Two weeks later
Over the days, her morning sicknesses had augmented in all forms.
From vomiting almost every passing hour to nonchalantly dropping on the couch and drifting into sleep at the slightest opportunity she got.
Orla concluded maybe it was finally time for her to come to grips with the fact that she really was pregnant—with Callan's child. Though difficult news to swallow down her throat, it was her reality now.
Stupefaction had been her acquaintance for days. Callan was in another part of the world, off on a business trip, and she was at home, alone.
Not sure what she wanted out of her life...
As much as she wanted to steer clear of him, she dangerously craved his presence now. Nothing made sense when he wasn't with her. Nothing did.
She brushed aside his calls and texts whenever they popped on her screen and still didn't deem it necessary to tell him that she had a life growing inside of her, a life they made together.
After that day she met with Sophia, she'd been receiving incessant texts from her, badgering her to let them meet up with their family.
Sophia was ready to face her family now, but Orla was too pissed to acknowledge her messages. She was still hurt that Sophia knew what happened but hid it to herself for such a long time.
What was the point of letting the cat out of the bag now? Things were already destroyed beyond repair. No one would believe them, there was no evidence to prove her points.
Such a sad and pitiful life. Orla shook her head, her life was different and miserable in a way.
She was seated on the divan, sorting out the papers she drew overnight. Work had been hectic over the week, but she loved every bit of it. Being lost in her world of designing kept her very busy and her mind very far away from Callan.
"The Power Prime project," she tossed a sheet on the centre table. "The Adhens Project...this structure doesn't look pleasant enough, needs to be redrawn and..." An unexpected knock at the door deferred her alone time.
She wasn't anticipating anyone. Callan was not to be back until the next week, and he wouldn't even knock at the door to his house.
"Who is there?" She sibilated.
When no response came for about two minutes, she abandoned the sheets and strolled over to the doorpost.
As she neared the door, she had an inkling that Sophia might be the one pulling the stunts on her but her instincts failed when she yanked the door open to see Callan in his full splendour and power, leaning against the door, his eyes shimmering in adoration.
He elegantly donned grey suits that exuded his manly preeminence.
Orla let out a very low sigh, her eyes travelling up and down his body for three seconds, but she quickly looked away before she got lost in him.
Why would he knock? Was he crazy?
Wiggling her head in disappointment, she dropped the handle of the door and went back to what she was doing.
"Hey, Orla." He revved up his strides to meet up with her. "How are you?"
"Fine," she shrugged, flopping back on the couch. "Why did you knock at the door?"
"David said you were home," placing her under scrutiny, he noticed her hair was loosely packed in a messy bun.
Subconsciously, she yawned. Callan's eyes rested on the centre table, he noticed her computer was lying poorly on one side and a stack of drawing sheets piled on the other side with a few scattered on the floor.
She lowered at him, bemused. "What if I was at home?"
"I want to talk to you, Orla. You wouldn't look me in the eyes to talk to me if I didn't knock." He said, his tone mild. He placed his blazer on a lone spot in the divan and slid next to Orla. "How have you been? You look terrible. Did you get any sleep?"
His questions and sweet voice warmed her heart. She didn't realize how much she missed him until now, but she didn't let that pull through. Her eyes ogled him over and over again before she looked away, pretending she hadn't missed him to death.
"I am perfectly fine as you can see," feigning a smile, she shrugged her shoulders. "And busy too, I have a lot to do here and I do not need distractions."
"I am not a distraction, Orla." Callan's face fell, obviously hurt by her words.
"Then you are?" Looking away, she picked up a pen and drew a circle on one of the many sheets on the table.
"Really?" Callan chuckled. "Orla, when will you let go?"
Her head snapped up. "Oh. Please callan, I do not want to have this conversation with you."
"And I want us to talk about this, Orla!" His voice rose to an unfriendly pitch. When Orla gave him a nasty glare, he sighed frustratedly, relaxing. He didn't plan to worsen matters, but she didn't want to yield... "Orla, I am sorry. What do you want me to do? Anything, tell me and I will get it done in no time. I miss you."
His eyes narrowed on hers, scanning her every movement. The air between them was bizarrely silent. Orla glimpsed fatigue in his eyes, they weren't bright like they used to be.
At that point, she wasn't sure what she wanted. She couldn't even tell him that she was pregnant because she was still very angry with him, considering divorce and just maybe she didn't need this baby.
Orla felt naked in front of Callan, she felt he could see through her soul. He stared at her like he knew something had changed about her like he knew she was hiding something from him, but she didn't let that bother her.
She didn't plan on telling him that she found out she was pregnant when he was away, and she was certain Sophia wouldn't tell him too.
She didn't even confirm what was wrong with her, Jackson just made some speculations before she ran out of the house that day.
She only knew she truly was pregnant when she entered the hospital the next day, and the Doctor ran a series of tests on her, confirming that she was one month pregnant.
The news had struck her hard. She didn't plan for it now, not when she had plans of leaving Callan soon.