Two Heartbeats

A woman at five weeks was only supposed to carry a tiny cluster of cells. I stood in the dim bathroom with my hand flat against my belly. My heart was pounding, and I did not dare to breathe as I waited for that strange kick to happen again. Nothing. I let out a shaky breath and leaned over the small sink. “You are losing your mind, Aurora,” I muttered. It made sense. I had barely slept in weeks. My back ached from scrubbing dirty dishes at the diner, and I was surviving on cheap bread and pure anxiety. My tired nerves were just playing tricks on me. I splashed cold water on my face, but when I looked down at the counter, reality stared right back. Two bright red lines. Clear as day. I could tell myself whatever I wanted, but the test did not lie. I was pregnant. Early the next morning, I threw on my coat and walked to the nearest community clinic. I almost turned around twice before walking through the glass doors. I was down to my last few dollars, and every unexpected medical bill scared me to death, but I could not ignore what was happening to my body. After paying the basic consultation fee at the front desk, a nurse called my name and led me into a small room. The doctor walked in with a clipboard, asking routine questions while glancing through my intake form. “Morning sickness?” she asked. “Every single day,” I answered quietly. “Any dizziness?” “Yes.” She checked the test stick I had brought in. “We will need blood work and an ultrasound to confirm.” A short while later, I was lying on an examination bed with cold gel spread across my stomach. I stared straight at the white ceiling tiles, keeping my expression smooth and composed even as my fingers gripped the edge of my coat. A loud, rapid whooshing sound filled the small room. The technician stopped moving the wand. I turned my head. “Is there a problem? She did not answer. She dragged the scanner across my lower belly again, her eyes fixed on the monitor. “Wait a second.” She stepped out into the hallway and came back with the doctor. Both of them stared at the screen, whispering quietly between themselves. I sat up slightly on my elbows, keeping my voice calm and controlled. “Please tell me what is going on. Is the pregnancy normal?” The doctor turned the monitor toward me. Her face was professional, showing neither pity nor alarm. “You are definitely pregnant, Miss Brooks. About five weeks along.” I let out a quiet breath. Five weeks. Five weeks since that reckless night in Blackwood Ridge. Five weeks since I held a wounded, dangerous stranger in the dark. “Why did you call the doctor over?” I asked. The doctor looked at me and tapped her pen against two tiny dark spots on the screen, sitting side by side. “Because you are carrying twins,” the doctor said. “Two distinct sacs. Their development is unusually fast for this stage, and their heartbeats are already remarkably strong.” The room went completely quiet. Twins. Two babies. A heavy weight dropped right into the pit of my stomach. My throat went completely dry, but I kept my chin up and refused to let my voice shake. I was not going to break down in front of hospital staff who saw dozens of patients like me every single day. “Are there any immediate health risks?” I asked evenly. “None that we can see right now,” the doctor said, printing the scans and signing the medical slip. “Your hormone levels are higher than usual, which is common with twins. Make an appointment at the front desk for your next checkup in four weeks." “Thank you.” The nurse handed me a standard white clinic folder containing the printed ultrasound pictures and my official lab results. I took the folder, thanked them politely, and walked out the front doors. The second the clinic doors shut behind me and the cold city air hit my face, my knees nearly buckled. I walked into a quiet, narrow alley between two brick buildings, pressed my back against the cold wall, and covered my mouth with both hands. Tears burned hot behind my eyes. Two babies. How was I going to survive with two babies? I did not have a real job. I did not have a family. Asher had thrown me away for Sophie, and my father had kicked me out into the street without a single cent. I was living in a run-down room, counting pennies just to buy milk and eggs, and now two innocent lives were depending on me. I looked down at the white folder in my trembling hands. Two tiny dots on a grainy black-and-white picture. I swallowed the lump in my throat and wiped my wet cheeks with the back of my coat sleeve. Crying was not going to pay for baby clothes. Crying was not going to put food on the table. These babies were mine. They had nobody else in this world to protect them, and I was going to do whatever it took to keep them safe. I tucked the clinic folder deep inside my handbag and walked straight back to my apartment. I sat down at the small table, pulled out a notepad, and listed every private laboratory and clinical testing facility within bus distance. If I wanted to support two children, washing greasy plates at the diner would never be enough. I needed a real job in my field. I unzipped my suitcase to grab my paperwork. I dug through my folded clothes, searching for the blue leather file. Nothing. My heart skipped a beat. I dumped the whole suitcase onto the narrow mattress, pulling out every single notebook and textbook. Empty. Cold dread washed over me. My blue folder was not here. My original university degree, my state biotechnology certification, and my sealed official transcripts were still locked inside the top desk drawer of my old bedroom at the Brooks mansion. I sank onto the edge of the bed, my fingers digging into my hair. Without those original papers, no legitimate research lab in the city would look twice at my application. They would treat me like an unqualified dropout, and I would be stuck scrubbing grease off restaurant tables forever. The thought of setting foot on the Brooks property made my stomach churn with pure disgust. The way Nathan had sneered at me when he tore up my life. The way Sophie had smiled like a snake as she took my room, my fiancé, and my family. I glanced at my handbag sitting by the front door, the clinic folder with the twin scans resting inside it. Pride was a luxury I could not afford anymore. Pride would not buy baby formula, and pride would not pay next month's rent. I had to get those papers. I would take the early morning bus while Nathan was away at his corporate office. I still had my spare key. I would slip inside quietly, grab the blue folder from my old desk, and walk out before anyone realized I was there. Ten minutes. That was all I needed. I pulled the thin blanket over my shoulders and stared at the cracked ceiling, praying the morning would come quickly. I had no idea that walking back into that mansion would be the biggest mistake of my life.