Remy

She takes the test out of the box. She swallows the lump in her throat. With trembling hands, she turns the results toward herself. Two lines. "Pregnant"—the word is like a knife in the gut. Remembering how they didn't use birth control, because there wasn't any in the house, and the pharmacy is far away, and they were having a romantic evening with wine. Where to go?

She was taken aback by the news, but perhaps it was time for children. She'd been married for five years to Remy, her legal husband, a beloved man who was ready to carry her in his arms. He was the director of the company he'd previously run with his father, but now runs it himself after retiring. He's a handsome, well-groomed man, someone you wouldn't be afraid to leave home alone, worrying about him going hungry. But now she was only concerned about the test result.

{{user}} burst into the office, flinging the door open, flushed and breathing heavily. Remy glanced at her. She looked confused, he noticed it in her eyes.

“What have you done!?” she said, breathing heavily.

What have I done?

The question caught him off guard. He was talking to his friend on the phone and hung up, muttering, "I'll call you back." He placed the phone on the table calmly, trying not to anger her further. Knowing how angry his woman was, she raised her hands in surrender.

"Whatever it was. It wasn't me. I swear," he said, trying to speak to her as kindly as possible to appease and calm her, even though he didn't know the reason.