Chapter 342

Nina

The air between us was stifling. Enzo’s eyes, usually the kind of warm brown that reminded me of a cozy, crackling fireplace, were now a stormy, uncertain hue.

He was hurt; that much was glaringly apparent.

“You’re asking me if I would’ve had an abortion without telling you,” I finally whispered, breaking the tension that was tightly gripping us both. “The truth, Enzo, is yes… I considered it.”

Enzo looked like I had just jammed a knife through his chest. “Why?” he murmured. “We’re supposed to be honest with each other, Nina. Why would you even consider keeping something like that from me?”

“Because,” I said with a sigh, “I was scared, not just for me, but for you, too.”

His brow furrowed as he looked at me. “Scared for me? Nina, how could you even think about making such a monumental decision on your own?”

I looked at him, my eyes pleading for understanding. “It’s because of your new job, Enzo. You’ve got a chance to work with this hockey team, to do something that you’ve always dreamed of. You could be spending months away from home, focusing entirely on this. I thought that a baby would just… derail everything for you.”

Enzo shook his head, clearly frustrated. He moved away, running his hands through his already disheveled hair.

For a moment, he paced back and forth by the window, looking out over the ocean. The waves crashing below against the side of the cliff felt like the perfect representation of his inner turmoil, of a storm brewing in his mind. And I felt the same way.

“But Nina, that’s my decision to make, too,” he finally said, turning to face me. “You can’t just decide for both of us.”

“And what about my decision, Enzo?” My voice wavered, and I clenched my fists to steady myself. “I have medical school. Would I have to give up my dreams as well? Do you think I can manage an intensive program and motherhood at the same time?”

He stopped his pacing and looked at me, truly looked at me, as if for the first time seeing the woman standing before him—filled with dreams, yes, but also with fears and vulnerabilities. “I’m sorry, Nina. I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant…”

Tears pricked my eyes, blurring my vision. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just that… I didn’t know if I could do it. And I didn't want to force you into a corner, make you choose between your dreams and...this.”

“You think I’d see our child as an obstruction? As a detour I didn’t plan?”

“Wouldn’t it be?” I countered softly.

Enzo’s shoulders sagged as he closed the distance between us. His eyes, those turbulent windows into his soul, softened. He took me into his arms, the place that had always been my sanctuary, and just held me. No more words were needed in that moment; his touch spoke of promises, of shared dreams, and yes, of shared fears too.

“I’m not angry,” he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. “I’m just hurt that you would think you had to carry this alone. You should have told me right from the start. I’ve been working away, having fun, while you’ve been here dealing with...this. Not to mention going to the hospital without telling me.”

“I just wanted to protect you,” I sobbed, my tears now free-falling as if a dam had burst. “Protect us. I didn’t want us to have to make this impossible choice. I was trying to shoulder it myself, to spare you at least.”

“But we’re a team, remember? We face life together, whatever it brings,” Enzo murmured as he stroked my hair, comforting me in the way only he knew how. The room around us felt a little less claustrophobic, as if our emotional release had given us both room to breathe.

“Can we...can we take some time? To think? Maybe then we can figure out what we really want,” I whispered.

Enzo nodded, his chin brushing against the top of my head. “Yeah, we can do that, Nina. We’ll take the time we need to decide what’s right for us. And whatever that decision is, we’ll make it together.”

…

I woke up nestled in Enzo’s arms, my head resting comfortably on his chest. For a brief, blissful moment, the world outside didn't matter.

It was just the two of us, wrapped in the warmth of our shared bed and the soft morning light filtering through the windows. But that illusion shattered as a wave of nausea washed over me. I hastily disentangled myself from Enzo and rushed to the bathroom.

The cold tiles felt almost comforting against my palms as I hunched over the toilet bowl, emptying the contents of my stomach. When it was over, I rinsed my mouth and splashed water on my face, trying to wash away the last remnants of sickness.

I looked at my reflection—the same but also irrevocably changed. The weight of yesterday’s conversation settled back in, looming large in the spacious bathroom.

When I finally ventured downstairs, the comforting scent of chamomile greeted me. Enzo was in the kitchen, arranging toast on a plate and carefully pouring hot water into a cup. My eyes met his, and in that glance, I found the home that had momentarily felt so distant.

“I made you some tea and toast,” he said, looking up and smiling that half-smile that never failed to disarm me. “Some light breakfast to help settle your stomach.”

I nodded, taking a seat on our plush couch. Enzo brought over a blanket and the tray, placing them on the coffee table in front of me. He wrapped the blanket around my shoulders before sitting next to me, his presence both familiar and reassuring.

The tea was soothing, the toast perfectly buttered. But as I sipped and nibbled, I found myself contemplating the complexities of the life we were suddenly immersed in.

“I can’t believe you’re doing all this for me,” I said, my fingers absently tracing the patterns on the blanket. “Imagine nine months of this. You running around, worrying about me, while you’re supposed to be working your dream job.”

He looked at me, and his eyes were as clear as the day we met. “What about your dreams, Nina?”

That question struck me harder than I wanted to admit. I was suddenly transported back to the night before, when I blurted out: “What about my decision, Enzo?”

It was a question that I should have asked myself more. For a long time, maybe I had been too focused on what other people wanted—or what I needed to do—to think about what I wanted.

“Look, you don’t have to decide on anything right now,” Enzo said softly, pulling me from my thoughts. “We can wait, think things through, and figure it out together.”

I looked at him, my heart swelling with a love that was complicated by the choices we were facing. But underlying that love was a tiny shred of doubt, a shadow that loomed over every warm moment we shared.

Could we really manage this pregnancy? Could I continue with medical school and be a mother? Could Enzo really chase his dreams if he was constantly worrying about me?

I didn’t have the answers, and neither did he. But I realized, with a kind of quiet clarity, that maybe it was okay to be unsure for now.

For what felt like forever, I had built my life around certainties—exam grades, scholarships, and career paths.

Maybe it was time to navigate the unpredictable, to let myself be uncertain while holding tightly to the one certainty I had: Enzo and I, trying to figure it out, whatever ‘it’ turned out to be.