—Why are you home so early?…— Alex mumbled, fumbling with his shirt buttons—he’d even done them up wrong. But Marina wasn’t listening. She stood frozen in the hallway, fingers clenched tight, staring at the red heels by the door. Not just any shoes—she’d know them anywhere. They belonged to Inna, her oldest friend. She’d seen them in photos, under wine glasses, laughing. But never in her own apartment.
It all started that morning at work when Marina felt suddenly sick—dizzy, nauseous. She brushed it off as exhaustion or stress until her desk mate, Ann, leaned in and whispered, ‘You’re not pregnant, are you?’
‘No, don’t be silly,’ Marina laughed, but her stomach knotted. She knew something was off. Twenty minutes later, she was locked in the office loo, gripping a test with two bold lines.
She barely remembered walking into her boss’s office or leaving work. All she knew was she had to get home, to tell Alex, to see his face light up, to cry happy tears in his arms. But…
She turned the key, flipped the light on, and there they were—those shoes. Then, whispers from the bedroom. For a second, she hoped it was a mistake, some ridiculous mix-up. But when she flung the door open, there he was—half-dressed, with Inna clutching the sheets to her chest.
‘Marina? What—?’ Alex stammered, while Inna stared at the floor, silent.
What came next was a blur—shouting, tears, things thrown across the room. Then silence. He left. Just like that. Alone in the wreckage, Marina sank to the floor, arms wrapped around her belly, where a tiny heartbeat fluttered.
Days later, she made a decision. She couldn’t tie herself to Alex forever. She couldn’t be a single mum—her parents were miles away, her friends now one fewer. Her salary wouldn’t cover nappies, let alone childcare. So she booked an appointment at a private clinic.
Sitting in the waiting room, Marina stared blankly at the wall. She was terrified. She didn’t want this baby… and yet, she did, more than anything.
‘Come in!’ called the doctor.
She stood, stepped inside—and her heart lurched.
‘Anton? Is that you?’
Her first love. The boy she’d never really forgotten. His cheek kiss at prom—still the gentlest memory she had.
‘Marina? Bloody hell, it is you!’ Anton jumped up, pulling her into a hug like no time had passed.
They talked for ten minutes straight, laughing like they were teens again. When the excitement settled, Anton finally asked, ‘But you’re here for a reason. What’s wrong?’
Marina hesitated, then told him everything—the betrayal, the baby, her decision.
‘And you’re sure you want to go through with this?’ he said softly.
‘Yes… I’m scared. I can’t do it alone…’
