Chapter 5 The weight of secrets

The next morning, Leah was already awake when the sun filtered through the curtains. She hadn't slept much again.

The pregnancy test lay hidden beneath a pile of old receipts in her drawer. Out of sight, but not out of mind.

She sat on the edge of her bed, fingers knotted tightly in her lap. She had to tell him. Soon. Before it spiraled out of her control. Before he found out from someone else... or noticed it himself.

Her hand drifted to her flat stomach.

A child.

His child.

The thought made her heart race with both dread and something dangerously close to hope.

Would he be furious?

Would he think she had planned this?

Or worse would he ask her to get rid of it?

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.

She stood, tugging on a robe, and opened the door.

Xavier stood there, crisp and cold as usual in a charcoal suit. His hair was slightly tousled, like he'd run a frustrated hand through it that morning.

"I have a breakfast meeting. Do you want to come?"

She blinked. "With...?"

"A few board members. Nothing serious. Just optics. If you're up for it."

Optics.

That one word reminded her exactly what this was.

A contract. A performance.

And suddenly, her stomach turned again but this time, not from morning sickness.

"No, I think I'll stay home today."

He studied her carefully. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm just tired."

He nodded slowly. "All right. Rest. I'll be back around noon."

She watched him leave.

And when the door clicked shut, the apartment felt emptier than ever.

Leah tried to distract herself by cleaning again.

She scrubbed the already-spotless kitchen, wiped down the windows, reorganized the pantry. But her mind kept drifting.

Every time she paused, her hand went to her belly.

She hadn't even said the words out loud yet.

"I'm pregnant."

She whispered it to the empty room.

It didn't make it feel any more real. Or any less terrifying.

At the same time, across the city, Xavier sat at a table in a sleek downtown restaurant, his mind only half on the conversation.

One of the older board members, Charles, was droning on about diversification strategies and fiscal restructuring.

Xavier barely heard him.

His mind was back at the penthouse.

Leah had looked pale again this morning. Her eyes were ringed with shadows, her frame more fragile than usual. And her voice it had that forced calmness he'd learned to recognize.

Something's wrong.

He hadn't wanted to push. Not after everything they'd been through the past week. But the feeling lingered in his chest like a shadow he couldn't shake.

"You're distracted today, Xavier," Charles said, pulling him back to the present. "Everything all right on the home front?"

Xavier's jaw twitched.

He hated how quickly people had started asking about his "home life," now that he had a wife.

"It's fine," he replied smoothly.

But even as he said it, doubt crept in.

Back at the penthouse, Leah stood by the living room windows, phone in hand.

She'd Googled clinics. Private OBs. Early prenatal tips.

But none of it felt real.

She needed confirmation. Something concrete. Something beyond a plastic stick and missed dates.

She opened a new tab and began scheduling a private appointment.

Just one checkup. Just to know for sure.

Maybe then she'd have the courage to tell him.

But as her fingers hovered over the final confirmation screen, a wave of dizziness swept over her.

She sank onto the couch, closing her eyes.

This wasn't sustainable.

She couldn't keep living like this. Lying to him. Lying to herself.

Xavier returned earlier than expected.

Leah was still curled up on the sofa when the elevator doors opened. She sat up quickly, brushing her hair back, trying to look normal.

He raised an eyebrow as he stepped inside, slipping out of his suit jacket. "Didn't expect you to still be in pajamas."

"I didn't sleep well," she replied, her voice quieter than she intended.

He moved toward the kitchen. "I brought coffee."

She followed him, unsure what to say. She'd rehearsed it all in her head how she would tell him, what words she'd use but now, with him here, her mouth refused to move.

Xavier handed her a cup and leaned against the marble island, watching her.

"Leah."

She froze mid-sip.

"I know something's wrong."

Her fingers tightened around the cup.

"You've been distant. Quiet. You've barely eaten. You were sick yesterday morning. And again today."

"I told you, I just"

"No," he said firmly. "Don't lie to me. Not now."

She stared down into the coffee. Her stomach churned again, but this time it wasn't the pregnancy it was the weight of fear pressing down on her chest.

"You're scaring me," he added, voice softer now. "If you're sick, I need to know."

"I'm not sick," she said quickly. "Not... not like that."

He straightened. "Then what is it?"

Her throat tightened. Every cell in her body screamed to say it.

But she panicked.

"It's just stress," she lied again. "I'll be fine."

He didn't look convinced.

He stepped closer, eyes narrowing. "Is it me? Is it this arrangement?"

"No. I mean... not exactly."

He tilted his head. "Then what?"

She hesitated too long.

His jaw clenched. "You don't trust me."

"I do," she whispered. "I just don't know how to say it."

"Say what, Leah?"

She opened her mouth. Closed it again. Her hands were trembling.

"I"

Before she could speak, his phone rang again.

He cursed under his breath, checked the screen. "It's the firm. I have to-"

"Go," she said, almost too quickly. "It's okay."

He stared at her for a second, then answered the call and walked into the study, the door shutting behind him.

She sank back onto the stool, the words burning a hole inside her.

I'm pregnant.

She almost had it out.

Later that afternoon

Leah sat in the sunroom, fingers pressed to her temples, a cold compress on the back of her neck.

Her head ached from too much thinking and too little sleep.

A soft voice startled her. "Ma'am?"

It was Clarissa, the housekeeper, standing in the doorway with concern written all over her face.

"I didn't want to intrude, but... you don't look well."

Leah gave a faint smile. "It's just a headache."

Clarissa hesitated. "Forgive me, but... are you sure it's not something more?"

Leah blinked.

Clarissa stepped inside. "I've worked in this house long enough to notice patterns. Missed meals. Mood shifts. Nausea in the morning."

Leah's heart pounded.

"I'm not prying," the older woman added gently. "But... if you are with child, you should take care of yourself properly."

Leah stared at her, speechless.

Clarissa's eyes softened even further. "When I was pregnant with my first, I was scared out of my mind. I thought my world would fall apart."

"And did it?" Leah whispered.

"No," she said with a kind smile. "It just became a different world."

Leah looked away, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.

Clarissa quietly placed a small brown bag on the table.

"What's this?" Leah asked.

"Ginger tea. Good for the mornings."

And then, without another word, Clarissa left.

Leah stared at the bag for a long time.

Someone knew. And instead of judgment, there was kindness.

That... that changed everything.

Evening

Xavier didn't speak much at dinner.

He studied her between bites of grilled salmon, clearly still turning over whatever it was she hadn't said earlier.

Finally, he spoke. "I had your doctor's office call me today."

Leah looked up, startled. "What?"

"I asked them to run a panel. I thought maybe you were coming down with something."

Her blood turned cold. "You... what did they say?"

"They couldn't give me anything without your consent. But they asked if you'd been in recently."

She swallowed hard.

He leaned forward. "Have you?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"This morning."

His eyes sharpened. "What for?"

She hesitated, then stood up abruptly, unable to sit still any longer.

"I need some air."

"Leah."

"I just please. Don't follow me."

She left the dining room before she broke down.

Rooftop Garden Twenty Minutes Later

Leah leaned against the railing, the city lights below her a blur.

The breeze lifted her hair, cool against her flushed skin. The pressure in her chest wouldn't ease. She needed to say it. She had to say it.

Footsteps behind her.

She didn't turn around.

"I told you not to follow me."

"I didn't listen," Xavier said simply.

Silence stretched between them.

"Are you going to tell me now?" he asked quietly.

She turned to face him. The wind tugged at her robe. Her eyes burned.

"I'm pregnant," she said finally. No preamble. No buildup. Just the truth.

Xavier's face froze.

Everything in him seemed to go still.

She waited for anger, for disappointment, for anything.

But he said nothing.

Seconds passed.

Then: "You're sure?"

She nodded, tears slipping down her cheek. "I took two tests. I have an appointment next week to confirm everything."

He exhaled like he'd been punched in the gut. Ran a hand through his hair.

"You weren't going to tell me?"

"I tried," she said, her voice shaking. "So many times. But I was scared."

"Of me?"

"I didn't know how you'd react. This wasn't part of the plan, Xavier."

He looked at her, eyes unreadable. "No. It wasn't."

She took a step back. "If you want me to leave."

"Stop," he said sharply.

She blinked.

"I don't want you to leave," he said more gently. "I just... I need a minute to process this."

She nodded quickly. "Okay."

Xavier turned, took a few steps away. Then back again. He looked like he was at war with himself.

Finally, he asked, "Do you want this baby?"

The question sliced through the noise in her head.

"Yes," she whispered. "I do."

That answer seemed to shake something loose in him. He came closer.

"And me?" he asked, voice lower now. "Do you still want me, Leah?"

Her breath hitched.

"I don't know," she admitted. "You make it hard. You say one thing and feel another. You pull me in and push me away."

He looked down.

"I've never had something real before," he said. "Not like this. I don't know how to handle it."

She stared at him. "Then learn."

He looked up again and this time, there was no coldness in his eyes. Just raw, aching honesty.

"I'm trying."

He reached out then, and she didn't stop him.

His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear.

"You're going to be the mother of my child," he said softly. "That means something to me. You mean something to me."

She stepped closer, resting her forehead against his chest.

For the first time, she let herself believe maybe this wasn't the end but the beginning.