### Chapter 60 “What are you doing here?” I choked out, my voice trembling amidst my tears. Rowan knelt before me, a mixture of concern and confusion clouding his gaze. “Emma told me she saw you at the store. She said you looked hysterical and that you bought a bunch of pregnancy tests before leaving.” His fingers brushed lightly against my cheeks, attempting to wipe away the streams of sorrow. Damn Emma and her loose lips! What did she think she would achieve by telling Rowan about my desperate purchase? “She had no right to tell you. It's not her business, nor is it yours,” I spat, indignation flaring like an uncontrolled flame. Rowan remained unfazed, his expression turning serious. “Have you taken the test?” I merely nodded, the floodgates of fresh tears threatening to spill over. “And?” he pressed, his voice a soft yet persistent nudge. Silence hung heavy in the air as I struggled to voice the reality I feared. When my silence lingered, Rowan’s gaze drifted around the room, finally landing on the discarded tests sprawled near the sink. He rose, stepping toward the evidence of my inner turmoil. Rage should have surged through me at his invasion of my privacy, yet I found myself uncaring, consumed by the weight of my anxiety. Returning to my side, he opted for sitting next to me rather than kneeling. “Congratulations. You’re going to be a great mother,” he said, an unexpected tremor threading through his voice. I rested my head against his shoulder, grappling with my swirling thoughts. “Am I? You never wanted to have another baby with me, even though I yearned for one. I always thought it was because you believed I would be a terrible mother.” Insecurity, my long-time companion, reared its head once again. The truth was painfully evident; he hesitated to embrace another child, still clinging to the frayed hope that Emma might return. It was easier to deceive myself, to believe I wasn’t enough than to confront the reality that he simply didn’t want to create a life with me. “I’ve never thought you were a bad mother, Ava. You’re incredible. Just look at the bond you share with Noah,” he countered, pausing for effect. “Can I tell you something?” I nodded, curiosity piqued. “I was always jealous of your relationship with him. I still am,” he confessed, the sincerity in his voice making me lift my head in disbelief. “Really?” It was hard to reconcile this moment with the Rowan I had known. The one who would have turned his back without a second thought, uncaring of the chaos swirling around me. “Yeah,” he affirmed, and silence enveloped us like a comforting blanket. As I sat there, exhaustion crept over me, and I couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment I drifted off. When slumber claimed me, the last sensation I felt was his gentle lips brushing my forehead. I awoke the next afternoon, revitalized yet drained. Breakfast lay untouched on my side table—probably cold, a testament to the turmoil of the previous day. Dragging myself from the cocoon of warmth, I schedule an appointment with my gynecologist, each step feeling heavier than the last. I took a quick shower and dressed, the effort feeling monumental. Hunger eluded me as I eyed the food but pushed it aside, attributing it to Rowan's concern. Climbing into my car, I turned the ignition with a heavy heart, deliberately moving at a crawl as if trying to stall the inevitable visit to the doctor. After what felt like an eternity, I arrived at the clinic. The sight of couples waiting with anticipation struck a chord deep within me, echoing memories of my pregnancy with Noah. Rowan had never once accompanied me to these appointments; I often marveled at how he insisted on being present during my labor despite his evident indifference towards my well-being and that of the child. Shaking off those thoughts, I provided my details to the receptionist before sinking into a chair, anxiety curling in my stomach as I waited. “Ava Sharp.” My name abruptly cut through the air forty-five minutes later. I stood and made my way into Dr. Raven’s office, her warm greeting a stark contrast to the chill inside me. “Good to see you, Ava. What brings you here today?” she asked, settling into her chair. “I need an ultrasound. I took some pregnancy tests yesterday, and they came back positive. I just need confirmation,” I replied, clenching my hands to quell the rising tide of jitters. “That’s certainly doable. Just hop onto the bed while I set things up.” Her kindness was reassuring, and I nodded, taking my place on the examination table, my heart racing uncontrollably. “Please lift your top,” she instructed gently. I complied, my hands trembling as the cold gel met my skin. She maneuvered the wand carefully, and with each passing second, my anxiety peaked. “You’re definitely pregnant—around three months along,” she smiled, just as the unmistakable rhythm of a heartbeat played through the room. As tears threatened to spill over, I gripped the edge of my shirt, her pleasure striking me with a jarring contrast. The remainder of the appointment blurred into an incoherent rush of instructions about diets and vitamins. I walked out of the office with the dull throb of agony in my chest, cradling the physical proof of my condition: the images of my unborn child clutched tightly in my hand. Numbness enveloped me as I drove, reality settling into a cruel acceptance. I had fostered a glimmer of hope—a lingering wish that the tests might be wrong, that the universe would bend to my will even for a moment. Yet here I was, en route to an uncertain future with tangible evidence of a life I never intended to create nestled in the backseat. I parked my car in an unremarkable spot, my feet moving towards the cliff as if compelled by an unseen force. How could I find joy in this child? The circumstances of their conception were steeped in betrayal and lies—an innocent life intertwined with the chaos wrought by the man who had once tried to shatter my world. One step forward would mean freedom from the turmoil. It would steal away the pain, sadness, and heartbreak like shadows evaporating in the sunlight. I would be liberated from the relentless darkness that consumed me. As I stood there, poised on the precipice of oblivion, a distant cat cried out. I ignored it, captivated by the tempest in my mind. Just then, the heavy thud of a door slamming jolted me from my thoughts. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Ava?” Rowan’s voice cut through the air, laced with an alarm that sent shivers down my spine. I refused to turn around, the wind picking up as if urging me onward—forward into the void where I longed to escape. “Ava, please. Step away from the cliff. Come to me.” I felt his presence drawing near, yet I remained rooted to the spot. I was weary—exhausted from the tears, the hurt, the unending battle within. “I don’t think I can do this, Rowan. I don’t want to keep fighting... I want the pain to stop. I want to know what peace feels like. I haven’t known it my whole life,” I cried, the words spilling out like an overfilled cup. “Killing yourself isn’t the answer,” he asserted, reaching out to pull me back to safety. I had been so lost in my own despair that I hadn’t realized how close he had come. “Let go of me! Let me go! I can't take it anymore!” I screamed, struggling against the grip he had on me, desperate for release. “Snap out of it, Ava!” he thundered, his voice a mix of anger and desperation. “Think about Noah! Are you going to leave him motherless? A young boy grieving the loss of his beloved mom? And your unborn child—are you truly so selfish that you’d take an innocent life? Your own flesh and blood!” he shook me, his face fierce, eyes blazing with intensity. The moment he mentioned Noah, my resistance faltered. “Rowan…” “No! I don’t care how you feel right now or if you hate me for it later; I'm getting you an appointment with a therapist. You’re going to tackle your demons, and you’re going to be the best goddamn mother to your two children, loving them no matter who their father is, or so help me God, Ava…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but I understood the weight behind his words. Breathless, he held me tighter, those grey storms in his eyes softening as his grip around me solidified. I let myself sink into him, surrendering to his strength and the warmth radiating from him. “How did you find me?” I whispered, my voice breaking as he began to carry me to his car. “I will always find you, Ava,” he promised, his tone resolute. “Thank you for pulling me back today,” I murmured, feeling shame seep into my consciousness as realization swept over me—contemplating my life, my baby’s life, even for a fleeting moment, was a burden I shouldn’t have to bear alone. He responded with a gentle kiss to my cheek, then my temple, a tender reminder of the bond we still shared despite the wreckage surrounding us. Rowan was right. Noah didn’t deserve to lose his mother, nor did my unborn child deserve to be a victim of my despair. They deserved a mother who learned to embrace life, to love fiercely, even against the backdrop of bitterness. A change was in the air—one that required pushing aside my anger and confronting Ethan. He needed to know he was going to be a father. It was time to make that trip to prison.