Beyond These Walls (The Walls Duet #2)(50)

But the IUD had failed.

“But, she could still miscarry?” I interjected, feeling like we were skirting around a very real possibility.

Dr. Riley nodded, her eyes darted to Lailah. “Yes. Because I had to remove the IUD, there is a very real possibility of miscarriage. But I didn’t want to leave it in and run the risk of infection later on in the pregnancy.”

When we grew attached. The words hung in the air even though they hadn’t been said.

I swallowed a lump in my throat, but it didn’t go away. None of this was ever going to go away.

“Tell us about the risks.” Lailah’s soft voice pushed through the haze of my dark thoughts.

“There’s an increased risk of hypertension, infection, and of course, rejection.”

My heart faltered at his words. If Lailah’s body began rejecting the transplant, there was nothing else that could be done—no magical cures, no last-minute surgeries. Her life would be over.

And so would mine.

The blood hissing through my ears was so loud that it sounded like a freight train. Both doctors went over our options in detail, including genetic testing and when to call as I tried to focus, my eyes blurring in and out as I held back tears.

I didn’t remember much of the trip back home, only Lailah’s steady hand on mine.

And her eyes—I remembered her vacant, distant eyes. If I had a mirror, I would imagine mine looked much like hers.

The minute the apartment door shut behind me, my legs gave out. The last bit of strength I had been holding on to rushed out of me like a billowing cloud of dust as my back slid against the cold metal behind me. Every emotion and every tear I’d held in check after walking into our apartment the day before and finding her holding that ultrasound picture sprang forward, erupting out of me like a dormant volcano brought back to life.

I sobbed, filled with grief for the life we might never have. I screamed to the heavens for everything they were putting us through, and I doubled over in anguish, secretly wondering if this was all somehow my fault.

I’d always demanded we use condoms. But did I check them every single time? What if one had a rip or a tear? Was I too rough with her on our wedding night?

Does it even matter now?

“Jude,” a soft voice spoke.

I glanced over to see Lailah hesitantly reaching out toward me. She looked scared, timid, as her hand touched mine.

“It’s okay,” she soothed.

“How is this f*cking okay, Lailah?” I snapped.

I realized my error as she withdrew from me in an instant.

“You don’t want to have this baby, do you?” she said softly. Her hands wrapped protectively around her waist as she curled into a sitting position on the couch.

“You can’t honestly tell me that you’re considering it? You and I were in the same room, weren’t we?” I asked, finally standing from my pathetic spot on the floor.

“Don’t you see, Jude? Don’t you get it? We made a child, a baby, despite our best efforts to do the opposite. It’s a gift, Jude. It’s a gift,” her voice whispered softly.

“It’s a death sentence!” I shouted, my hands raking wildly through my hair.

“You don’t know that!” she countered, her eyes filling with moisture.

“And you do? What happens when your body starts rejecting the transplant, Lailah? Then, not only do we lose that precious gift of ours, but I lose you,” I choked out, my voice hoarse from yelling. “I can’t—no, I will not allow it.”

The finality of my words cut through the air.

“I think we should talk about this later,” she said, taking the sleeve from her hoodie to wipe her swollen eyes.

I could tell by her demeanor that she was done for now, and frankly, so was I. Nothing would be accomplished like this—screaming at the top of our lungs to see which one of us could last the longest.

It was childish and petty.

“I’ll head to the office and give you some time alone. I’ll be back early this afternoon. Maybe we can talk then?” When we’ve had time to cool off. I didn’t say it, but the thought was implied.

“Okay.” She nodded.

Reaching down, I kissed her temple, my eyes squeezing shut, as my fingers brushed through her hair. A month ago, we had been nearly drunk on our happiness as our entire lives were spread out before us like the first day of spring. Now? Now, I felt nothing—nothing and everything all at the same time—and I had no idea where any of it would take us.

WE’D NEVER FOUGHT like that before.

In all the days and hours we’d been together, I’d never felt such anger and frustration toward him. Even after he’d left, leaving me nothing more than a cowardly note and leading me to falsely believe he couldn’t handle my ill-fated future, I hadn’t felt a tenth of what I did now—hurt, betrayal, disappointment.

So many emotions were so close to the surface, and I couldn’t begin to sort them all out.

Without him here, I thought that maybe I could clear my head, take a walk, or spend some time alone just sorting through everything that was swarming around in my thoughts.

But now, I just felt lost.

During our week in the warm paradise of the Seychelles Islands, we had fallen in love with sunset walks on the beach. It sounded cliché, but when you were in a place like that, you couldn’t help but indulge in the dreamy, exotic side of life. As we’d walked, Jude would always point out shells along the water’s edge, picking up any he might find interesting. On our last day, as the sun had set behind us, he’d spotted a perfect conch shell among the surf.