cesarean section. Her voice trembled as she described alarms sounding, nurses rushing through the room, and the sudden terror that the baby’s heart rate had dropped without warning.
The room grew quiet as the woman continued speaking.
Willow felt her breathing thin. A tightening pulled sharply across her abdon. The sensation froze her mid inhale but did not feel painful. She recognized it imdiately as a Braxton Hicks contraction. The tightening rolled across her belly like a sudden shift in tide. Her hands moved instinctively to her sides.
Victor noticed imdiately. His hand moved to her forearm, warm and steady.
"Willow," he whispered as he leaned slightly closer. "You are tightening up. Do you want to step outside?"
He was right. Her stomach had pulled into a firm knot, the kind that was normal but unsettling when fear accompanied it.
Willow nodded and pressed her lips together while trying to regulate her breathing so she would not cause a scene.
Victor rose first and offered both hands to help her stand. She took one. That alone was enough. He guided her carefully toward the hallway and their exit remained quiet enough not to draw attention.
The mont the door closed behind them the cooler hallway air washed across her skin. Willow leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes.
"It is just a practice contraction," she said softly, trying to reassure both him and herself. "It surprised . That is all."
Victor watched her carefully. His expression was concerned, but he remained close without crowding her.
"You look pale," he said gently. "Sit for a mont."
She nodded and lowered herself onto a bench beside the window. Her hand remained pressed against her belly until the tightening passed and left behind only a dull exhaustion.
Victor crouched beside her and spoke quietly. "Are you dizzy?"
"No. Just overwheld." Her voice sounded thin but honest.
He hesitated briefly before brushing his thumb beneath one of her eyes, wiping away a tear she had not realized had fallen.
She jerked slightly, not in anger but in surprise at the familiarity of the gesture.
"Sorry," he murmured as he withdrew his hand. "Reflex."
"It is okay," she whispered, although she was not certain that it was.
They sat together in silence for several breaths. Willow stared at the maternity posters lining the hallway walls. The smiling couples and perfect babies looked like advertisents for tidy futures. Her own life felt nothing like that. It felt like a house supported by mismatched beams, each piece holding up another but none strong enough to survive a serious strain.
The Braxton Hicks contraction had eased. Her heart had not.
"I think we should leave early," Victor said gently. "There is no reason to push yourself more."
Willow nodded, grateful for the excuse to leave. She did not trust herself to sit through any more stories.
By the ti they reached the parking lot the outside air felt cold enough to sting her cheeks. Victor slowed his pace so she would not need to hurry. He carried her bag without asking and opened the car door for her before she could reach it. He did not hover, but he watched her carefully.
Willow kept her eyes lowered.
The guilt crept upward slowly and heavily.
Victor was a good man. He was steady and dependable, the kind of person who helped build a life soone else could stand on when everything else had collapsed.
And yet her thoughts continued circling one person.
The realization made her feel disloyal in a way that had nothing to do with romance and everything to do with decency.
By the ti they drove back toward her apartnt Willow had grown quieter than she had been all morning. Victor spoke only once to ask if she was feeling better, and when she struggled to answer he allowed the silence to settle again.
The familiar safety of her apartnt deepened her exhaustion. Willow lowered herself onto the couch and leaned her head back as her eyes fluttered closed.
Victor called her obstetrician and calmly relayed her symptoms over the phone with the efficient composure he carried everywhere.
When he finished the call he turned back toward her and said softly, "She confird it was Braxton Hicks. It is normal. You just need to hydrate and rest."
Willow nodded slowly and felt relief loosen her shoulders.
Victor set a water bottle beside her and crouched in front of the couch while studying her face. The warmth in his gaze was steady and deeply personal.
"Today scared you," he said quietly.
She did not deny it because she no longer had the energy to pretend otherwise. The mont the words left Victor’s mouth, Willow felt sothing inside her shift, as if the ground beneath her emotional footing had quietly moved. This was not Zane standing in front of her, and it was not the storm that had suddenly returned to her life and unsettled everything she thought she had already survived. This was the life she had built in the years since then, solid in its structure, dependable in its rhythm, unromantic in many ways but necessary for the stability she had needed to keep moving forward. Yet as she sat there looking at Victor, she felt the divide inside her widen in a way she could no longer ignore. This day, this mont, and the quiet tenderness in his voice marked the beginning of a decision she had been resisting since Zane walked back into her world. She would have to let Zane go before his presence tangled itself so deeply into her life that he beca another casualty of the chaos that seed to follow her wherever she went.
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