The clinic wasn't what Aria expected.
It was warm. Quiet. Almost too gentle, as if the space itself was holding its breath for every life-changing revelation that passed through its doors.
She sat on the cushioned bench in the small waiting area, her fingers laced tightly with Leon's. He hadn't let go since they stepped out of the car. She doubted he would anytime soon.
Her nerves hadn't settled—not even a little. She had no reason to expect bad news, but still, her thoughts churned.
Leon squeezed her hand. "Breathe, Aria."
She tried. "What if it's too early to see anything?"
"Then we come back," he said, calm as ever. "This isn't a finish line. It's a beginning."
The nurse called her name, and Aria felt her whole body tense. But she rose. So did Leon. The nurse raised an eyebrow as he followed, but said nothing. No one stopped him.
He wasn't a plus-one. He was hers. And this was their child.
The exam room was softly lit. Clean. Comforting. The doctor—Dr. Lin, her name tag read—had the kind of voice you trusted instantly. Warm but direct.
After the usual questions—last cycle, symptoms, any family history—Aria lay back on the exam table, heart hammering in her chest. Leon stood beside her, one hand resting on her shoulder.
"Ready?" Dr. Lin asked, lifting the ultrasound wand.
Aria nodded, though she wasn't sure if she was lying.
There was gel, cold and sudden. The faintest pressure. And then—
A screen lit up with grainy static. Shadows and motion. The doctor adjusted the angle, and something changed. The image resolved.
"There," Dr. Lin said softly. "That's your baby."
Aria forgot how to breathe.
A tiny flicker pulsed on the screen. Rapid. Alive.
Leon's hand gripped hers tighter.
"Is that—" she whispered.
"The heartbeat," Dr. Lin confirmed with a smile. "It's strong."
Aria's vision blurred. She hadn't realized she was crying until Leon brushed a tear from her cheek with the back of his knuckles.
"Hey," he murmured, voice low and reverent. "That's us, Aria."
She turned her head toward him, unable to form a word. Just nodded. Just cried. Just felt something split open in her chest—something raw and terrifying and perfect.
Dr. Lin gave them space, her movements practiced and quiet. She printed a few images and slid them into a small envelope.
"I'd like to schedule a follow-up in two weeks," she said kindly. "But for now… congratulations. Everything looks healthy."
When the doctor left the room, Aria reached for the printout and stared at it.
A smudge of life. Proof. Possibility.
Leon took it from her gently, then looked at it like he was holding something sacred.
And for once, Aria didn't want to run. Or sabotage. Or shrink from the future.
For once, she wanted to move toward it—step by step, heartbeat by heartbeat.
"We should start thinking of names," Leon said after a long pause.
She laughed—shaky, disbelieving, bright. "Let's get through the first trimester."
He smiled, and kissed the back of her hand. "We will."
They left the clinic hand in hand, the envelope pressed between her palms like a secret. The air outside was brisk, but the chill couldn't touch her.
For the first time, the world felt different.
Not smaller. Not scarier.
Just… real. And hers.
And his.
And theirs.