Chapter 18: The Secret in the Bathroom
It was a Tuesday morning, six months after the spare room had been painted a very soft, soothing sage green.
I was in the kitchen, brewing coffee and packing Chloe’s lunch for school.
The house was quiet, still wrapped in the gentle embrace of the early morning.
Evelyn walked down the stairs. Her footsteps were unusually slow.
I turned around, holding a sandwich in a ziplock bag.
Evelyn was standing at the edge of the kitchen.
She wasn't wearing her usual sharp work attire.
She was in her plush bathrobe, her hands trembling slightly as she clutched something small against her chest.
Her eyes were wide, brimming with unshed tears.
Panic spiked in my chest for a fraction of a second.
"Evelyn? Honey, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"
She shook her head rapidly, a sudden, breathless laugh escaping her lips.
She walked toward me, reached out, and opened her hand.
Resting on her palm was a white plastic stick.
Two solid pink lines.
I stopped breathing. The sandwich dropped from my hand, hitting the counter with a soft thud. I looked from the plastic stick up to my wife’s radiant, tear-streaked face.
"Are you serious?" I whispered, my voice cracking entirely.
"I'm pregnant, Marcus," Evelyn sobbed, throwing her arms around my neck. "We're going to have a baby."
I lifted her off the ground, spinning her around the kitchen, burying my face in her neck as my own tears flowed freely.
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I had thought my heart was entirely full, that it couldn't possibly hold any more joy. I was wrong.
The architecture of my heart was expanding, building an entirely new room for a life we had created together.
