Looking at their fingers laced together, I couldn't stop my eyes from burning.
I'd been pregnant once, too.
I was barely in my twenties when I held up the ultrasound for him, beaming, certain he would do something romantic, maybe even propose.
He took the ultrasound, glanced at it, and said with a face as cold as slate:
"Get rid of it."
"People like us, living on a knife's edge, aren't meant to have kids."
My whole body went rigid. I could barely get the words out. "But the doctor said my health isn't great. If I lose this one, I might not be able to conceive again..."
"Then we won't have kids. Ever."
In my memory, Kenneth's profile was sharp and indifferent, his eyes locked on the game on his screen.
Back then, he said the timing wasn't right. Said it wasn't suitable. Said he didn't like children.
The one thing he never said was that he felt sorry for me.
But now, with that delicate woman tucked against his chest, his eyes were brimming with tenderness he couldn't contain.
Maybe the contrast was too stark. The tears I'd been holding back finally slipped free.
Kenneth's brow creased, barely perceptible. "You're not some eighteen-year-old girl. What's with the waterworks?"
"I told you, once she has the baby, I'll marry you."
The girl beside him tugged at Kenneth's sleeve and leaned forward to peer at me.
"Don't cry, okay?"
"I'm not trying to steal Kenneth from you. I just liked his genes and wanted to keep the baby without the man."
"Our generation isn't exactly desperate to get married."
Every word rolled off her tongue, light and easy, like it cost her nothing. Kenneth stood there listening, thoroughly amused.
I was the only one who couldn't stomach a single word of it.
"Alright, enough with the theatrics."
"Go home and clear out the bedroom. She needs to stay at the house for her pregnancy."
Kenneth offered me a few impatient words of comfort, then took Eleanor's hand and got in the car.
Kenneth and I grew up together. Childhood sweethearts, inseparable from the start.
He had no parents. He survived by tagging along with debt collectors on the street corners, scrounging for meals. A miserable existence.
I lost my mother young. My father was a gambler, a drunk, and a man who liked to use his fists. My life wasn't much better.