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.