Too Late To Love Me I Already Left With His Twins (Lydia and Dave) novel Chapter 30

Lydia POV

I stared at my reflection again, and for the first time in my life, I looked like someone I did not know how to help.

I changed in under two minutes.

A loose boubou gown.

Slides.

Face cap.

No earrings.

No dignity.

I didn’t even tell Bernard where I was going.

I just rushed downstairs, booked a ride, and left before anyone could ask questions.

The mall close by was still open.

Thank God for capitalism.

I walked into the pharmacy section trying very hard not to look like a woman whose life was currently dissolving from the inside out.

I failed.

Miserably.

The girl at the counter looked about nineteen and far too calm for the emotional apocalypse I was carrying in my

chest.

“Hi,” I said.

She smiled. “Good evening, ma.”

“Pregnancy test.”

Her smile stayed exactly the same.

Professional queen.

She reached under the counter and placed two brands in front of me.

I bought both.

By the time I got home, my palms were sweating.1

Bernard saw me at the entrance and immediately frowned.

“Ma, hope all is well?”

I gave him a sound that was neither yes nor no.

Just a small, haunted “Hmm.”

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Then I practically flew upstairs.

side my bathroom, I locked the door like I was protecting state secrets.

Then I stared at the box.

Then at myself.

Then back at the box.

I read the instructions three times like it was an exam I had not studied for.

Then I did it.

Then I placed the strip on the counter.

Then I stepped back.

And closed my eyes.

My hands came together automatically.

Tight.

Desperate.

Childish.

“Please God,” I whispered. “Please let it be negative.”

My breathing got shallower.

The room felt too small.

The silence felt cruel.

I counted in my head.

One.

Two.

Three.

By the time I got to ninety, my chest felt like it was caving in.

I opened my eyes.

Looked down.

And the world ended quietly.

Positive.

For one second, I genuinely forgot how to stand.

Then my knees hit the bathroom floor so hard it hurt.

A sound tore out of me before I could stop it.

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I bent forward and pressed a hand to my mouth as tears blurred the result in front of me.

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The word came out broken.

I cried into my own palm because the alternative was screaming.

And if there was ever a moment to appreciate soundproof walls, it was then.

I was pregnant.

Pregnant.

For Dave.

For that emotionally unavailable, apology-allergic, infuriating man who did not love me, did not choose me, and had very likely only touched me because another woman walked away from him.

I laughed once through my tears.

A horrible, cracked sound.

Of course.

Of course this would happen to me.

Of course life would look at my already complicated existence and say:

You know what this needs? A baby. 1

I stayed on the floor for a long time.

Long enough for my legs to go numb.

Long enough for my tears to dry into that ugly tightness around the eyes.

Long enough to realize that whether I liked it or not, I had to tell him.

Because this wasn’t something I could hide.

And even if I could, I wouldn’t.

This was not some dirty little secret.

This was real.

Terrifyingly real.

I stood up slowly, washed my face, and stared at myself in the mirror again.

Then I left the bathroom and called Bernard.

He answered immediately.

“Yes, ma?”

“Can you…” I swallowed. “Can you please tell Dave to come home?”

A pause.

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