The Murphy estate looks different in Saturday morning light—less imposing, more like the home where I've spent countless hours pretending I belonged.
My stomach churns as I park beside Chloe's car, and I can't tell if it's morning sickness or the weight of the abortion appointment card that's been burning a hole in my purse for two days.
A simple procedure, the counselor had said. In and out. Problem solved before it becomes a problem. My fingers find the card again as I walk to the front door, its edges already soft from constant touching.
This is the right choice. The only choice that protects everyone—Tobias's campaign, Chloe's trust in me, my own pathetic excuse for a career. I repeat it like a mantra, trying to make myself believe it.
"Finally!" Chloe's voice carries from upstairs when I enter. "I'm almost ready! Make yourself comfortable, I just need to find my other earring!"
The kitchen smells like coffee and something baking—Sarah, the housekeeper, smiles warmly as I enter. "Morning, Ava. You look a little pale. Can I get you something?"
"Just water, please." I set my bag on the marble counter, pressing my hand to my stomach as another wave of nausea rolls through. "Something smells amazing."
"Banana bread for the campaign volunteers coming later. Mr. Murphy insists on feeding everyone who helps." She hands me a glass of water with a concerned look. "Are you sure you're feeling alright? There's a stomach bug going around."
"I'm fine, just haven't been sleeping well." I take careful sips, willing my stomach to cooperate. "Is anyone else home?"
"Just Mr. Murphy in his study. Tyler's been staying at his friend's place since.. Well, you know.." Before I can respond, she glances at the oven timer. "Excuse me, I need to check the bread."
I suddenly realize I need the powder room. Like, right now, urgently. Morning sickness has perfect timing. I barely make it there before my stomach rebels.
When I finally emerge, shaky but steadier, I hear voices in the kitchen—Tobias's deep tone mixing with Sarah's lighter one.
"—seen my reading glasses? I swear I left them here last night."
"Check the counter by the coffee maker," Sarah suggests. "You were reviewing those campaign finance documents there."
I round the corner just as my bag, perched precariously on the counter's edge, tips over.
Everything spills across the marble—lipstick rolling toward the edge, wallet splaying open, tampons scattering, and the appointment card sliding across the surface like an accusation.
"I'll get it," I say quickly, but Tobias is already there, automatically gathering the scattered items with the same efficiency he brings to everything.
"No problem, I knocked it over reaching for…" His voice cuts off abruptly.
I watch the color drain from his face as he stares at the card in his hand. The clinic's name is printed clearly across the top. The word "termination" visible in the appointment details. His jaw clenches, unclenches, clenches again.
Sarah has vanished, somehow she always knows when to disappear, leaving us alone in the suddenly airless kitchen.
"Is this what I think it is?" His voice comes out rough, barely controlled. He hasn't looked up from the card. "Are you pregnant?"
I can't speak. My throat has closed completely. I manage a nod.
"Is it mine?" The question is soft, almost vulnerable.
Another nod.
His hands shake as he sets the card on the counter with deliberate care. When he finally looks at me, his warm hazel eyes have gone storm-dark with something that looks devastatingly like betrayal.
"And you were going to erase our child without even telling me?"
The words hit like physical blows. "Tobias, I…"
"Monday morning." He's reading the card again. "You made an appointment to terminate our child on Monday morning, and you weren't going to tell me. You were just going to make it disappear."
"I was trying to protect you!" The words explode out of me. "Your campaign, your career, everything you've worked for…"
"You think I care more about the campaign than—" He stops, running his hand through his hair in a gesture I recognize as barely controlled emotion. "Jesus Christ, Ava. What kind of man do you think I am?"
"I think you're a man who's worked his entire life to get here. Who has the chance to actually change things, to make a difference. I think you're a man who doesn't deserve to have his life destroyed because of one night of weakness."
"Weakness?" His voice rises for the first time. "Is that what you think that night was? A moment of weakness?"
"What else could it be? You were comforting me, and I threw myself at you, and things got out of hand…"
"Stop." He moves closer, and I can see the hurt radiating from him. "Just stop. You think so little of me that you believe I'd want you to go through this alone? That I'd want you to terminate our child to save my career?"
"Your career matters! The things you could do as governor…"
"Nothing I could do as governor matters more than this." His hand moves toward my stomach, then stops, hovering uncertainly. "You're carrying our child, and you were going to erase it without even giving me a choice. Without even telling me it existed."
"It's my body."
"Yes, it is. And that appointment card tells me what you've chosen. But did you think I had no right to know? No right to at least have a conversation about it?"
I'm crying now, hot tears streaming down my face.
"What conversation could we have? Hey Tobias, I'm pregnant with your baby, which will destroy your campaign, ruin your relationship with your children, and give Veronica ammunition to destroy us both. But sure, let's chat about it."
"Yes!" He grips my shoulders gently but firmly. "That's exactly the conversation we should have. Because I'm not some scared college boy who'd let you face this alone. I'm not going to run from this or from you."
"But Veronica…"
"I'll handle Veronica. I've been handling her for twenty years."
"Tyler—"
"Tyler is my son, and if he can't accept this, that's his choice to make."
"The campaign—"
"Fuck the campaign." The profanity shocks me into silence. "You think I'd choose the governor's mansion over my child?"
"It's not a child yet. It's just cells—"
"It's ours." His voice breaks slightly. "Whatever it is, whatever it becomes, it's ours.”
I break completely, sobbing into his shirt, my hands fisting in the fabric. "I'm scared," I admit against his chest. "I'm twenty-one years old, I have no money, no real career, and I'm pregnant by my best friend's father. I'm terrified."
"I know, baby. I know." His arms tighten around me. "But you're not alone. Whatever you need, whatever the baby needs, I'm here. We'll figure out the campaign, we'll figure out how to tell Chloe, we'll figure out everything."
"I'll ruin your life."
He pulls back to cup my face, thumbs wiping at my tears. "You could never ruin anything. This child is unexpected, yes. It complicates everything, absolutely. But unwanted?" He shakes his head firmly. "Not by me. Never by me."
The sound of footsteps on the stairs makes us spring apart. Chloe's voice carries down: "Ava? You ready? The stores are going to get crowded if we don't leave soon!"
Tobias grabs the appointment card, tearing it in half, then quarters. "Cancel it," he says quietly but firmly. "Give me a chance to show you we can do this. Together."