Page 59 of Ivory Obsession
The words rolled off my tongue like a well-rehearsed line, but there was an odd hollowness to them—a dissonance between what I said and what I felt.
“You’re sure?” Ellie pressed gently, her warm brown eyes studying me with an intensity only she could manage.
“Yeah, El. Absolutely.”
But as soon as I said it, it sounded like a lie.
Chapter Twenty-Four: Jade
My head was still pounding when I woke up.
A strange weight knotted in my stomach, an unwelcome guest making itself at home. Tiptoeing out of bed, the world felt a little off-kilter, like I was walking a tightrope above the chaos of my own life.
I checked my phone, and there it was — Dante’s message from last night, his words a digital caress against the mess in my head. “Goodnight, Jade. How’s your headache now?” I read it aloud, ignoring the pang in my heart. I let the phone fall back onto the nightstand, the soft thud grounding me for a moment.
The first rays of sunlight were sneaking through the curtains, casting long, slanted shadows across the room as I shuffled towards the bathroom. The tiles were cold underfoot, a stark reminder of reality biting at my heels.
My hands, usually so steady and precise, betrayed a slight tremor as I reached into the cabinet. The pregnancy test lay there, inconspicuous among bottles and boxes — a sleek white stick that could tilt my world on its axis. I wrapped my fingers around it; it was cool to the touch, like holding a piece of ice that wouldn’t melt.
Resolve steeled my spine as I followed the instructions printed on the box with clinical precision. Then came the wait, every tick of the clock stretching seconds into eternities. My breath hitched, chest tight with anticipation as I watched, willing the test to reveal its secrets.
Time froze, the air thick with the weight of unspoken possibilities until, finally, the result flashed before my eyes.
Positive.
That single word echoed in the cramped space, bouncing off the tiles and drilling into my skull. I blinked, once, twice, refusing to accept the truth staring back at me from the digital display. The ground beneath my feet felt like it was shifting, trying to throw me off balance. My mind raced with the implications, each one more daunting than the last.
The bathroom mirror caught my gaze, reflecting a woman who looked like a stranger. Dark hair fell haphazardly around a face pale with shock, eyes wide and disbelieving. This can’t be happening, not to me, not now. I’m Dr. Jade Bentley, for God’s sake, with a career that doesn’t have room for... this.
“Okay, think, Jade,” I murmured to myself, my voice sounding hollow against the tiled walls. The reflection didn’t respond, just continued to stare back with that same look of utter disbelief. But doubt gnawed at me, relentless as the headaches that had become my uninvited morning companions. What if the test is wrong? It happens, right?
With a surge of desperate hope, I tore open another package. Repeating the process felt like a twisted déjà vu, each step heavier with dread and silent prayers for a different outcome. I clutched the second test like a lifeline, heart pounding against my ribs so hard I could almost hear it echoing in the silence.
I watched, breath held tight in my chest, as the minutes crawled by until the result locked into place. There it was again, those bold lines forming a plus sign that seemed to brand itself into my consciousness.
Unmistakable.
Undeniable.
Positive.
A bitter laugh escaped me, void of any real humor. “Twice confirmed, then,” I said aloud to no one, the sound of my voice an attempt to anchor myself to reality. My life, meticulously planned and controlled, suddenly felt like a house of cards caught in a tempest, ready to collapse under the weight of a secret two pink lines thick.
I’d never called in sick before—not when I had the flu last winter, nor when I sprained my wrist a couple of years back. But today, my fingers trembled as I typed out a message to my supervisor. The lie tasted like ash on my tongue; I claimed a sudden fever, a sore throat, the usual suspects for a day spent curled under the covers instead of beneath the sterile hum of lab fluorescents.
“Sent,” I whispered, dropping the phone on the counter as if it burned. The room spun slightly, and I gripped the edge of the bathtub, willing myself to stay grounded. My head throbbed—a cruel reminder that no matter how much I wished this morning away, reality wasn’t going to change.
“Get up, Jade. Focus,” I muttered, forcing myself to stand. I needed answers, something concrete to hold onto. Dressing quickly, I chose jeans and a black tank top, clothes that wouldn’t draw attention or raise questions. Clothes that said ‘normal’ even though nothing about today was.
The walk to the clinic was mechanical, each step a bitter march toward an unknown future. I ignored the passersby, the shop windows, the vibrant life of New York City waking up around me. Their normality was a world away from the chaos churning inside me.
My phone buzzed, derailing my train of thought. It was Ellie.
You okay? the text read, simple and direct.
Ellie always knew when something was off.
Headache’s turned into maybe the flu, I lied again, thumb hovering over the send button before committing to the deception. I couldn’t face her worry, not now, not with my own fears still clawing their way through my mind.