Forty is the perfect age!
“Izzy, whats taking so long? Did you fall asleep? Were going to be late for work!”
“Coming!” Isabella flinched slightly, glancing at the bathroom door. She knew she was taking longer than usual, but she had her reasons. All week, shed been feeling sick in the mornings, and though shed brushed it off at first, now it scared her.
She had a suspicion why, but the thought of pregnancy terrified her. Shaking her head, she pushed the idea away and stepped out.
“Sorry,” she muttered to her husband. “Couldnt get my eyeliner right.”
“You do that in the bedroom!” Oliver gave her a pointed look.
“Oh, right!” She didnt argue, hurrying to the kitchen to make coffee. They both loved it, but today, the smell alone turned her stomach.
“You alright?” Oliver frowned.
“Yeah, just not in the mood for coffee,” she mumbled.
“Right.” He raised an eyebrow. “You looked like you were about to be sick. Are you ill?”
Isabella hugged herself, trembling at the thought of a baby. Oliver moved closer, touching her forehead.
“Youre not feverish Maybe stay home today? Call in sickwe cant afford you getting worse. The mortgage wont pay itself.”
Once hed left, Isabella sank onto the sofa, lost in thought. She knew what she had to dobuy a test. But the thought made her queasy. If it was positive, this would all become real.
“I just got that promotion,” she thought. “Olivers right about the mortgage, and we wanted that holiday in Spain…”
Once, theyd dreamed of childrenright after their wedding, when everything was rose-tinted and they were twenty. But it never happened. Over time, she stopped thinking about it, content with their life together. Oliver never brought it up either.
Now, the idea of a baby felt like an obstacleextra costs, sleepless nights, noise. She groaned. The timing was awful.
But tired of guessing, she went to the chemists. The test confirmed her fears: she was pregnant. Her hand drifted to her stomach, imagining it already swelling.
A sudden warmth rushed through her. There was a tiny life inside her, depending entirely on her. Fear and joy tangled in her chest.
“Youll be the best little one,” she whispered.
But doubt crept back. She wasnt young anymore. What would Oliver say? What if he was angry? What if he didnt want this?
By evening, she was a mess. When Oliver got home, she forced a smile.
“Dinner?”
“Obviously! Im starving!”
He studied her, noticing something differenther eyes almost sparkled. “You okay?”
“Fine. Had a nap, actually. Work was quietjust prepping for the anniversary party tomorrow.”
“You going?”
She nearly said yes, then hesitated. “Think Ill skip it. Better safe than sorry.”
Oliver frowned. “Since when do you miss parties?”
“Just not feeling it.”
“What about celebrating your promotion with the girls?”
She shook her head. “Lets just go for a walk tomorrow, just us?”
He nodded. “Make us some tea?”
“Sure.”
Oliver watched her move slowly, not her usual brisk self. Only one explanation came to mind, and it stung.
“Who is he?”
“What?”
“The bloke youve fallen for.”
“Ollie, what are you on about?”
He didnt believe her. “Youre glowing! If youve met someone, just say it.”
Before she could protest, he stormed out. She chased after him.
This wasnt how shed planned to tell him, but there was no choice.
“Ollie, Im pregnant!”
He froze. “What?”
She took his hand, pressing it to her stomach. “Its your son or daughter in there.”
His face flickered with emotions, then he pulled away and left.
Isabella stood alone, heartbroken. Once, hed wanted this. Now hed run.
She tidied the kitchen on autopilot, fighting tears. Without him, how would she raise this child?
Half an hour later, sitting in the dark, she heard the doorbell.
Roses. A massive bouquet of her favourites. Then Olivers grinning face.
“Here, Izzy.”
He stepped inside. “Sorry I bolted. I was stunned. Im so happy! If its a boyTheo. A girlEmily. Well call Mum and Dad, book the midwife”
He stopped when he saw her tears. “Whats wrong?”
She buried her face in his shoulder. “I thought you didnt want this. That forty was too old.”
“Dont be daft! Im not going anywhere. Fortys perfect.”
“But the mortgage, my job”
Oliver cupped her face. “Listen. None of that matters. Well manage. And sleepless nights? Bring them on.”
Isabella melted into his arms, relief washing over her. Together, theyd handle anything.
All three of them.
