Melissa "Destruction."

5 years ago...

The morning sun streamed through the sheer curtains in my bedroom, casting a soft glow that felt disproportionate to my inner turmoil. I sat on the edge of the bed, pressing a hand to my stomach, familiar waves of nausea washing over me. This was the third morning sickness episode this week, and each time, my thoughts returned to one inevitable idea: could I be pregnant?

I tried to think logically, but fear gnawed at me, nibbling at the edges of my mind. The missed days were worrying; it had been over a week since I last had my period. Normally, my cycles were like clockwork, but this delay felt like a cruel joke my body was playing on me. Uncertainty gripped my stomach like a coiled snake, tightening with every passing minute.

I tried to distract myself, focusing on work. I grabbed my phone, hoping to drown out my anxiety with emails and deadlines. But as I scrolled through the feed, the same thoughts resurfaced - Roman's face, memories of our recent intimate moments, and the looming question: what if I was pregnant?

The thought was both exciting and terrifying. A baby could bring us closer, mending the cracks in our relationship. Or it could drive us further apart, intensifying the hidden tensions that had arisen over the past few days. I remembered our last argument, the sharp words we exchanged, and how Roman had withdrawn, leaving me to navigate the turbulent waters of my emotions alone. This week had been especially quiet. He was barely home, preferring to drown himself in work.

I bit my lip, torn between hope and despair. The prospect of motherhood was alluring, but the reality of my relationship with Roman cast a shadow over it. Would he support me? Would he agree to become a father? I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders as I glanced toward the bathroom, which I would soon need.

Though a week had passed since I noticed the delay, I hadn't taken a test because, with each passing day, I felt Roman drifting further away from me. His phone calls were brief, his messages even shorter. I could sense his discomfort in our conversations; he changed the subject at the slightest hint of vulnerability. I couldn't shake the thought - had he sensed my anxiety, or had he simply realized he no longer had feelings for me and decided to ignore me?

Last night, lying in bed staring at the ceiling, I replayed the moments we had spent together this week. Or rather, the fact that we hadn't spent any time together at all.

Roman came home late every night, often smelling faintly of whiskey and stress. Each time, I tried to reach out to him, to connect, but he remained distant, as though an invisible wall had grown between us.

"Are you okay?" I asked one night, my voice laced with concern. Roman simply nodded, offering a half-hearted smile before retreating to the shower once again. The lack of communication hurt; he had become a stranger in our own home, and that loneliness only deepened my isolation.

The thought of telling him about a possible pregnancy filled me with anxiety. What if he reacted badly? What if he didn't want to be a father? Thousands of scenarios played out in my mind, each more destructive than the last.

Taking a deep breath, I got up from the bed. I needed answers, and the only way to get them was to face my fears. When I entered the bathroom, the air was filled with the scent of lavender, remnants of the soap Natasha had used earlier for cleaning. And the nausea intensified. Natasha was already there, casually leaning against the counter with a knowing look in her eyes. I had asked her for a favor half an hour ago.

"Hey, are you ready to take the test?" Natasha asked, handing me a small white box as if it were a grenade.

"I don't know, Natasha." I sighed, feeling a wave of hesitation wash over me. "What if it's positive? What if it's negative? I just... I can't handle this right now."

Natasha stepped closer, her expression turning serious. "Melissa, you need to know. Ignoring it won't make it any less real. Plus, I'm here for you, no matter the outcome. Just think how much better you'll feel once you have an answer."

I bit my lip, considering her words. "You're right. It's just... I'm scared. What if Roman... what if he doesn't want this? Our relationship is getting worse."

Natasha rolled her eyes with a sad smile. "Then we'll deal with it. You're not alone in this. You never were."

With a reluctant nod, I took the test from Natasha's hands, adrenaline pumping through my heart. "Alright, I'll do it. But you have to wait outside."

"Deal. I'll be in the room." Natasha said, closing the door behind her.

I was left alone in the bathroom, the silence pressing down on me even harder than the conversation with Natasha. I stared at the test in my hands, feeling like I couldn't catch my breath. The weight of the moment bore down on my shoulders. With trembling hands, I followed the instructions, each step feeling monumental. Placing the test on the counter, I couldn't shake the feeling that my life was about to change irreversibly, for better or worse.

I took a deep breath, trying to forget the nausea and calm my anxious thoughts. Childhood dreams of motherhood flashed in my mind-holding a baby, the scent of fresh baby powder, and laughter filling my home. But those dreams felt so distant now, overshadowed by the uncertainty and complications of my relationship with Roman.

And the world I was in. The woman I had become. Roman had truly made me feel like an invincible queen. But did that matter now?

As the minutes dragged on, each tick of the clock felt like a countdown to my fate. I paced the large bathroom, glancing at the test, then back at the door, wishing Natasha were there with me. What would she say if the result was positive? Would she be ready to embrace this reality? And if needed, would she keep it from Roman?

Finally, the timer I had set on my phone rang, breaking the tense silence. I closed my eyes for a second, then quickly opened them as I walked toward the counter, each step heavy with anxiety.

I glanced at the test, my breath catching in my throat. The small white stick lay on the vanity, two pink lines staring back at me like flashing neon lights. Life paused for a moment, a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming fear flooding my senses. Positive. The weight of reality hit me even harder. I had suspected it for days; the symptoms were too obvious, but seeing the confirmation was an entirely different story. Thousands of thoughts raced through my mind-how could this have happened? I had been careful, so why now?

My relationship with Roman had always been complicated; it had become something real, but I hadn't seen that in the last few days. What would he say? Would he be angry? Would he even care? The prospect of bringing a child into our turbulent world terrified me. Would I be ready for the responsibility? Questions swirled in my mind, leaving me breathless and confused. I looked at myself in the mirror, and my reflection showed more than just shock-it showed a woman standing on the edge, ready to leap into the unknown.

As I stood frozen in place, the bathroom door swung open, and Natasha re-entered, her face full of concern and curiosity. "Melissa, are you okay? You've been in here too long."

"I... I need a doctor," I whispered, the urgency in my voice startling even me.

Natasha's eyes widened. "What?"

"I took the pregnancy test," I admitted, my voice trembling. "It's positive."

"Positive? Oh my God!" Natasha rushed to me, grabbing my shoulders. "What are you going to do? Are you going to tell Roman?"

"I can't. I don't know how he'll react." I replied, biting my lip, my eyes filling with tears. Damn. I thought I'd never cry again.

"You have to tell him," Natasha insisted firmly. "You can't keep this a secret. Not from him."

"I know, but what if he loses it? What if he doesn't want this?"

"Then you figure it out together," Natasha said, trying to calm me down. "You can't make this decision alone."

A wave of frustration washed over me. "Why does everything have to be so complicated? We're barely holding our relationship together!"

"Maybe this could change things for the better," she suggested, her tone hopeful. "This is a big deal, Melissa. You need to talk to him."

"I don't even know if I want to keep it," I admitted, my voice barely audible. "I'm scared."

"Fear is normal," Natasha said, hugging me tightly. "But right now, you need to see a doctor. Find out your options."

With a nod, I took a deep breath, feeling the weight on my chest. "Alright, I'll go to the doctor. I wanted to do that anyway. But I still don't know what to say to Roman."

***

Sitting in the sterile office, my anxiety hung in the air like a thick fog. The doctor entered with a warm smile, but all I could feel was deep fear in my stomach. After a brief examination, she began asking a series of routine questions. "How long have you thought you might be pregnant?"

"I'm not sure," my answer was short. "I just found out today."

"Let's take a look, okay?" She gestured toward the ultrasound machine. I lay down on the table, trying to think of anything but what was about to happen. When the gel was applied to my belly, I closed my eyes, mentally bracing for what was to come.

A moment later, the doctor turned to me with a look of surprise. "Well, I have some surprising news for you. You're expecting triplets."

My eyes widened, and I'm sure my face displayed sheer horror. "Triplets? Are you serious?"

"Yes, it looks that way," she said, pointing to the screen where three tiny figures flickered. "You're about twelve weeks along."

My mind spun, trying to process the information. Triplets. Three babies. The reality was overwhelming. "How is this even possible?" I whispered. "And my period is only a week late."

"Sometimes it just happens, especially if there's a family history of multiple births, and in some women, menstruation can stop later than when the pregnancy begins," the doctor explained. "Now, we'll need to monitor you closely throughout the pregnancy. This will be high-risk, so regular check-ups will be critical."

I tried to grasp her words, but it felt like my mind was going numb. "High-risk? What does that mean?"

"It means we need to be careful. Complications can arise, and we'll be closely monitoring both you and the babies," she answered gently.

I nodded, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside me. "What are my options?"

"Given the circumstances, it's important to think about what's best for you and your health. We can go over everything in detail, but first, let's schedule your next appointment." The doctor continued, explaining the next steps.

As she laid out the plan, all I could think about was Roman. I knew the thought of abortion already seemed awful, but to end the lives of three at once? I couldn't do that. But the thought of telling him felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to jump but terrified of the fall.

***

I opened the bedroom door, expecting to be greeted by loneliness and silence, as I had grown used to lately. Instead, I found Roman sprawled on the couch, a half-empty bottle of whiskey beside him. The air in the room was thick with tension, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath.

"Well, look who it is," I said, letting sarcasm slip into my voice. "Didn't think I'd see you here."

Roman's eyes flicked toward me, a mix of surprise and irritation in them. "Where were you?" he asked, his tone insistent.

I hesitated, thinking over my answer. Should I tell him the truth? That I had been wandering the streets, reflecting on my life, my choices, and the little being growing inside me? Or rather, the three little beings. No, it was too personal, too raw. And too much for a drunken husband.

"Just... outside," I finally answered, hoping to deflect the question.

"Where exactly?" His tone was pressing, almost demanding.

"Just needed some fresh air," I said, shrugging like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Silence stretched between us again, heavy and uncomfortable. I could feel his irritation radiating off him like heat from a fire, but I also felt my own frustration building as I prepared to go to bed. He had no right to question me, not when he had withdrawn, not when he had disappeared into his own world without any explanation.

Deep down, I knew I had to tell him the truth-that I couldn't decide what to do about our relationship, the pregnancy, all of it. But the words remained trapped in my throat, tangled in my fears and doubts. Someday, I promised myself. Someday I'll find the courage to speak.

Roman narrowed his eyes as he looked at me, a flicker of concern crossing his face. "You're acting weird, Melissa. Is something wrong?"

"Really?" I snapped, my voice rising. "You're the one who can talk about weird behavior. You've been gone for weeks! And now you just sit here like a drunken pig and act like a jerk." I flopped onto the bed, pulling the blanket over myself too forcefully.

"I'm working," he said, pouring himself more whiskey. "I'll drink when I want. It's none of your damn business."

"Yeah, you're right, because ignoring your wife is the best way to support me," I barked, the bitterness in my words thickening the tension even more.

Roman ran his hand through his hair, his face twisted in frustration. "I didn't think that-"

"You didn't think, or you didn't care?" I cut him off, my anger boiling over. "It's easy to blame work, Roman. But you know what? I was here. Alone. And it's not just about me. It's us. Our marriage is a hollow shell."

His silence was deafening, a testament to the chasm that had opened between us. "You talk like you actually care about our marriage," he finally muttered, too drunk to respond properly.

"I don't anymore," I replied, feeling the walls around my heart harden even more. "You've cared too little to notice anything. Maybe it's time you start paying attention, or soon, I'll be the reason you have even more work to drown yourself in."

The air crackled with tension, filled with unsaid words and emotions neither of us wanted to acknowledge. I turned away from him, trying to figure out what could have happened to see only the cold facade of my husband again. I wanted to scream, to cry, to let out all the pain that had been building inside me for so long. But instead, I chose to retreat behind the mask I had so carefully crafted.

As the seconds stretched on, silence once again cloaked the room, heavy and suffocating. I felt trapped in a cycle of resentment and unsaid words, an endless loop that left me both angry and vulnerable. No, it seemed the time to tell him would not come soon.

***

Days turned into weeks, and each one felt heavier than the last. As I approached the 26th week of pregnancy, my stomach tied itself into knots-not from the physical changes I was experiencing, but from the emotional turmoil that had settled into my life. I had kept the news of my pregnancy a secret from Roman, and this silence became a suffocating shroud that enveloped me.

He was either absent, too drunk, or just coming home at dawn. If this continued, I would have to run away.

Our relationship, once filled with laughter and shared dreams, had now disintegrated into a series of unspoken grievances and misunderstandings. Roman's distant behavior only deepened the chasm between us. He often buried himself in his work, leaving me alone to deal with my growing belly and the reality of impending motherhood. The longer I waited to tell him, the more complicated the situation became. What once seemed like joyful news now felt like an approaching storm.

I gazed out the window, watching the leaves dance in the wind. The world outside kept turning, but inside me, chaos reigned. What would I say when I finally mustered the courage to face him? Would he be angry? Would he even care? God, I ask myself these same questions every damn day, slowly going mad.

I sighed, feeling the weight of my decision pressing down on me. Each day, the burden grew heavier, and my heart ached for connection, for honesty.

"Hey, are you okay?" Natasha's voice broke through my thoughts, bringing me back to the present. I turned to her, forcing a smile, though it felt more strained than genuine.

"I'm fine," I lied, but Natasha's knowing look told her otherwise.

"You don't look fine. You look... well, you look like a watermelon," Natasha said with a half-smirk, trying to lighten the mood.

I laughed quietly, unable to suppress the truth in her joke. "Probably true," I admitted, glancing at my reflection in the mirror. Lately, I had been avoiding mirrors, afraid of the changes I saw. But now, looking at myself, the truth was undeniable. The roundness of my belly was proof of the life growing inside me, yet I hid it under layers of clothing. "It's hard to believe I've managed to hide it for so long," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

Before Natasha could respond, Misha rushed into the room, his face filled with panic. "Melissa! I just got a call from Roman. He needs to leave urgently for a business trip. The Boston crew seems to be gearing up for a war."

Panic seized me instantly. The mention of Roman froze me in place, but Misha's urgency triggered a different kind of anxiety. "What? When?" I gasped, trying to process the information.

"Now. He's on his way to the airport," Misha replied, his brows furrowed with concern. "He asked me to let you know."

"I understand. You can go." He nodded and left, and I smirked, feeling like I could laugh in the face of my reality. He asked, but for some reason, didn't tell me himself.

Suddenly, I felt a sharp contraction, a wave of intense pain spreading through my belly like wildfire. "No, no..." I gasped, clutching my stomach. "Something's wrong."

"What's happening?" Natasha rushed to my side, grabbing my elbow.

Before I could gather my thoughts, another wave of pain hit me, more intense this time. "I need to sit down," I exhaled, but there was no time to sit-only the sudden realization that I was probably going into labor.

"Natasha, I think I'm in labor."

"What? But it's too early." Her grip tightened as I swayed, but then her gaze shifted downward. "Oh God, you're bleeding."

I felt the warm, unsettling sensation of blood running down my legs, and panic hit me harder. "We need to call an ambulance, quickly!"

"We can't!" I screamed, my voice cracking under the pressure. "Get Leah, she'll take me."

Natasha quickly reacted, her face pale but focused as she went for help. Better one more person knew than the whole crew-and worse, my husband.

***

What felt like a blur, I found myself in a car, then in the hospital's emergency room. Paramedics bustled around me, their voices blending into a single hum. I could barely understand what they were saying, my mind clouded with pain, my body trembling.

It was agony. Each contraction felt like a tidal wave crashing over me, leaving me gasping for air. I wanted to scream, to cry, to tell someone how scared I was. But the words escaped me, trapped in the grip of fear and pain. And there was no one beside me.

It seemed like they rushed me into the sterile, bright world of the operating room. Doctors and nurses moved with precision, their voices calm but firm, and their faces filled with concern. I was wheeled into surgery, the bright lights blinding me for a moment.

"Melissa, we need to perform an emergency C-section," Dr. Graves said. I couldn't tell where she was, but I heard the seriousness in her tone. "We need to act quickly to ensure your safety and the safety of the babies."

Tears of pain streamed down my face as reality blurred like raindrops on a window. Babies. My thoughts wandered back to the moment I learned about their existence. A whirlwind of emotions surrounded me-hope and terror intertwined.

The anesthesia began to take hold, pulling me into darkness that felt both suffocating and liberating.

***

I slowly opened my eyes, waking to a world that felt muted. I squinted against the bright light, my body feeling heavy and sluggish. A dull ache settled in my belly, reminding me of the surgery I had undergone.

As my eyes adjusted, I saw Dr. Graves standing beside my bed, her expression somber. "Melissa," she said softly. "How are you feeling?"

"Where are the babies?"

"They... I'm so sorry to tell you this, but... the babies didn't survive."

The words pierced through me, sharp and cold. I could barely breathe, my chest tightening with the weight of grief that felt overwhelming. "What?" I whispered, disbelief filling my mind. "No. It can't be... no."

But the truth was relentless, a brutal reality I couldn't escape. It felt like the ground had disappeared beneath me, leaving me in a void of sorrow. The dreams I had cherished-the visions of tiny fingers wrapping around mine, the sound of soft cries filling the air-were extinguished in an instant.

Tears streamed down my face, a flood of grief that I could no longer hold back, but I didn't even feel them.

***

As time passed, my thoughts wandered through a labyrinth of emotions. I thought about Roman-about our marriage, now tainted by silence and distance. What had once been love had turned into something unrecognizable, a partnership more rooted in convenience than connection. He wasn't there when I needed him most, and in his absence, I realized something profound: our marriage was no longer a union of hearts, but merely a contract born out of necessity.

I lay on the sterile hospital bed, the sounds of beeping machines reminding me that life continued around me while I felt forever changed. The truth weighed heavily on my heart: I could no longer hold on to the remnants of what was. It was time to face the reality of my life, the silence that had taken root between us.

In my solitude, I made a vow to myself. I would no longer let my life be defined by the shadows of unsaid words or the fear of confrontation. I would find my voice again, whether with Roman or within myself. The road ahead wouldn't be easy, but for the first time in weeks, I felt a spark of determination within me. I would rise, leave this hospital, and crush anyone who stood in my way. I would become a queen, and I wouldn't need a king to do it.