Elara stared at the thin pink lines as if they might disappear if she blinked hard enough.
They didn't.
Her breath caught, a sharp intake that made her stomach flutter. She sank onto the edge of the bathtub, gripping the cold porcelain as though it could ground her in reality. Fingers trembling, she pressed the test to her chest, feeling her heartbeat echo in her ears.
Pregnant.
A soft, breathless laugh escaped her. Tears pooled, hot and real, as she wrapped her hands around her belly instinctively. Their baby. Her first thought wasn't fear, not yet — it was pure, unrestrained joy.
Victor would be happy.
She imagined his face, the slight widening of his eyes, the way he always held her close in the quiet moments when the city and his empire seemed far away. She could almost feel his hand on hers, guiding, protective.
Her heart swelled, reckless with hope.
She stood, brushing damp strands of hair from her face, smoothing the sleeve of her robe. Her reflection looked different in the mirror. Brighter. Younger. Alive.
Her phone buzzed, vibrating sharply on the counter.
Victor: Still at the office tonight. Don't wait up.
She smiled. Of course, Victor was at the office. He was always at the office. Meetings, shipments, deals — responsibilities she had never asked about and that he never fully explained. She typed back quickly.
Elara: Okay. Be safe.
Then she hesitated.
Why wait?
Her heart pounded. She wanted to see Victor, to tell him before any delay, before work or excuses could dilute the moment. She wanted his surprise, his joy, his laughter. She wanted him to hold her and the baby at the same time.
She grabbed her coat, sliding her phone into her bag. Her heels clicked against the bathroom tile as she left, every step echoing the racing of her heart.
⸻
Outside, New York breathed beneath the stars, alive and unashamed.
The cold night air bit at her cheeks, carrying the mingled scents of rain, exhaust, and hot pretzels from a vendor down the street. Yellow taxis streaked past, their headlights bouncing across slick asphalt. Steam curled from subway grates like the city exhaling secrets. Somewhere nearby, music thumped through the door of a bar, laughter spilling onto the sidewalk. A siren wailed in the distance, fading into the constant hum that was New York at night.
It didn't sleep. It only watched.
Elara wrapped her coat tighter around herself, a shiver running through her. For the first time in weeks, the world felt sharp and alive. She was stepping into the streets with a secret, a hope, a life growing inside her, and she could feel the city leaning in, holding its breath alongside her.
Victor's building loomed ahead, a steel-and-glass monolith, cutting sharply into the night sky. Windows gleamed like watchful eyes, reflecting the city's chaos in miniature — horns, sirens, hurried feet, neon lights pulsing against asphalt. She felt a thrill as she approached. Inside was power, control, a world she had only glimpsed through Victor's stories. And tonight, it would be hers, too, if only for a moment.
The cab pulled up. Elara paid quickly, tossing the driver a few bills, and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Her heels clicked on the marble floor of the lobby, each sound echoing like a heartbeat. A security guard raised an eyebrow and nodded, recognizing her immediately.
"Good evening, Mrs. Hale."
"Good evening," she said, her voice steady, though inside her chest raced.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime. Elara stepped inside and pressed the button for Victor's floor.
As the elevator climbed, she pressed her palm against the cool metal wall, watching her reflection distort in the glass panel beside her. She imagined Victor's smile, his laugh, the way he always promised he would protect her. The thought warmed her chest. The city beneath her dropped away, glittering and infinite, but she barely noticed. She had a secret she couldn't wait to share, a spark that made the streets below her pulse with life.
Her phone rested against her thigh. She checked it one last time. Still at the office tonight.
A thrill ran through her. She was going anyway. Already in motion. Already ahead. Already planning to surprise him.
The elevator stopped. The doors opened.
⸻
Victor's floor was quiet. Dimly lit. The hum of electricity filled the hallway. Light spilled from the office at the far end. Elara's heels clicked softly against the marble, faster now, heart pounding with excitement, anticipation, love.
The door was slightly ajar.
She reached for it.
And froze.
Victor stood behind his desk. Jacket off, tie loosened. His hands were on a woman's waist, fingers gripping fabric that did not belong there. Her hair fell over his shoulder as he leaned down, and then — a kiss.
Not a mistake. Not confusion.
A kiss that belonged.
The pregnancy test slipped from her fingers, clattering against the floor.
Victor's head snapped up. "Elara—"
She didn't hear him.
The world tilted violently. Elera's hand flew to her stomach, protecting her forthcoming child
.
"Get away from him," she said. Her voice trembled, low and sharp.
The woman froze. "I—I didn't know—"
"Get out!"
Victor snapped, "Leave!"
The woman didn't hesitate. She grabbed her bag and fled, heels clicking in the hallway.
Elara's chest heaved. The city outside the office windows sparkled, indifferent, unaware. The streets below continued without pause — taxis honking, neon signs flickering, sirens wailing in the distance. The city had no part in her grief. No part in her betrayal.
"You lied," she said. "You texted me. You looked me in the eye. And you lied."
"Elara, listen to me—"
"I'm pregnant," she whispered. The words fell like shattered glass.
For a moment, his face flickered. Regret. Shock.
Then control returned.
"We'll talk about this. Calmly."
"There is no calm." She shook her head. "I'm leaving."
"If you walk out now," Victor said, voice hardening, "you'll regret it."
The lights flickered. Once. Twice. Smoke curled under the door.
Then the fire alarm screamed.
Chaos erupted.
Flames surged, glass shattered, heat rushed. Victor grabbed her hand, dragging her toward the exit as smoke burned her lungs, her eyes stinging.
"I can't see!" she screamed.
The next moment, an explosion threw her to the floor. Pain seared through her body.
And then everything went black.
⸻
When Elara woke, the city was gone. So was the light.
Her fingers brushed the sheets, searching. "Why is it dark?"
A nurse stepped forward. "Mrs. Hale, you're safe. You're in the hospital."
Her voice trembled. "Why can't I see?"
Silence answered.