If she hadn’t gone, if she had been braver, stronger, less selfish, less needy… the list could go on.
Sitting in front of the Doctor she presented herself as empowered, a young woman capable of making life-changing decisions. You would have only heard the quiver in her voice if you knew her, or felt her body shaking if you held her. But in the room, alone, apart from the clinical stranger, there was no one to see the fear or hear her pain.
“Eight weeks,” she said with confidence. She knew the date exactly and knew she would always remember it. Inappropriately, flashes of him beneath her came into her mind’s eye.
His beautiful eyes staring into hers, she felt powerful, desired and wanted. The feeling was addictive, even though she knew it was a veil over the dark, illicit reality.
He was a husband but she wasn’t a wife and no amount of faux love could make the hollow feeling go away.