Chapter Text
It was already late in the morning, on a day that felt like it had been dragging on for hours. The sun slipped in, diffused through half-open blinds, but outside heavy clouds still ruled, dropping quiet, steady rain. Inside, the air carried the faint scent of fresh coffee and toasted bread, leftovers from breakfast.
Viv sat slouched on the couch, a grey hoodie stretched tight across the swell of her belly. Her knees were pulled up, one hand resting on her stomach like she was trying to calm her own body down.
Beth sat at the other end of the couch, elbow propped on the armrest, her head resting heavily in her hand. She was still in her pajama bottoms, staring into nothing.
The TV was on, but muted. A documentary about seals flickered across the screen, the images sliding past unnoticed by either of them.
Viv’s gaze drifted slowly toward Beth.
“What’s going on with you today? You’re… different, somehow.”
Beth blinked, as if she’d only just remembered she was there.
“Nothing. Just tired, I guess.”
With a sigh, Viv let her head fall back against the cushions. She moved slowly, stiffly, like her body had grown heavy. Lifting her legs, she set them deliberately across Beth’s lap.
Beth glanced down but didn’t say anything. Her hand found Viv’s ankle automatically, thumb brushing gently over the fabric of her sweatpants.
“You nervous about later?” Viv asked.
Beth gave her a small smile, one that didn’t quite convince.
“No. It’s just routine, right?”
Viv tilted her head, brows lifting. Something inside her felt warm, but not in a way that was comfortable. She studied Beth for a long moment.
“Routine? This is the appointment, Beth. You know—birth plan, pain relief, who’s allowed in the room…”
Beth gave a look that was far from convinced. “Sounds like a party.”
“Beth…”
Beth dragged a hand through her hair, a small frown carving its way between her brows.
“I know. I’m sorry. My head’s just… not in it today.”
Viv slid her feet out of Beth’s lap and pushed herself slowly upright. She turned toward her, knees brushing lightly against Beth’s leg.
Without a word, she reached out, her hand settling against Beth’s jaw, thumb brushing softly along her cheek. She studied her face, searching for something—anything—that might give her clarity.
“You’re acting strange. Like you’re hiding something.”
Beth’s eyes flickered downward for the briefest moment. She placed her hand over Viv’s knee.
“I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
Viv pulled her hand back slowly, a little startled. This wasn’t like Beth—Beth, who could never keep a secret if it truly mattered.
“Why not?”
“Because you’re more important than whatever’s in my head right now,” Beth murmured, almost whispering.
Viv locked her eyes on hers. “That’s bullshit, Beth.”
Beth looked up again, catching the sharp intensity blazing in her girlfriend’s eyes.
“Maybe. But it’s still true. This is your body. Your delivery. I just want you to feel okay about it. I don’t matter right now.”
Viv’s shoulders sank. She folded her arms around herself, turning her face slightly away.
“I don’t want you keeping things from me. That just makes me… insecure.”
Beth let out a soft sigh and shifted closer, back into the space where their legs brushed. She reached out, slipping her fingers under Viv’s chin, urging her to meet her gaze again.
“You never have to feel insecure with me,” Beth whispered warmly.
“Then stop shutting me out!”
Viv pushed herself up, a trace of irritation in the movement, and stretched, morning stiffness still lingering in her muscles. Her hoodie rode up slightly, exposing a strip of skin above her waistband. Beth’s eyes flicked there automatically, a soft smile tugging at her lips.
“You planning to get dressed, or are you showing up to the scan in your pajamas?”
Beth glanced at her with a crooked grin. “Figured if I’m already ruining the whole experience, I might as well be comfortable.”
Viv let out a sharp huff, eyes closing briefly as if to wrestle down her irritation at Beth’s humor. She grabbed Beth’s hand and tugged her up.
“Not funny.”
Together they moved toward the bedroom. Beth quickly swept her hair back into a ponytail while Viv checked through the bag.
“Do you think everything will be okay today?”
Beth turned toward her, stepping in close behind. She slid her arms around Viv’s belly, hands settling just beneath her navel.
“I’m sure of it. And if it isn’t, we’ll deal with it. Together. Like we always do.”
A brief silence stretched between them.
“Unless you decide to hop on a plane in the next few weeks without telling me.”
Beth stiffened. Her hold on Viv’s stomach didn’t shift much, but enough to be felt.
“Where’s that coming from?”
Viv sighed softly. “Nowhere. Just a joke.”
Beth pulled away, reaching for her jacket on the hook.
“Funny, because it sounds an awful lot like you’ve been reading my mind,” she muttered.
Viv cleared her throat, catching Beth’s attention. “Is there something I should know?”
Without looking at Viv, Beth kept walking. “No. Just… a lot on my mind. Let’s just focus on the scan, okay?”
Viv let a long, uncertain silence hang between them.
“Okay. But I’m not letting this go, Beth. Not after today.”
By then they were both standing in the hallway. Beth already had the car keys clenched in her hand, but suddenly stopped. She dropped to her knees in front of Viv, placed her hands over her belly, and pressed a soft kiss there.
Viv’s hands came to rest on Beth’s head, her fingers sliding gently through her hair.
“I don’t know how to say it… so I won’t say anything at all.”
She stood up. Viv kissed her briefly, almost fleetingly, but kept her gaze fixed on Beth’s face.
“You’re already saying it. You just have to dare to finish it.”
As Viv turned to grab the bag, Beth’s eyes flicked to her phone. A message was still open: “Let me know by the day after tomorrow at the latest.”
She quickly hid the screen when she heard Viv close the zipper of the bag and slipped the phone into her jacket pocket, forcing a smile.
“Done?”
Viv chuckled softly. “With you? Never.”
Outside, the rain had stopped, but everything was still wet and glistening. The air hung heavy and gray, as if it were still raining somewhere in the distance.
They walked to the car in silence, Beth holding the umbrella half over them, though there were barely any raindrops left. Her hand rested loosely in her jacket pocket, where her phone was hidden.
Viv’s pace was slow, almost waddling. Every step seemed measured, as if her body had grown not only heavier but also more fatigued after months of pregnancy.
Beth automatically slowed her own pace, waiting for her without saying anything.
She glanced back at Beth’s tense face. “You’re really… quiet today.”
Beth’s eyes stayed fixed on the car. “Just… a lot on my mind, I guess.”
“You’ve been saying that all morning, you know?”
No answer came. Beth opened the car door for her. Viv gave her a look, as if wanting to say something, but chose instead to follow silently. Beth closed the door softly, walked around the hood, and slid into the driver’s seat.
The car rumbled to life, and the radio blared on. Taylor Swift was singing about love stories. Normally, Beth would sing along—off-key, exaggerating every note, occasionally reaching for Viv’s hand as a makeshift microphone.
But not today.
Viv looked at her. Beth’s eyes were fixed on the road, her jaw tight. Her fingers tapped on the steering wheel, but without rhythm. Her mouth remained shut.
“You’re not singing along.”
Beth shrugged. “Guess I left my voice at home this morning.”
Viv didn’t even grin, not a tiny smile. She just stared. “You always sing along.”
“Maybe I just don’t feel like it, Viv!”
The atmosphere in the car thickened—not hostile, but… uncomfortable. Something unspoken hung between them, like mist in a deep valley.
“You’d think you’d be a bit more cheerful. We’re about to see our baby. For the last time before he arrives.”
“I’m happy. I’m just… not so good at today,” Beth muttered softly.
Viv sighed and gazed out the window, trying to keep herself composed.
No fighting, Viv. Come on. Not now. Not right before the scan.
Together they entered the midwife practice, warm and quiet. In the background, piano music played—just enough to be soothing, not irritating—and a diffuser in the corner sent lavender into the air.
Beth held the door open for Viv, who stepped inside. Without thinking, Beth rested her hand on Viv’s lower back and sank into one of the chairs.
She looked around calmly: at the baby book on the table, the photo frame with a newborn, the plants by the window.
Meanwhile, Beth checked in at the reception desk. She gave the assistant a gentle smile, but her eyes didn’t quite join in the expression. The midwife herself appeared down the hallway, cheerful and welcoming.
“Vivianne! Beth! So good to see you again. Would you like to come in?”
Viv slowly eased herself upright. Beth was already beside her before she needed to say anything, instinctively reaching out her hand. Viv briefly placed hers in Beth’s.
The midwife’s office was bright, but not clinical. On the wall hung a poster showing the baby’s development by trimester. A water bottle was already set out, along with a monitor and an ultrasound machine with a clean probe.
Viv sat on the examination bed, supporting herself with both hands behind her. Beth lingered somewhere between the bed and the door, unsure exactly where she should stand.
“So, tell me, Vivianne… How are you feeling?”
She sighed softly. “Like I’m dragging around a bowling ball I have no say over.”
She tried to laugh, but fatigue was clear in her voice.
“My back is stiff, my legs keep falling asleep. I keep getting belly cramps… and sleep? I wake up as soon as I turn over. Or if Beth turns over.”
She glanced at Beth briefly, while the midwife smiled and jotted everything down.
“I’m ready. He can come. Now. Please.”
Beth chuckled softly. “He’s the only one in this house who would actually be on time.”
Viv turned her head and lightly tapped Beth’s knee with her foot. Not hard, more playful. Beth smiled back at her… briefly.
“And you, Beth? Everything alright?”
Beth’s gaze had lingered somewhere between the screen and the window, making her start slightly when she heard her name.
“Oh. Yeah. Fine.”
The midwife looked up from her tablet. “It’s okay if it feels like a lot. This period brings stress for many partners too.”
Viv smiled softly. “She’s just a little quiet today. Normally she’s not… quiet. Or serious.”
The midwife nodded kindly. “That’s okay too. This stage can be quite overwhelming. For both parents.”
Beth muttered, “Maybe I should try it. Being serious, I mean.”
Viv raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She wasn’t sure if Beth was trying to be funny or keeping her at a distance.
The midwife walked to the cabinet in the other room to grab gloves and prepare the table in the back.
Viv ran her hands over her thighs. “You know… I think I understand why you’re acting so strange.”
Beth slowly looked up. Her eyes scanned Viv’s face briefly, but she said nothing.
“It’s just… scary, right? Giving birth. You don’t have to do it yourself, but you have to watch. That must suck too.”
Beth cleared her throat and shuffled her feet slightly across the floor.
“I mean, I can imagine it’s intense. Feeling powerless. You don’t like standing on the sidelines. Watching and not being able to do anything.”
“I’m not afraid of you. Or the birth,” she whispered softly.
Viv tried to reach out gently. “But maybe you’re afraid of seeing me in pain? Or… that you might do something wrong?”
“Maybe.”
Viv looked at her, her gaze softening. “You don’t have to do it perfectly, okay? You just have to be there—that’s enough.”
Beth let out a soft sigh. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”
“I know. Even if you’re quiet. You look like you’re fighting ten thoughts at once, but you’re here. That’s what matters.”
Beth gave a weak smile. Her fingers idly played with the zipper of her cardigan. The truth weighed heavily on her tongue, yet she still couldn’t speak.
“I just… I want you not to have to do this alone.”
Viv reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. “I don’t have to. Ever. I have you.”
Just as that unpleasant warm feeling coursed through Beth’s chest again, the midwife entered. “Okay, everything’s ready. Shall we take a look?”
Together, they walked to the back room, where Viv eased herself onto the examination table, her back arching slightly in the awkward position.
Beth stepped closer, her hand resting on Viv’s shoulder, her fingers just brushing the skin beneath the sleeve of her shirt. She looked at the screen, then back at Viv’s face.
Say it. Say it now. Say that you don’t know what to do. No, this isn’t the moment. Or is it? God, she’s going to hate me. Or maybe not.
But she didn’t say it.
The midwife slid the monitor a little closer, rolled her stool beside the bed, and pulled on her gloves. She spoke in her calm, nurturing voice as she applied the gel and tucked a towel under Viv’s shirt.
“Cold. Sorry in advance.”
Viv gave a faint grin. “I’m used to it by now. After week twenty, all the ultrasounds lost their charm.”
Beth stood at Viv’s right side, holding her hand firmly but not tightly. Her thumb moved rhythmically over the back of Viv’s hand. Her eyes were fixed on the screen, as if afraid to miss anything.
“Look, there he is. Your son.”
The screen filled with blurry shapes, black-and-white contours difficult to decipher. But there, in a flash, a clear heartbeat appeared—a small rounding of a back, a tiny knee tucked up.
“Here you can see the head… and this is the heart. Look, it’s beating steadily, like a little drum.”
Viv watched, fascinated, her head tilted slightly to the side. “He’s grown.”
“Yes, good eye, Viv. But he’s just a bit below the average curve. Nothing to worry about, but we’ll keep an eye on it.”
Beth frowned. “What does that mean exactly?”
“He’s around the 9th percentile. That means roughly 9 out of 100 babies would be smaller than him at this stage. It’s a little below average, but he’s moving well, and the blood flow in the placenta looks healthy.”
Beth nodded, her eyes still fixed on the screen. Her breathing was slow, almost absent. Viv squeezed her hand gently, drawing her gaze from the screen to Beth’s face.
“Hey, you’re still here, right?”
Beth blinked and gave a small smile.
“Yes. Just… a lot to take in.”
The midwife pressed a little harder on Viv’s belly with the probe, making her eyebrows knit together.
“Ouch, that was my rib.”
“Sorry, I just want to measure his length properly. This is the last time we’ll be able to see him this clearly.”
The midwife adjusted the screen slightly so that both Beth and Viv could see better.
“He’s lying head-down, which is good. His back is on the left side, and his arms and legs are on the right. You’re probably feeling a lot of kicking on one side, right?”
“Yes, under my right rib.”
The midwife chuckled softly. “He’s very active. That’s a good sign.”
Viv sank slightly into the pillow on the exam table. The tension in her body was palpable. Her shoulders were raised, her lower back arched, and her face contorted in discomfort.
“You look a bit uncomfortable and tense, Viv. Back pain?”
She sighed softly. “Like someone laid a plank across my spine.”
“Hold on a moment.”
The midwife pushed the gel aside and instead grabbed a warm compress from under a cloth.
“Lie on your side for me, and I’ll try to ease some of the tension in your body.”
Gently, she rolled the warm compress over Viv’s back and kneaded the muscles with her fingers.
Viv groaned in relief. “Oh god, do you want to move in with us?”
Beth chuckled softly. “She pays well. In gratitude.”
The midwife chuckled gratefully. “And now, the legs.”
She pressed gently on Viv’s thighs, massaging slowly, using her thumbs on pressure points.
Viv’s hand slid slightly downward, reaching again for Beth’s hand. Beth leaned forward a little and pressed a kiss to her forehead, but said nothing.
Viv leaned against her. For a brief moment, everything seemed light again, like it once had.
But Beth’s gaze drifted back to the screen. To the small, moving child who would soon enter their lives. She tried to keep her face neutral, but her jaw was tight.
“Everything looks good otherwise, ladies. He may be small, but very strong. I expect he’ll make his appearance quickly, especially with those belly cramps. No latecomer, in any case.”
Viv rested her hand calmly on her belly, slowly stroking the curve.
“I can almost feel him in my arms already.”
Beth looked at Viv’s hand, then at her face.
“You’re going to do amazing. Really.”
Viv wanted to return a smile, but Beth had already looked away, lost in thought again.
Back in the consultation room, silence settled once more. The gel had been wiped away, Viv’s shirt pulled back over her belly, and both of them sat in chairs, their hands intertwined.
The midwife opened a new form and turned her chair toward them.
“Okay, let’s go over the birth plan now.”
Viv nodded, a mix of anticipation and fatigue in her expression. Beth pulled her chair slightly closer, so they were more aligned, yet still at a subtle distance.
“Because your baby is slightly below the growth curve, I would still advise you to give birth in the hospital.”
Viv’s eyes narrowed immediately. Her body recoiled almost imperceptibly.
“I wanted a home birth. That was the plan.”
The midwife looked at Viv with understanding. “I know. And I understand that. But we don’t take risks with a baby who’s slightly smaller than average. In the hospital, we can monitor his heartbeat more closely. And if he needs help to start breathing, there’s immediate support.”
Viv stared at her knees and spoke softly. “That feels like a step backward.”
“Sometimes a step back is a leap forward, Viv. This isn’t about failing. It’s about making sure your little man comes into the world safely.”
Beth looked from Viv to the midwife, then back again. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but closed it quickly.
“I wanted candles. My own bed. No white coats. No name tags…”
Beth slid her chair slightly closer. She took Viv’s hand again, her thumb gliding over her fingers.
“I know, love. But we’d rather bring him home with us than have to leave him there.”
Viv looked to the side. Their eyes met. For a brief moment, the tension between them melted—a short, loving moment of togetherness.
“I hate it when you’re right,”
Beth gave a faint smile. “I know. That’s why I don’t say it often.”
The midwife smiled discreetly. She immediately moved her stool closer and pointed to the birth plan open on the screen.
“Let’s talk about how to make you as comfortable as possible in the hospital. First: rest. Sleep as much as you can these last few weeks. You’ll need that energy soon.”
Viv nodded slowly.
“And during labor, there are, of course, different options: a warm bath, a birthing ball, breathing techniques. And if you want, pain relief too—epidural, morphine pump, nitrous oxide. We decide that on the spot, together.”
“I want to try without medication.”
Beth immediately placed her hand on Viv’s leg. “Or… without much medication, you mean.”
“Small amounts are allowed.”
The midwife laughed as she took notes. “And then, of course, there’s your role, Beth.”
Beth looked up. Her back straightened slightly. She seemed… uneasy.
“You are her support, her anchor. And that can mean a lot: holding her hand, guiding her breathing, making sure she drinks enough. Or making sure there’s calm around her. You know her best.”
Beth nodded slowly, but her face remained closed. She rubbed her knee for a moment, as if trying to find the right words.
“It’s okay if you don’t know everything, Beth. Labor is new for everyone, even for the partner. Just being there is already more than enough.”
A soft hum escaped her throat. “I know.”
Viv briefly held her hand and placed it over her chest. “There’s no perfect version of you that I need. I just want you, even if you don’t say anything.”
Beth smiled faintly. Their foreheads touched for a moment, a fleeting bow toward each other—quiet but intense.
“You two are doing beautifully together,” a warm voice came from behind the desk.
The midwife clicked the folder on her screen closed, set her pen on the table, and leaned back slightly. The ultrasounds, measurements, and birth plan had been fully reviewed.
“Are there any questions you want to ask? Anything bothering you, or still unclear?”
Viv opened her mouth to say that everything was clear, her standard response. But Beth beat her to it.
“How likely is… preterm birth?”
The words fell softly, almost as if they weren’t really meant to be heard.
Viv immediately turned her head toward her. “Huh? Why do you ask that?”
Beth didn’t look at her. Her gaze was fixed on a vague spot on the floor, just beyond the midwife’s legs.
“Just… because you get a lot of belly cramps. And because he’s small. That could be a risk, right?”
The midwife nodded slowly, professionally calm.
“That’s a fair question. And yes, belly cramps can sometimes be a sign of a body preparing itself. But in Viv’s case, we don’t see any signals that labor is actually starting.”
Viv turned her head again, her eyes sharp on Beth. “But why are you asking this all of a sudden?”
Beth flinched at the sharp tone but kept her face neutral. “Because I want to know what we’re dealing with.”
“There’s always a chance of preterm birth, for anyone. But based on what I see now, I’d say Viv will most likely deliver around her due date. Maybe a little earlier, but everything’s within the normal range.”
Beth nodded, very subtly. But Viv saw it—the tiniest softening of her shoulders, the exhale as if she’d been holding something inside, finally letting it go.
“Okay. Good to know.”
Viv’s gaze stayed on her. Something felt off. She had thought—no, felt—that Beth had hoped the baby would come early. That it would all be over faster. That the uncertain stretch would be shortened. But now…
“You’re relieved.”
Beth met her eyes with a warm look, but there was caution there. She didn’t say anything.
“I thought you’d be anxious. That you wanted it to just… be over quickly.”
Beth paused for a moment, then had to answer. “Maybe you thought that because I’m quiet. But that doesn’t mean I want it rushed.”
Viv nodded, but it felt like something was scraping just beneath the surface. Something she couldn’t quite grasp. Her fingers traced slowly over her belly, as if asking the baby a question.
“The most important tip is to keep listening to your body. Rest, don’t push yourself. And if you're in doubt, always call. Do you both want to sign these?”
Viv picked up the pen and wrote her name. Beth followed, a little slower.
They both stood. Viv let her hand glide over Beth’s back for a moment. Not an examining hand checking if everything was okay—something soft, an anchor.
Beth responded by placing her hand over Viv’s. Their fingers intertwined, but the space between them stayed quiet. In the hallway, as they walked toward the exit, Viv shifted her gaze to the side.
“You surprised me with that question.”
Beth shrugged. “I just suddenly thought… what if it happens now?”
“And what did you think then?”
Beth met her gaze on Viv, and for the first time, spoke without hesitation. “That I’m not ready yet. But that I also don’t want to be without him.”
Viv stopped immediately. One hand slid to her belly, the other to Beth’s face. She rested her hand softly against her cheek.
“I want you to share that with me later. The panic, the waiting, the euphoria… everything.”
Beth’s eyes closed for a second. “I’m trying, Viv.”
Viv leaned toward her, their foreheads touching briefly but intimately. “Then we’ll get through it.”
The light had grown a bit grayer as they drove back. Not rain, but that dull light that softens everything slightly—the dashboard, the buildings, their faces.
In the car, the radio played softly, a playlist of mellow pop. Neither of them sang along—not this time.
Viv sat with one hand under her belly, the other resting on her thigh. She stared out the window, face turned toward the passing world, but her eyes seemed to see nothing. Beth sat quietly behind the wheel, her knuckles gripping the leather just a little too tightly.
“You okay?” Beth asked gently.
Viv nodded slowly, not turning her head. “Yeah.”
“Really?”
Viv shrugged. The seconds of silence that followed said more than words ever could.
“Viv…”
“I told you, I’m fine.”
Beth bit her lip and blinked a few times more than usual. She tried again.
“I know when you’re lying.”
Viv finally turned toward her. Her gaze was flat, but her eyes betrayed the tremor underneath.
“Good. Then there are already two people in this car who can do that.”
Beth swallowed, eyes squeezing shut for a brief second. “What do you mean by that?”
“That I’m wondering why you looked so relieved. Just now. When she said the baby probably isn’t coming early.”
“Well… because that’s good news? Because it means they’ll be stronger? Fewer risks?”
Viv shifted her upper body slightly toward her, her hand still resting under her belly.
“You just saw him on the screen, Beth. His little head, his fingers, his heartbeat. And there’s… nothing. No tear, no smile. But the moment the midwife says he’ll probably stay in for another six weeks, your eyes light up?”
Beth exhaled softly. Her gaze stayed fixed on the road, her hands loosening slightly on the wheel.
“Maybe… maybe I’m just not good at those moments. The scans. The plans. I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel, Viv.”
Viv narrowed her eyes, lowering her voice to a whisper. “But you do feel something about him staying in longer.”
Beth said nothing. The windshield wipers squeaked briefly, a dry scrape across the glass even though it wasn’t raining. Tension hung heavy in the air, like humidity.
“Do you want me to stay pregnant a little longer? Or do you want me not to give birth yet?” Viv’s voice was painfully earnest.
Beth’s breath caught. She stayed looking forward, as if she physically couldn’t face the question.
“I just want… for us to have time. That you’re safe. That she’s safe.”
“No! You want time. For something. What?”
Beth shook her head, pressing her lips together. “I’m just… glad he’s staying in a little longer. That’s all.”
Viv turned toward the window. She said nothing—not because she had no words, but because any word she spoke would hang, heavy, in the closed space of the car.
“Okay.”
But it wasn’t agreement. It was the end of a conversation, not the end of a feeling.