Chapter 61 Between The Lines

• The black and white image on the ultrasound printout is seared into my mind as I stare out the window of Marcel’s truck. Eight weeks. That tiny flickering heartbeat, our little bean, has been growing inside me for eight weeks. It’s surreal, knowing that a new life is blossoming within me, a perfect blend of Marcel and myself.
• A small smile tugs at my lips despite the lingering tension between us, a flicker of warmth spreading across my chest as I absently rub my thumb over the glossy paper. The doctor’s reassurances still echo in my ears—everything looks good, right on track.
• I’m pulled out of my thoughts as Marcel suddenly flicks on the turn signal, pulling into the drive-thru of a smoothie shop. I shoot him a questioning glance, and before I can mutter a sound, he says matter-of-factly, “You hardly ate this morning. You need to eat something, especially now.”