Chapter 11
Lily’s POV
I sat on the bed in my run–down apartment, clutching the folded pamphlet tightly in my hands until my knuckles turned white. Three months. Three months of nausea, three
months of exhaustion, three months of pretending like nothing had happened. My fingers
trembled as they traced the bold title on the pamphlet: “Women’s Choice Center.”
I had been sick for a week, at least that was the reason I had given the Skyline nightclub. The truth was, I couldn’t bear to wear those revealing outfits anymore, perform in front of those drunken men, all while carrying a life inside me. Every time I thought of that night
the night that changed my life – I felt a wave of nausea, unrelated to morning sickness.
I tried to find other work, but what could a dropout from the dance department do? I had no degree, no real work experience, except dancing at a club. My savings were almost depleted, rent was due soon, and my options were dwindling.
The most logical course of action was to proceed with the abortion as planned. It was my own child, but I also wanted to give my child the life they deserved. Adoption was not an option for me; I was too attached to the child, too quickly, to ever give them up. Even if I wanted to leave something behind, I couldn’t bear to leave something behind that I didn’t
want to.
I took a deep breath, picked up my phone, and dialed the number on the pamphlet. When
a gentle female voice answered the phone, my heart raced.
“Women’s Choice Center, this is Lisa, how can I help you?”
“I… I would like to make an appointment,” I said softly, as if someone was eavesdropping.
“Of course, dear. I need to ask you a few questions. What is your name?”
“Lily,” I replied, “Lily Reed.”
“Alright, Lily. How far along are you in your pregnancy?”
I closed my eyes, “Three months.”
“Have you had an ultrasound before?”
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“No.”
“Are you sure you want to terminate the pregnancy, or would you like to schedule a
consultation first?”
My throat tightened, “I don’t want to discuss anything. The longer I wait, the more I’ll
regret my decision.”
The word “discuss” scared me. I didn’t want to discuss anything because I knew the longer
I waited, the more I would regret my decision. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be a parent, because I did want to be a parent, but what was the point of being pregnant when you
couldn’t even enjoy the experience?
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line. “Lily, I understand you may
be in a hurry, but we need to make sure you fully understand all your options. We have a slot for a consultation tomorrow. Can we schedule you to meet with our counselor?”
I agreed and hung up the phone, feeling even more panicked. I opened my laptop and
searched for the abortion process. When I finally mustered the courage to click on a video, my stomach churned.
That day, I ran to the bathroom to vomit for the fourth time.
I sat on the bathroom floor, clutching the edge of the toilet, tears streaming down my
cheeks. Part of me wanted this child – to have something that was truly mine, a real
family member. But another part knew I couldn’t provide the life this child deserved. I had no stable job, no support system, and the child’s father… Nathan didn’t even know I was
pregnant.
Adoption wasn’t an option. I knew my own personality, and once I held this child, felt its
heartbeat, I could never let go.
“I just wish all of this would disappear,” I whispered to the empty bathroom, “so I can
move on with my life and never make the same mistake again.”
A knock on the door interrupted my self–pity. I wiped away my tears, walked to the door, not expecting anyone. Through the peephole, I was surprised to see Richard standing outside my apartment, holding two bags.
I hurriedly glanced around, trying to tidy up my cluttered little apartment. I stuffed the
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abortion clinic pamphlet under the sofa cushion, kicked the scattered dirty clothes under
the bed. I checked my reflection in the mirror – oh God, I looked like a mess. My skin was pale, eyes swollen, hair a tangled mess.
I took a deep breath and opened the door.
Richard stood there, smiling, looking completely different from his Mafia godfather persona. He was dressed in casual white shirt and dark pants, appearing more like a visiting uncle than the head of New York’s most notorious crime family.
“Hi, Lily,” he said gently, “Can I come in?”
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