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⊰ 16 ⊱ 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.”
How did he…
…
Mauricio.
I can’t ev
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