Chapter Text
Isabel Conklin, was an idiot.
She'd felt like one her entire life, on many separate occasions.
Like whenever she'd dared to compare herself to Steven, the super genius. Or the time she'd practically ruined 4th of July by getting pathetically drunk and had subsequently broken Susannah's cake plate.
Or when she'd believed Conrad when he told her that eating lots of carrots would give her x-ray vision...
Or when she'd believed Conrad when he told her that Jeremiah was doing fine, that he was accepting of their feelings for one another.
When she'd gone berserk on Conrad at his mother's funeral, and made it about their relationship when Jere had been waiting for her upstairs.
Or every single time she'd turned stupid over Conrad, lapping up his meager affection like a starved puppy. And lashing out like an...idiot, every time he took it away.
But never in her life had Belly thought she'd be an idiot for falling in love with Jeremiah Fisher.
And she'd fallen alright, face first into the most brutal Bellyflop™ of fucking heartbreak.
But she was just that, an idiot.
Because here she was, finding out that love was a lie.
Because the one person she'd thought would never hurt her for the rest of her life had told her that he'd fucked some other girl when he'd thought that they'd broken up.
She can barely feel her legs moving beneath her, the stinging in her palm intensified by how tightly she's clenching her fists.
Her palm is stinging...because she'd slapped him in the face.
She'd slapped him in the face because he'd told her that he'd had sex with someone else.
She runs faster.
She's breathing so hard it's as if she's not breathing at all, and she doesn't know if it's from the effort it's taking her to run this fast or if she's hyperventilating from the sheer force of the pain in her chest.
The pain that's only gotten worse the farther away from him she gets.
Her dress, white with pretty patterns of blue, tied up tightly to accentuate her figure, now feels as if it's making the pain worse, squeezing in the shards of her shattered heart, making them pierce her chest.
Every movement hurts, but she doesn't stop running.
Bile still burns her throat, the sour taste lingering on her tongue.
She can't even put real effort into sobbing, the tears are just oozing out of her, too much pain bubbling up inside of her to be let out, there's nowhere for it to go, all that she is, her very being, is pain.
The world has been swept from beneath her feet, it's like she's not even touching the ground.
Every step makes her feel as light as air, like she's withering away into nothing as she runs back to her dorm like her life depends on it.
And maybe it doesn't, but her pride and her dignity do, because she knows, if she shifts focus, she'll be running back to him instead, begging him to explain it again, because maybe she'd just misunderstood the first time.
The pain in her chest, a tether, yanking her back toward him.
But she can't let herself do that, and it wouldn't matter anyway, because she's at the doors of her building, and she's rushing in like a mad woman.
The next thing she knows she's in front of her room pounding on the door desperately, she's not thinking straight, can't get her keys out and actually open the door.
Anika comes into view, the door opened just a crack, concern slowly bleeds into her features.
Then fear.
"Belly...what-?"
"He cheated. On. Me." She gets it out with gritted teeth, she has to get it out, just spit out what was festering inside of her, maybe that would make it better.
It doesn't.
Anika's face morphs into one of horror.
And that's when it happens.
She breaks.
Let it be known that this was when Isabel Conklin shattered.
She falls into the room on her knees, hands clutching at the carpet, as the first real, ugly, broken sob leaves her throat.
Fuck.
Belly thinks she could scream, if she tried, maybe it would dislodge the lump in her throat.
She can't see anything anymore, it's all a blur as Anika gets a hand on her elbow and tries to pull her from the floor.
Finally out of the door way, Anika clicks it shut and practically drags Belly to her room.
"Why would he do it?" Makes it's way out of Belly's mouth, the only coherent thing in the mix of babbled sobbing.
Anika shakes her head, and Belly feels it more than sees it.
"I don't know, Belly. I'm so sorry." That only makes her cry harder.
__
About an hour passes of Belly trying to explain the situation to Anika through tears and garbled words, she barely manages to make sense of anything but nods after every sentence.
Belly's phone has been buzzing and ringing nonstop and Anika has had to stop her from flinging it at the wall more than once.
"I just...I just wanna lie down, now? I...I can't." Her voice cracks as she tears up again.
God, will she ever run out of tears?
"I got it, babe. You rest and I'll go finish up my studying okay?" Belly nods weakly, and lays down on her bed, her body automatically curling up into a ball cradling the pain in her chest, the instinct to hide her woundedness overtaking her.
Anika leaves, and Belly sinks into the silence, and falls asleep, having cried herself to the point of exhaustion.
She wakes twice in the night, crying in her sleep waking up on a particularly rough sob.
She feels like Bella from Twilight, the thought makes her huff an attempt at a laugh.
The next morning when she wakes she's floating in a void of pain, motionless and still, in a way she hadn't remembered feeling other than when she'd found out about Susannah's death.
There was no moment before awareness where she'd forgotten her pain, no, it followed her into her sleep and back into wakefulness.
Nothing, no dreams to ease her mind, just painful silence enveloping her all night.
It's in this silence that Belly remembers.
And pained keen falls from her lips.
"No, no, please no." She mutters under her breath.
She'd missed her period.
She'd bought the test, and it was sitting, unopened, in her bedside drawer.
She had to take it, obviously, but what would she do if-
No, there was no way it would be.
As she looks at the bedside table she spots the shell bracelet Jeremiah had gotten her a few months before...the one he'd gotten her after Cabo.
After the fight, where he'd said "Let's end it." And she hadn't taken him seriously.
How could she? There was no way they could have ever broken up! Not to her at the time, in her mind there was no reality where they weren't together, he was mad, but he'd come around.
That stupid fucking bracelet. She grabs at it with all the rage she can muster, the cheap flimsy thing feels so delicate in her hand, and she chucks it somewhere on the other side of her room.
She wanted to do the same to her phone. All night it had been buzzing nonstop, Jere likely hadn't slept...
Why should she care.
She was probably fucking pregnant with a cheater's baby.
Fuck!
She sits up in a rush and shakes her head vigorously, it only makes her dizzy.
She needed to know.
That was it, she just needed to know and it would be fine.
So she gets up and opens the drawer, takes the test out and heads to the bathroom, Anika is asleep on the couch so it saves her from having to explain herself.
Her hands are trembling as she opens the box, the stick in her hands looks exactly like the ones in the movies, good to know.
Her hands shake so hard she nearly drops it into the sink.
It's so small. So...stupidly simple looking. Just plastic and chemicals and a fate she isn't ready to face.
She stares at it.
Can't bring herself to move.
Not yet.
Her breath catches in her throat again, dry and tight and shallow.
God, how many times had she cried already? Her tear ducts feel like they're working on muscle memory alone now.
She can't afford to cry again. Not now.
Because if she cries, she might not stop.
She unwraps the plastic with shaking fingers, blinking fast.
The instructions are still inside, tucked behind the test in a little slip of paper. She knows how it works, every girl does, more or less, but she reads them anyway.
Something about the tiny, neat diagrams makes her feel like she's watching someone else's life.
She reads it three times. Not because she doesn't understand it.
But because once she finishes reading, she'll have no excuse left.
She looks at herself in the mirror. Pale. Puffy eyed. A stranger.
Then, quietly, she lifts her dress, lowers her underwear, and sits.
The silence is unbearable.
The sound of her own pee hitting the stick feels too loud, like it echoes off the walls and rattles in her bones.
She should've peed into a cup and dipped the stick in...god, disgusting.
Her hand trembles, steadying the test beneath her with all the precision of someone trying to defuse a bomb.
When she's done, she sets it on the edge of the sink like it's burning her fingers.
And then...
She waits.
One minute.
Two.
She's not sure if she's breathing.
She tries not to look, but her eyes keep dragging toward it, even though the instructions said three minutes.
She counts them out in her head, each second a small eternity.
She closes her eyes.
Thinks of Cabo.
Thinks of that goddamn bracelet.
Thinks of Jeremiah's hands on her skin, the way he whispered promises into her mouth like they were gospel. She remembers believing him. God, she remembers believing him.
Her eyes sting.
She's not ready.
She's not ready.
But the three minutes are up.
She reaches out.
And flips the test over.
It's sort of anticlimactic, the way something simply wasn't before and now it is.
Her entire life has changed in this very moment and there's no rewind button, no loud bang or ominous background music.
It just is.
The word staring back at her, 'Pregnant'.
That was all there was.
She begins shaking even more than she already was, trying to brace herself against the sink as she goes weak in the knees.
She'd imagined this moment before, late at night with a lazy smile on her face, or after a big meal cradling her bloated stomach.
She'd imagined that she was older, and Jeremiah was right next to her breathing heavily and pacing back and forth.
They were married, in this daydream of hers, responsible adults who'd done it right, had the house, the dog, the picket fence.
In some versions he hated his job but not enough to quit, working in finance for his father, their quality of life exactly what the man expected, in others he had his own restaurant and didn't speak to his father anymore.
One of these was a realistic outcome of what their perfectly imperfect life could've been and the other the real dream, the inner delusional little girl that used to dream up similar things about Conrad and herself.
This was nothing like either of those dreams, because that's what they both were. Dreams.
And she was an idiot.
A pregnant idiot.
She caps the test and sticks it into the pocket of her dress, then she makes a beeline back into her bedroom and collapses onto the bed.
She lays there for god knows how long, just staring at nothing, not really thinking either.
Eventually, some minutes, maybe hours later, there's a light knock on her, she watches dazed as Anika halfway slips in through the crack in the door.
"Taylor's here." She says in a gentle tone, as if talking to a spooked animal, and Belly doesn't have it in her to be offended.
"I'm asleep." Comes the reply, not much thought behind it.
She didn't want to see Taylor, not just because of the fact that Lac- that girl was a part of Taylor's sorority, or the fact that Taylor had introduced them yesterday, none the wiser with a smile on her face.
But because she would tell her, immediately, and Belly needed time to figure out if she was actually experiencing this nightmare or if she'd fallen and broken her neck in the three legged race and this was hell.
She hears Taylor and Anika's voices for a brief minute before the front door clicks shut.
Good, she needed time to be alone.
__
A few hours later, Belly can't avoid having to get out of bed.
She pulls on a clean pair of jeans and a red jacket that still smells faintly of laundry detergent.
Her body aches, not from anything in particular, just from being.
The pregnancy test stays behind, sealed back into its box and shoved into her bedside drawer like she’s trying to bury the evidence of a crime.
Anika is waiting near the couch, backpack slung over one shoulder, looking like she hasn’t stopped worrying for a second.
She doesn’t ask questions when Belly appears, just gives her a soft smile and gestures toward the door.
"I'm- uh, I'm headed to the library." She still feels the need to tell Anika, there's no pressure, she's just doing a brave thing.
"Want me to walk with you till our paths split?" She offers.
Belly nods, it's easier to be brave with a friend.
The walk is slow. Trees line the sidewalk, rustling faintly. Students pass by, laughing, drinking iced coffee, walking backward while ranting about assignments. Life goes on. She's walking through it like a ghost.
Anika tries to fill the silence at first, something light about her lecture or a professor being dramatic about a grading rubric.
Belly pretends to listen, lets the words pass through her like wind. Anika can tell, and she goes quiet for a while.
"You just have to make it to the library, one thing at a time."
Belly wants to laugh, but she's not sure if she can.
"Yeah...but every thing, leads back to him."
He's everywhere, in everything. He's even in the thing that's growing inside of her, the thought makes her stomach twist and she clears her throat to clear her mind.
"Like, I can't just study. I also have to...call and quit my summer job. Because, obviously I won't be in Cousins because...Jeremiah."
"And then I have to figure out how to tell my mom that I can't...bring myself to go to Susannah's memorial because, again, Jeremiah."
Her mind starts racing.
"And I might never even go to the summer house again, because of fucking, Jeremiah!"
Anika's hand finds it's place on her shoulder. "Hey-"
But Belly can't calm down.
"I can't do it. I can't be in that house. Not with him there. I can never go back at all."
She's picking up pace, fast now, like the thoughts are chasing her and she has to outrun them.
"I can't see him. I can't- I'll...I'll lose my mind. I'll scream. I'll throw something. I'll cry and I won't stop, and then I'll crawl back to him even though I hate him, right now, and I can't- Anika, I can't."
Anika stops walking, grabbing her wrist gently to slow her down.
"Belly," she says softly. "Breathe."
But Belly can't.
Because it hits her all at once, in one dizzying, silent explosion.
She's pregnant. With Jeremiah Fisher's baby.
She feels the blood drain from her face.
She can't do this.
She won't.
She can't be tied to him forever. Not like this.
Not through a child, through co-parenting, through late night handoffs and awkward birthdays and gut-wrenching compromises.
Not...not like her parents.
She can't live a life that bends around the ghost of this pain.
She has to get rid of it.
There's no other option. No space in her life. No room in her heart. Not when it’s already cracked down the middle.
"Okay, Belly. Obviously, one thing at a time is not gonna work."
"No. No, it's not, because everythi-"
And as if things couldn't get worse, that's when she spots her.
Lacie Barone.
Standing with her two friends not even twenty feet away from her.
"Oh, god." She whispers under her breath as they make fleeting eye contact.
Anika grips her shoulder. "Hey. You're gonna be okay." She says as she begins to steer her away.
But Belly isn't going to be okay, nothing will ever be okay again because as soon as Lacie is out of her line of sight she's beelining for the nearest trash can, and then, without any further warning she throws up bile.
Dry heaving once, twice, until her knees buckle and she's gripping the edge of the metal can for balance.
Anika is there immediately.
"Oh, god, Belly." She whispers under her breath, holding back her hair and rubbing at her back.
"It's okay. It's gonna be okay." She repeated, over and over again.
But Belly was vomiting into a garbage bin in public, pregnant by her cheating ex. It was not fucking okay.
When she's done heaving, Anika hands her a napkin she procured seemingly out of thin air.
Belly nods her thanks and wipes roughly at her mouth. For a second she just stands there awkwardly, feeling Anika's concerned look but too afraid to meet her eyes.
"I- uh...I'm gonna head to the library." She meets her eyes for a second before darting them away, but not before she sees Anika nod, then she briskly walks away.
__
The library isn't much better.
Neither is any part of campus, because everywhere she goes, there are echoes of Jeremiah, of their love, their perfection.
The library is quiet, still.
Too still.
Belly sits down at the back, far from the windows, far from the students chatting softly near the front desk.
She opens her computer without really knowing why, maybe just to give her hands something to do, her mind something to grasp at.
Everything feels unreal, like she’s watching herself from above.
Search bar.
Clinic near me.
Click.
Scroll.
She doesn’t even read the names of the places, just finds one that looks discreet enough, one that doesn’t ask too many questions.
She follows the prompts on their website—how far along are you, have you taken a test.
Do you have any support?
No, she clicks.
She pauses, that isn't right. He would support her.
He'd be so fucking supportive, because that's who he was.
And he probably was telling the fucking truth about thinking that they were broken up, and this was all a big misunderstanding, and she was overreacting and punishing him, because she was an idiot.
He would hold her hand the entire time, tell her he would never force her to do anything she didn't want, then he'd buy her ice cream and hold her while she cried.
She clicks, yes.
But she felt betrayed. That was what mattered. It was cheating because she felt betrayed, it doesn't matter if he thought it wasn't because it felt like it to her.
And could she even consider keeping this baby? Trying with him?
No.
She couldn't be with him. Not after this.
And she would never forgive him and that would taint their stupid yet cordial co-parenting experience the entire time.
No, she clicks again.
She does all of this with a straight face.
She fills in her contact details like she’s registering for a dentist appointment. Nothing inside of her is screaming. It’s more like this blank, white space, stretching out forever.
She selects the earliest available appointment.
Two days from now.
She confirms the time, jots it down in the notes app on her phone, stares at the screen until it goes dark.
She shuts her laptop and leaves the library.
Then she does the next thing on her mental list, calling her mom.
Not to tell her. Just to ask for her birth certificate. That’s it. That’s all.
The call goes...well. Her mom is at a conference and can't send her birth certificate, but she's happy for her.
Then she asks about Jeremiah. And Belly scrambles, falters.
She hangs up.
Just like that.
Call ended.
She can’t do it. She can’t say the words out loud. We broke up. He cheated on me. I’m pregnant. I’m getting an abortion.
She puts her phone into her pocket and starts speed walking, destination unclear, heart pounding in her ears.
Belly’s life is fracturing into two parallel timelines.
In one, she’s studying in Paris, staying in a tiny overpriced flat, drinking espresso with too much sugar and letting go of him in increments.
In the other, she’s stuck in Cousins with a baby in her arms and Jeremiah in her orbit forever.
She knows which life she wants.
She just hopes she’s not too late to claim it.
But even as she sets her mind...she can feel her heart forgiving him.
__
When she and Anika finally meet up again, she's getting her picture taken, completely sullen and dried out.
Her jacket was zipped all the way up, even though it was warm inside. Everything felt too bright, too loud.
Anika stood nearby, arms crossed and fuming on Belly's behalf.
"I just can't believe it," she said, shaking her head. "He acts so devoted! Always 'Belly this' and 'Belly that' but he's just as shady as the rest. I swear, if he comes to our dorm, it's on sight."
That almost made Belly smile.
Almost.
Her lips twitched upward without permission, but before it could become anything real, the woman behind the camera called out flatly, "Don't smile, please."
"That won't be a problem," Belly muttered.
"Kind of sucks you're not leaving for Paris tomorrow." Anika offers sympathetically.
"Yeah," Belly said quietly.
She wished she were.
Wished she could blink and be across the ocean with cobblestones under her feet and flaky pastries in her hands and no one knowing her name or her story or how completely she'd ruined her life.
She swallowed, eyes trained ahead, the camera still adjusting its focus.
"Do you think I'm being too hard on him?" She asks, her previous train of thought starting up again, the date saved in her phone, yet branded onto her eyelids.
Anika hesitates for a moment.
"Look. If he really thought you were broken up...technically, it's not cheating. But to keep it a secret?" She scoffed.
"That tells me he knew what he did was wrong and he chose to keep it from you. That's the part I can't get over."
Belly blinked.
That was the part she couldn't get over either.
But there was something Anika didn't know.
Something no one knew.
What Anika didn't know was that Belly had a secret too.
It was the day after Christmas, last year. Her mom was off at a writer's retreat in Vermont, Steven was visiting some friends out of state, and Jeremiah had gone skiing with his dad and Conrad.
She could've stayed home. Curled up and cozy, watched bad TV and eaten peppermint bark straight from the tin. But instead, she'd packed a duffel bag, stolen Steven's car, and driven up to Cousins.
It had been snowing lightly, and she remembered thinking how beautiful the town looked in winter, quiet and soft, like it was holding its breath.
She hadn't expected anyone else to be there.
But Conrad’s flight had been canceled. And for three days, it was just them. Snow and silence and old ghosts in every corner of the house.
She never told Jeremiah.
That was her secret. Something fragile and foolish she’d locked away before it could take on any real shape.
Was she a hypocrite?
The click of the camera shutter yanked her back to the present.
The photo had been taken.
Her face, frozen in time, blank, tired and changed.
__
She sees him before he sees her.
She'd swung the door open carelessly, expecting to get on with her day, not daring to think that she would see him...and there he was.
Walking towards her with his head down, shoulders slouched.
She isn't thinking clearly. How could she?
He's...right there and he hasn't seen her and she doesn't know what to do other than pray he doesn't notice her as she walks by.
She tries to make a break for it, running down the short steps...idiot.
He spots her immediately.
"Belly." It leaves his lips like an exhale of disbelief.
It sends her reeling around in the other direction.
She can't do this.
She can't!
"No, please! Don't leave. I- I made the biggest mistake of my life."
Her back is still facing him, and there are two clashing titans inside of her, one fighting to forgive, the other...wanting to break free and beat the ever loving shit out of him.
"Please, just talk to me."
She turns to face him.
He looks like he's been crying.
Not just the watery kind of sad, real crying, red-faced, breathless, wrecked.
And she wants to slap him for it.
She wants to scream 'how dare you' because he doesn't get to be the one who’s falling apart.
"I'll tell you anything. I'll tell you any..."
His eyes search her face like maybe she's still in there. Like maybe she hasn't gone numb.
"I just don't want any more secrets between us."
The voice inside of her head, the one that's telling her to hate him, gets louder. Now he wants honesty?
"Okay," she hears herself say. Her voice doesn't even sound like hers. "How did it happen?"
He blinks, shocked. Maybe he thought she wouldn't ask. Maybe he thought she'd walk away before he had to say it out loud.
"I-I was really sad," he starts. "I was drunk. She was just there."
She nods, she just fucking nods.
She was just there.
Like Belly hadn't been. Like Belly had disappeared. He could've called, he could've stayed!
There is one more question, the only one that really matters.
She has to ask.
Her heart drops. She feels it. Physically. Her body is collapsing from the inside out, yet she steels her resolve. She has to know.
"How many times?"
"Twice."
She thinks she's going to throw up again.
She doesn't.
But she can feel her face contort as she tries to hold back her tears.
She nods. Nods like that number means something. As if once would’ve been forgivable.
"Jere, how could you do this to me?"
She says it like a whisper but it carries. It's all that matters.
And he looks wrecked now, voice breaking open. "Belly, please. I know I don't deserve you, but I love you more than anyone else in the world. And it kills me to see you hurting, and I would do anything to take it back!"
He's crying again.
She wants to wipe the tears off his face. She wants to spit on them.
She wants to cradle him in her arms and tell him that it was okay, that she forgave him, that it didn't change anything. She wants to take her backpack off and beat him over the head with it.
She doesn't do any of that. She can't. She's stuck.
"Just stop," she pleads. "You can’t undo what you did."
And she can't get past it.
She starts to leave, walk away and...just be away from him.
But he stops her, frantic and desperate.
"Belly-!"
He drops to his knees right at the bottom of the stairs, trying to grasp for her hands.
He's pathetic.
"Please. I'm sorry. I’m so sor-"
He breaks.
He breaks and she wants to kick him while he's down and stomp all over his pathetic form.
"I've never loved anyone but you."
And that?
That’s the worst part.
Because she believes him.
Because it's always been her.
It was real.
She could see it in his face when he looked at her like she was the only girl in the world.
When they were stupidly, foolishly happy.
When they were dancing barefoot in the kitchen.
When they were whispering dreams in the dark like they’d live forever.
She knows he loved her.
She knows he still does.
And she wants to forgive him.
She wants to fall into his arms and scream and beat at his chest and then bury her face in his neck and say 'okay, okay, okay' until it was all over.
But it wouldn't be over.
It would never be the same.
'I love him, too,' she thinks, staring at the boy who shattered her and still looks like home.
She wants to forgive him.
She just didn't know how.
'I don’t know how.'
"You were supposed to be the one person who would never hurt me," she says, voice trembling now, the dam starting to crack.
She tastes blood, or maybe just heartbreak.
"And now you’re the person who hurt me the most."
And that’s it.
The truth, laid bare between them. Her body is still. Her fists are clenched. But inside? She’s screaming.
'Please fix it.'
'Please make it un-happen.'
'Please say something else, something better.'
'Please hold me.'
But she doesn’t move.
He doesn’t reach for her.
And for the first time since she was sixteen, she doesn’t run to him.
She walks away.
And he lets her.
And she hates him for it.
And she loves him for it.
And she hates herself most of all.
__
She couldn’t go back to the dorm. Not yet.
Jeremiah might still be there, and she couldn’t stomach the thought of seeing his face again, still wet from tears, still pleading. Still beautiful.
So she went to her study group.
She didn’t speak much. Barely registered the questions being tossed around the table or the highlighters scraping against looseleaf.
Someone offered her a granola bar. She didn’t take it. Her stomach was in knots.
She stayed until the others began packing up, until someone said something about getting dinner, and then she finally stood up and walked back to her dorm with the dread settling heavy in her chest. Each step felt like it echoed in her bones.
When she pushed the door open, it was quiet.
No sign of Anika.
The shower was steaming within minutes.
She stripped off her clothes and stood under the hot spray like it could erase the entire day from her skin.
She scrubbed at her arms until they turned red, rinsed shampoo from her hair twice, stood there until the water began to cool.
She didn’t feel clean.
Back in her room, she pulled on her pajamas and climbed into bed. She curled onto her side, clutching her phone like a lifeline.
There were no new messages.
She opened her camera roll.
And there they were, smiling selfies of them on the beach, Jeremiah lifting her onto his back, blurry sunset photos where she could still hear their laughter. One where they were both wearing Christmas sweaters, cheeks red from cider, eyes shining. One from the dock, barefoot, his lips pressed to her temple.
She pressed a thumb to the screen and felt the ache bloom fresh.
They weren’t ready.
Of course they weren’t.
But they would’ve figured it out, wouldn’t they?
If things hadn’t gone so wrong. If he hadn’t lied. If he hadn’t left her to carry the weight of it all by herself.
They could’ve been happy.
She cried.
Silently at first, then not. A cracked sob tore its way out of her throat as she opened her drawer and pulled out the pregnancy test.
She cradled the little plastic stick in her palm like it was made of glass.
Pregnant.
Still. After all this time. Nothing had changed. No matter how badly she wanted to wish it away.
Tears fell faster now, mournful, angry...exhausted.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
She fell asleep like that, curled around the test, pillow wet, chest hollow.
__
The ringtone shocked her awake.
She bolted upright, blinking at the bright screen. Her heart jumped, it was the first time her phone had rung all day.
She almost didn’t answer.
But it wasn’t Jeremiah’s name.
It was Taylor.
She swiped quickly, voice hoarse and heavy with sleep. "Taylor, I don't wanna-"
But Taylor cut her off, frantic.
"Belly! Steven- he got into a car accident. He's- we're at Providence General. It's bad. I don’t know what to do- I don’t know what to do-"
Her blood turned to ice.
"What?"
Her voice came out flat. Wrong.
Taylor was crying. "You have to come. Please. Please come. I-"
She was already moving.
Phone on speaker, she kicked off the blanket and yanked her pajama shorts down. Pulled on a pair of jeans from the floor. A hoodie from the back of the chair. Socks. Shoes. Her body moved before her brain could catch up.
She tries calling her mom twice, no answer.
She tries her dad, nothing.
Then she calls one more time before she gets into the car. Still no one picks up.
The cab ride was a blur. The hospital is sterile and cold.
When the elevator doors slid open onto Steven's floor, the first thing she sees is Taylor.
She's standing at the end of the hallway, arms wrapped around herself, shaking. Her makeup smudged, eyes red. Her body trembling.
Belly moved toward her, and Taylor rushed forward without a word.
They collided in a hug that wasn't really a hug, more like a mutual collapse. Both of them shaking apart, both of them breaking.
The sterile air tasted like blood and antiseptic and fear.
And the world, already in pieces, tilted again.
"Taylor," Belly breathes out the second they break apart.
Taylor's crying. Her arms are folded across her chest like she's holding herself together with sheer force.
"I'm really sorry." She whispers. Her voice cracks. Her eyes drop to the floor.
Belly's already stepping forward, eyes darting up and down, frantic. "What happened? Were you with him? Are you hurt? What happened?"
Taylor shakes her head, slow. "I...I wasn't in the car."
Belly exhales sharply, a breath punched out of her chest. "Okay," she says, nodding, a tear slipping down her cheek. Relief mixes with the adrenaline still burning through her veins. Taylor's safe. Taylor's safe.
But Taylor isn't finished.
"We were arguing..." She says, voice wavering. "...and I jumped out. And he was trying to come after me."
“Okay.” Belly repeats the word like it’s a prayer, like if she keeps saying it, she’ll believe that things are going to be okay.
But Taylor's face crumples, and a broken sob escapes her lips.
Belly panics. "What? What? Hey, what happened?"
"It's just...my fault," Taylor chokes out, eyes wet, knees buckling beneath her.
"No, no, no," Belly says instantly, wrapping her arms around her and pulling her in tight. She's shaking her head, pressing her cheek into Taylor's hair. "It's not your fault. Don't say that."
"Yes, it is," Taylor sobs into her neck, and Belly tightens her hold. She doesn't let her go.
Then a voice cuts through the hallway, dispassionate and too loud.
"You're with Steven Conklin?"
Both girls look up. A doctor stands in front of them, clipboard in hand, his tone clinical, uninterested. Belly and Taylor nod quickly.
"Yeah," Belly says. "Is he okay?"
The doctor doesn't hesitate. "Initial scans show a cracked rib and a cerebral contusion."
Belly stares at him. The words don’t land. They sound foreign. Cold.
"...Cerebral contusion?" She echoes. Her voice is high and small. "What does that mean?"
"It's a bruise on the brain." The doctor explains. "We won't know how serious it is until the swelling goes down. Until then, we'll keep him sedated."
"So we just...wait?" Her voice is breaking again. "Is that it? We just wait and see?"
"There's some paperwork to fill out," he says with a shrug. "Someone needs to make decisions on his behalf. Can that be one of you?"
"I'm his sister," Belly says automatically.
"Sister works," the doctor nods, already turning to walk away.
"Okay, um, what kind of decisions do I-?"
"It's in the paperwork." He says, waving a hand, then disappearing down the hall.
Belly runs a hand through her hair, overwhelmed.
There’s no room left in her for this.
Not after Jeremiah.
Not after everything.
Her brain can’t hold another crisis.
"I need to...I need to try my parents again." She mutters. Her voice sounds like it’s coming from far away. She sits down heavily.
Taylor sits next to her, blinking away her tears, nodding quickly. "Okay. I-I'll try them. I'll do it."
Belly nods again, trying to focus. She can’t think. "I don't know Steven's fucking insurance! If he's still on our parents' or on his job's. How am I supposed to know his fucking blood type!?"
Taylor pauses, then says, "I think I remember him bragging about being a universal donor." She starts looking it up on her phone.
Belly lets out a broken little laugh. “Of course he would brag about anything.”
Taylor nods. "He’s O negative."
"O negative. Okay." Belly jots it down. She takes a deep breath. "I think I should, uh...I should let a few other people know, too."
Taylor glances up. "You want me to call Jere?"
Belly hesitates.
"I don’t know," she admits. "An hour ago I wanted to throw up just thinking about him. But now I just...I just wish he was here." Her voice cracks again, and then she's crying, trying so hard not to.
Taylor puts a hand on her knee. That makes it worse.
"Hey."
Belly swipes at her eyes. "He would know what to say to make me feel better."
She can't stop thinking about her knee. And how he'd been there, through everything.
He never let her fall.
Taylor tightens her grip. "Hey, I'm gonna be your Jere today. Okay? We'll track down your parents. I will call Jere's dumb ass, too. You just fill out the paperwork. Leave the rest to me. I’m gonna do it." Taylor gets up like she's on a mission.
Belly sniffles and nods. "Okay. Thank you."
She pauses as Taylor is walking away.
"Can you call, uh...Conrad too? He might understand what all this means."
Taylor doesn’t hesitate. "Yeah. I got you. I’m gonna call Conrad."
__
Belly takes a deep breath and starts properly filling out the paperwork. Her pen scratches slowly across the form, her hand heavy.
Allergies. Emergency contact. Medical decisions.
It’s too much.
She doesn’t even know how to be her own emergency contact.
And then, like a whisper in the back of her mind, her thoughts drift.
How could she take care of a baby?
She'd made the right decision.
But...what if...?
What if she was competent?
What if this was meant to be?
What if she lost Steven...and her parents were gone too and all she had left was...the baby?
She doesn't mean to think it.
She's been avoiding that word like it could cut her. It had been 'the pregnancy,' 'the test,' 'the thing.' But now it slips through her thoughts, quiet and dangerous.
The baby.
What if she had no one?
The idea curls around her like smoke. A family. Her own. Something that belonged only to her.
She shakes her head, violently.
No. No. Stop.
Now was not the time. Now was never the time.
Taylor returns, sliding into the seat beside her.
“No answer from your parents yet,” she says, a bit breathless. “But I got Conrad.”
Belly nods, pen still in hand, just trying not to fall apart again.
__
The vending machine blinked dumbly at her.
Plastic coils curled around bags of chips and foil-wrapped granola bars she didn't want.
Her fingers hovered, but she couldn't press a single button. Her stomach twisted, refusing the idea of food.
And then she saw him.
In the hospital lobby.
Jeremiah.
He was sitting alone, hunched forward on a waiting room chair, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands knotted like he was praying.
His hair was a mess. He looked like he hadn't slept, like he hadn't even thought about sleeping. He wasn't looking around for her, wasn't trying to find her.
He was just there.
And God, he looked so much like hers.
Her breath caught in her throat.
He didn’t know she was watching him. He probably didn’t expect her to. But he was here anyway.
She turned around.
Her heart was trembling by the time she made it back to Taylor.
"Jere's here." She said, barely above a whisper as she lowered herself into the chair again.
Taylor didn't look surprised. "Yeah, babe. He just wanted to be here in case you needed him. He's not gonna try to talk to you or anything. He just...he wanted to be here."
Belly blinked hard, staring down at her hands in her lap.
"That's so sweet," she whispered. "Why does he have to be so sweet?" She runs a hand through her hair in frustration.
The words tasted like guilt. Like longing. Like the kind of love that stays no matter how much it hurts.
She didn't want to forgive him.
Or maybe she did...more than anything.
But somewhere between the trauma and the paperwork and the silence of the waiting room, something inside her had already cracked.
He was still the person she craved most when her world fell apart. And maybe he always would be.
"Should I text him?"
She reached for her phone with shaking fingers. Opened the messages.
Her thumb hovered above the keyboard. But before she could decide what to say, the door creaked open.
A doctor stepped in. "Isabel Conklin?"
She stood up quickly. "Yeah."
The doctor explained—something about a consult from Stanford, about managing the swelling, about putting Steven into a medically induced coma.
She barely heard it. Only picked up on the way Taylor glanced at her, a silent Conrad confirmed between them.
She nodded through it all. The vague promise of time.
And then they were allowed in.
Steven looked pale and too still, his face half-shadowed by the machines beside him. Belly hovered by the door until Taylor stepped forward, brushing a hand gently against his cheek.
Eventually, she settled in the corner of the room, curled up in a chair, a blanket pulled over her knees, trying to make herself small.
She thought of the baby. Not it, not the pregnancy, the baby.
She didn’t mean to. The word slipped in without permission. She shut her eyes tight and shook her head. Willed the thought away.
But when she pictured someone holding her through this, telling her what to do, whispering that it would all be okay—it was Jeremiah.
Even now.
Especially now.
Even if she didn't keep it... he'd be there. The whole time.
She cried into her hoodie, silently, as the hospital buzzed around her.
And then, when her body couldn’t hold it anymore, she finally slept.
__
Taylor had told her not to throw it away.
What you and Jere have...don't throw it all away...not if it's still what you want.
And god, she did.
She wanted it so badly it made her nauseous. It burned in her throat like unsaid words and dried up tears.
She wanted it even when it didn't make sense.
Even when it hurt.
That was the worst part. She knew exactly how stupid it was.
And she wanted it anyway.
Idiot.
It was easier to be angry. Easier to scream, to throw things, to curse him out in her head. To imagine cutting him out completely, ignoring every call, every text, pretending he never existed.
That version of her, the one who held onto her pride with both fists, had clarity. She had sharp edges and perfect certainty.
But she was a lie.
Because the truth, the raw, pathetic truth, was that Belly had already forgiven him.
Maybe not with words. Maybe not even in a way that could be explained out loud.
But something inside her had softened.
Cracked open.
The moment she'd seen him in the hospital lobby, that was the moment her anger had completely disappeared.
She hadn't even said anything to him. He hadn't even seen her.
But she'd seen him.
And it hit her all over again. That he'd been there.
That he'd come, and stayed, and didn't ask anything of her.
That he didn't push. Just waited. Just was.
And that mattered. More than she wanted it to.
Belly shifted slightly, staring at the floor. Her fingers were knotted together in her lap. She felt strung-out, like her nerves had been frayed down to threads.
She didn’t know how to hold anything in her hands anymore.
The hope, grief, certainty, forgiveness.
Everything slipped through.
She kept hearing her mom’s voice from earlier. Frantic, breathless, almost like she was underwater.
"Are you okay? Oh my God, Belly, is Steven okay?"
She'd broken down on the phone. Not even words, really. Just tears and shaky breaths and her mom saying how sorry she was, over and over again.
She hadn't told her about the pregnancy. Or about Jeremiah. She couldn't. Not yet.
But she'd let herself be small for a moment. Let herself be held, even through a phone line.
And it had made her realize...so much.
And after the call ended, Belly had sat with the weight of it all, letting it press down on her chest like a warm blanket and a boulder at the same time.
The truth had settled quietly into her bloodstream.
He wasn't right next to me, but it was better knowing he was there.
That thought gutted her. She pressed her knuckles to her lips, trying to keep it all in.
Because she hadn't just missed Jeremiah during all this. She'd needed him.
Not Conrad.
Not her mom.
Not even Taylor, who had stepped up more than Belly could’ve ever asked her to.
She had needed him.
That made it real.
Proved that this wasn't just some four-year-long rebound.
It wasn't some petty rebellion.
She'd been in love with him since she was sixteen years old, and somehow that love had survived everything.
Jealousy, secrets, heartbreak. Even now.
And yes.
She was still hurt.
But she wasn't angry, not anymore.
And when she let her thoughts go quiet, when she stripped everything away, what she was left with was a kind of aching clarity.
Jeremiah Fisher was her home.
Her family.
And even if they weren't ready. Even if they were messy. Even if they'd both lied.
She didn't want to go another second pretending she didn't love him, didn't crave him.
There were still a thousand unknowns.
The baby.
Paris.
What they'd even look like on the other side of this.
But in this one single moment, Belly knew what she wanted.
She wanted to talk to him.
And more than that, she wanted to let him back in.
With honesty. With whatever came next.
She exhaled slowly. Sat up.
She wasn’t sure what she was going to say when she saw him.
But she knew exactly where she needed to be.
With him.
She just needed to wait for Steven to wake up, to be sure that he was okay. And then, she would go to him.
Because, Isabel Conklin, was an idiot.
__
He was awake.
Her big brother was awake.
And everything was alright again.
She could exhale.
She could go to him.
She found him still in the waiting room.
He’d curled up a little, head tipped forward arms slightly tucked into his chest like he’d given in to exhaustion without meaning to.
His chest rose and fell in slow, steady rhythm.
His curls were a mess, his mouth slightly parted, and he looked younger like this. Softer.
Like the boy she used to sneak glances at in the backseat of the car, the boy who once chased her down the beach with seaweed in his hand just to hear her scream.
Her last love.
That’s what she kept thinking.
Like a quiet truth unraveling in the quiet.
Not a placeholder. Not a detour. Not something she could grow out of.
He was the person she had always come back to.
And maybe that meant something.
Maybe that meant everything.
She walked over quietly, then, gently, she reached out and touched his shoulder. Just a small pat. Barely a brush of her fingers.
His eyes snapped open.
He blinked in disoriented confusion for a second, and then his gaze landed on her.
And he froze.
"Belly?"
She nodded, not trusting her voice yet.
He stood up quickly. "Hey. Is- Steven, is he-?"
"He's awake." She said softly, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "He's okay. For now."
Jeremiah exhaled sharply, like the air had been trapped in his chest for hours. "God. Thank God."
She nodded again, tucking her hands into the sleeves of her hoodie. Silence stretched between them for a second, long, heavy and familiar.
But she didn’t want to dwell in that anymore.
She didn’t want the ache of things unsaid to build again.
"Do you wanna get some air?" She asked.
Jeremiah looked at her, startled. Hope flickered in his eyes so quickly she almost missed it.
"I'd love that." He said.
So they went.
__
The air outside the hospital was cool, sharper than she'd expected.
It smelled like rain, like concrete and wet leaves and the distant comfort of a world still turning.
They didn't say anything at first. Just walked, side by side, slowly.
It was quiet. But not the kind of quiet that begged to be filled. This was different. Like the space between them had softened.
After a while, Jeremiah glanced sideways at her.
"I almost didn't come." He said.
She looked at him, surprised.
"I figured you'd hate me, for showing up, I mean." He continued, voice low. "And I would've deserved it. But I just...I had to be here."
She nodded. "I know."
"I was- I am, so mad at you." He seems to brace himself.
"And you have every right to be." Belly nods, looking down.
"I'm sorry for what I did to you, and I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner." He says in a determined voice. " I'm sorry that you found out in the worst way possible."
Belly looks back up at him, arms crossed and a semi-performative frown on her face.
"I know that, it's gonna take a lot of work for you to even begin to trust me again, but, I am willing to do whatever it takes if you let me."
Belly swallows and turns away.
"I'm...sorry too." She can imagine the look of confusion on his face, and she's a coward, because she can't tell him.
There's so much she just can't tell him right now, but she selfishly wants him by her side.
She wants him.
"Sorry...for what?" As she's started walking away, he's walking with her.
"I'm sorry for...everything that led up to that fight." That's true. Not true enough. "And to Cabo."
"I can see how you thought we were broken up." She turns to look at him again, an olive branch.
"You can?" He sounds hopeful, but so afraid.
But she tells him...she tells him that she doesn't understand, she can't get over it. How he could move on so easily, just have sex with someone else while she was so broken.
And he tells her...that he was broken too. She'd seen it, in the pictures they'd posted, it had filled her with grim satisfaction at the time, that he was suffering just like she was.
But to think...that he'd been so hurt, like a wounded animal, and the only way he could think to numb the pain...
She understands now.
Understands that he loves her. He loved her then, he loves her now. And it was pain. The same pain that made her want to hurt him, that same pain...had made him want to hurt himself.
She listened as he told her just how broken he was, how he thought he didn't deserve her.
And Lacie...like a prowling lion, had been right there.
'She was just there.'
'And I cried in the shower for...I don't- I don't even know how long.'
"Then, maybe we...shouldn't let, one mistake erase all these years. I mean if we both believe that what we have is...bigger than our mistakes then..? Maybe we can just start over?"
He looks at her, tears in his pretty blue eyes and nods, he looks so afraid...to hope.
"I want that...Bells, I want that so much. I know I don't deserve it after what I did-"
Belly doesn't wanna think about it, she can't ask, and she can't think about it.
So she moves on, and does what she knows best.
Punches him in the arm.
"You can't ever hurt me like that again."
She says it. And it's done. That pain, that hurt is dead.
And she's not thinking about anything other than her love for him in this moment.
He takes it with a solemn expression and swears, "I promise."
And he can read her eyes as she gets closer to him. Can read the fact that she's let him back in, and she can see it in his eyes that he wants to as well.
As he draws closer...or does she? She can't tell, it's like there's an invisible tether pulling them towards each other, and this time it isn't painful. As they draw closer to one another, she realises that it's back, their ESP.
"I promise." He says again, and seals it with a kiss.
This is the moment. She realises, as their lips touch, his hands on her waist, her arms around his neck, she wants this forever.
She wants a family with him.
And they weren't nearly ready...but most people weren't.
She wants to tell him, as they break away from that kiss, their kiss that always feels like the first time.
She looks into his eyes, and there it is, the love that she could never doubt was there, even when he'd gut her, left her broken, she'd known.
She'd always known.
"I don't wanna mess this up again." He says it so desperately, that even if she hadn't known him in this moment, there's no way she wouldn't believe him.
She shakes her head vehemently because she can.
"We won't." She says, because messing up wasn't just on him, it was on both of them, they were both wrong.
And they'd both just made it right.
She had to tell him.
She was going to tell him.
She grabs his hand.
"After Steven...I get it now. Y'know?" She takes a few steps, his hand in hers. This would be their future.
"Life's too short...not to spend it with the person you love."
She looks at him again, can't stop herself. He's the moon and she's the tide.
Tethered to him, is what she is, and she wouldn't have it any other way.
People always saw him as the sun, daylight, and maybe he was. But he was like her moon, guiding her through her darkest moments, his glow chasing away the darkness.
Maybe he was the universe, the cosmos, everything unseen and unknown.
He is her love.
Her always. Her one.
"I wanna be with you always." She says it simply because it's true. "No matter what. I just can't imagine my life without you."
And that's partially a lie. Because she can imagine life without him, she just can't imagine a good one, a happy one.
She can't imagine a life that makes sense without him.
"Me either." He says, but she already knows.
Grass is green, the sky is blue, and Jeremiah Fisher can't live without Isabel Conklin.
"Belly, it's always been our story, yours and mine." And she smiles at this because it's truth in it's purest form. "Nobody else's."
She going to tell him.
She's gonna do it.
Then he smiles, a ridiculous thought passing through his mind.
And she can't ignore it.
"What are you thinking?" She asks, a stupid smile on her face, because she wants to know every thought that passes through his mind.
"It's nothing...just the future...it's just- crazy."
"Come on, what? Say it." She pushes at his arm, because she knows. Somewhere deep down, of course she knows.
"Would you-"
Oh.
Oh.
"Yes."
It falls out of her, because of course she would.
Of course, she would.
"You don't even know what I'm about to say!" He giggles at her, and he's so beautiful, so hers.
How could she not know.
So she puts her fingers to her temple and scrunches up her face the way she always does when she uses their 'ESP', and says, "Try me."
Because she knows.
And if she didn't know before, she knows when he sets his brows and his jaw and really looks at her.
"Isabel Conklin."
She knows.
"Will you marry me?"
She's already nodding her head before she can get the words out.
"Yes! Yeah, I'll marry you!"
She's grinning so widely and giggling like crazy that it's near impossible for them to properly kiss but they make it work.
And she's so happy and relieved and right on the inside.
Because he loved her, and he wanted to marry her.
Not out of responsibility and duty, but because he loves her.
He wanted to be with her always.
And she was going to tell him, just not yet. She was going to savour this. This nonsensical moment of pure happiness and love.
Because, at the end of the day, Isabel Conklin was an idiot.
But at least she's an idiot who will have Jeremiah Fisher by her side.
Forever.