Chapter Text
Positive.
A pair of obsidian eyes stared at the lines on the test.
Not a single emotion crossed her face: neither joy, fear, or grief.
Her poker face remained intact, as it always, or almost always, did.
But on the inside, feelings, some of which she didn’t even think she would ever feel, were growing rapidly, tormenting her soul.
And it wasn’t the kind of torment that she liked, as much as it was dreadful and made her sick.
If she didn’t consider fear completely irrational and weak, she would have accepted that she was terrified by those two lines.
Wednesday closed her eyes and took a deep breath, the words she had said to her mother echoing in her head.
“I’ll never fall in love or be a housewife or have a family”
And yet here she was.
Her gaze moved from the test in one of her hands to her wedding ring in the other.
At least I’m not a housewife.
Nonetheless, she hadn’t been forced by anyone to do anything. All those had been her choices, only hers.
“I would love one day to be a father - he had said answering her question - but if you don’t want it is okay, it is not like I’m going to die if I don’t have a kid.”
Unfortunately for him, she was a careful observer: she had noticed the sparkle that lit up in his eyes whenever he hold Indigo, Enid and Ajax’s older son, in his arms or with how much love he took care of their cats.
I should have left him rotting in prison.
Her reflection in the mirror started at her now.
The sooner I tell him the better. She thought, but even in her thoughts, her words were unsteady.
Tightening in her hand the object that was going to change their lives forever, she unlocked the door of the bathroom and went to search for her husband.
-
Xavier Thorpe, Wednesday’s husband for two years and her boyfriend for nine, was busy enjoying that wonderful - horrible as Wednesday had said that morning looking out of the window - sunny day, painting in his studio.
The sunshine filled the room through the enormous windows, illuminating the dark paint he was occupied with laying on the empty canvas in front of him.
It was a particularly good period. Everything was going well. He hadn’t dreamt a lot, and when he did it was always about the person who slept next to him, whom he loved more than his life.
Without even knowing she had bought comfort into his lonely and messed up life.
He hadn’t planned to fall in love with the girl who had put him in jail, but love doesn’t have masters I guess.
His hand moved gently the brush: small, slow strokes; mind completely blank.
A meowing got his attention.
“Do you want to go out?” The painter asked, putting down the brush and walking towards the black kitten who was scratching the door.
Meows intensified.
“I’m coming, I’m coming” he laughed softly taking the kitten in his arms.
“Here you go,” he said kissing the furry little head while opening the door.
The dark figure outside his studio made him wince.
“Wednesday, love, what were you doing outside my door like that?” He asked, taking a deep breath, letting the kitten on the floor of the house.
“I was coming to see you” she answered as if standing outside of a door was the most normal thing ever.
“How long have you been there?” He asked, smiling at his wife.
“Long enough to hear you talking like an idiot to our cat” she answered emotionless, making her way into his studio.
“Rude” he turned around following his wife.
Wednesday made herself comfortable on the room sofa, moving the paint-stained towels and brushes that invaded the space.
She liked his studio. The smell of acrylic paints and pencils had impregnated everything around her: the furniture, the carpet, the sofa she was on; sometimes she could smell it also on Xavier, no matter how many showers he took. It was part of his essence, and she liked it.
The sofa bent a little bit under the weight of another guest.
Xavier silently watched his wife looking around his studio, studying every painting like it was her first time.
Wednesday had never been good at expressing her feelings, someone who didn’t know her could have said that she was heartless, but Xavier had learned to read her: she would have rather die than express her feelings with words, but her actions were the ones that mattered when it came to say: “I love you”.
One of the most common was asking her husband the story behind every painting: she would sit on the sofa, like she was doing right now, look around his atelier, point to the one that had got her attention that time, and ask about it. They spent hours on this little game.
“What are you painting?” Her obsidian eyes locked into his storm green.
“To be honest, I don’t have a clue - he answered, letting his hair down - I have been dreaming about it for some nights. I haven’t figured out what it is, I don’t remember anything when I wake up, but, uhm, - he completely captured his wife’s attention - it brings me joy, a deep joy that makes me feel complete.”
Wednesday nodded slightly.
The canvas was still more white than black, but the little brushstrokes started creating what seemed the base form of the object, a fruit perhaps.
“We need to talk.”
Her statement got him by surprise.
“Sure, what’s wrong?” He asked, a mix between worry and perplexity painted on his face.
Wednesday stared in silence at her husband. Why was it so complicated to talk to him? She was always so straightforward, but when it came to him her words mixed up, and her thoughts became unclear; it was terrifying the power he had on her, and he didn’t even realise it.
“Darling, did something happen? - His protective self towards her was showing up - did someone hurt you?”
Xavier moved closer to her, his eyes scanning her, searching for some kind of bruise or wound.
His hand, reaching out for her cheek, stopped in mid-air, a sudden thought springing in his head, making his face turn pale.
“Is it about me?” He asked, trying to disguise the shaking in his voice.
Wednesday felt a tug at the heart. Her body moved before she could realise what she was doing: she took his mid-air hand and put it on her cheek, resting her forehead on his.
She didn’t really like physical contact, but when her husband dared to think that something was his fault even when it wasn’t it was her only way to reassure him. It was ironic how she, a world-renowned writer, had difficulties expressing her love towards her husband.
She felt his shaking breath against her skin.
She hated seeing him like that, she preferred him much more with his idiotic smile painted on his lips.
“Xavier - words flying out of her mouth as a whisper, catching his attention - you didn’t do anything, please calm down.”
Xavier closed his eyes, embracing her scent.
Wednesday leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his lips. She showed her soft and caring side only to him when they were alone. In public, she was the Wednesday that everyone knew and feared.
“I’m pregnant” she murmured in a breath.
Xavier’s eyes shot wide open.
“What?” He asked, looking at her as Wednesday got back to her original position, her face blank of emotion.
“What?” He repeated in disbelief.
“We are going to have a baby,” she said with the same tone a normal person would have announced to their significant other that they were going to the grocery shop.
“Listen Wens, I love you so much, but you can’t just joke about-”
Wednesday sighed annoyed at her husband before handing him the test.
“I’m not joking.”
Xavier stared at it as if it was some kind of alien object.
“Are you sure?” He questioned after a while without looking her in the face.
“I have done ten of those things if that’s what you are asking, but we need the doctor’s confirmation to be 100% sure.”
Silence fell in the room. It seemed as if time had stopped.
Short stands of sand hair fell on his forehead. Wednesday gently moved them behind his ear, indulging an extra moment of his cheek. His skin was warm and soft.
“But why? - he finally asked, waking up from his stupor at her touch - you always told everyone that you didn’t want to become a mother.”
“I also used to say that I didn’t want to get married.” Her lips formed a small smile.
A spark lit up in his eyes. He stood up, lift her in his arms, and started spinning around his studio, laughing with joy.
When the initial explosion of happiness finished, he put her down, without, however, letting her go.
Xavier hugged her, tightening her to him as if she could disappear at any time, praying within himself that it wasn’t just a dream.
“Thank you” were the only words that broke that wonderful silence.
Wednesday didn’t answer and tightened herself more on him, enjoying everything about him. That was home for her.
“Can we please wait some time before telling anyone else?” She asked, not daring to move from her position.
“All that you want, my love.”
Wednesday smiled, a complete, teeth-showing, smile.
Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad.