ARYA

The air in the waiting room smelled strongly of antiseptic. It made my stomach churn. I sat perched on the edge of the stiff chair, both of my hands resting protectively on my flat belly.

The other women around me looked calm. Some of them were flipping through magazines, and others held hands with their partners, whispering quietly. And then there was me... silently crumbling under the weight of my nerves.

I hadn't told him.

Not because I didn't want him here, but ...