I was going to work. She was in the kitchen section behind the counter when I went into the living room. I was doing up my tie. She’d made me coffee and French toast. She pushed them across the counter. “Here. I’ve decided I’m gonna keep it. I don’t wanna get rid of it… I wanna have it.” Her words hit me like a punch in the gut, winding me, but I couldn’t blame her. If it had been my kid, I would’ve wanted her to keep it. I kept moving, hoping I hadn’t shown any hesitation. Things had been different between us since the impact of her revelation. She’d been quiet, withdrawn, and tired all the time, and I hadn’t seen her smile. She could’ve run with me last night, but she hadn’t wanted to come. It seemed like my Rachel had fallen into darkness. Her internal lights had gone out––her eyes didn’t shine anymore. She’d spent most of the time crying, not laughing, and she hardly ever spoke. We still hadn’t made love since I’d found out about the baby either, and it wasn’t that I didn’t want to, it was just I didn’t know if she did.
