Was he laughing or crying?
"Kenneth?"
"Sorry, I thought you said you were pregnant."
"It's what I said."
Kenneth nodded, "it's what I heard."
"Kenneth, I know; it feels like someone has dropped a thousand tons on your head."
"It's a euphemism," the man replied, clutching his hands together.
Monday confirmed the nightmare Kenneth dreaded while he watched her sleep. Of all the scenarios, this was the worst for the man.
"What are you going to do?" Kenneth asked.
"I want to know what you want."
"Me," Kenneth shrugged, "I can't say much. It's your body."
Monday's eyes darted as she tried to interpret the words between his lines, "but it's our baby," she blurted.
"Ours," Kenneth repeated and blew out his breath. Why was the room so hot?
Monday watched the freckles erupt on Kenneth's with angst. Kenneth's mind broke the sound barrier as it tried to fit the pieces together.
What sordid twist of fate was this?
They were living their best romance chapter ever, and in came the spermatozoid antagonist to wreck it all.
"Kenneth, I know it's sudden. I was shocked."
"Since when do you know?"
"It's been a month already," Monday replied solemnly.
"One month, you waited a month to tell me?" Kenneth exclaimed.
"I didn't know how you would react; I didn't think of telling you at first. I
ㅡ," Monday lowered her gaze.
She realized Kenneth was right when he said it was her body. She was going to make an arbitrary decision without him.
Why did she want his approval now?
The reason was simple. Kenneth was an essential piece of her love puzzle. She didn't want to lose him.
"What do you want to do, Monday?"
Monday looked up, "I want to keep it. I want to keep you and us."
"Okay," Kenneth said and got up.
Monday did the same and grasped his hands. "Is it okay?" she asked, trying to capture his stare.
"It's okay, Monday." The tone was cold, just as Kenneth's stare screamed betrayal.
"Kenneth, I don't want to force you. I just want a sincere answer."
A corner smile formed as he repeated, "Sincere? You want me to be sincere. One of these days, my diagnosis could change. ㅡDo you know that it's hereditary in eighty percent of the cases." Kenneth pointed at her stomach. "ㅡWhich means you're willing to take that risk? Have you sincerely weighed the question? For I sincerely doubt it because if you sincerely did, you wouldn't be asking me to adhere to this."
The man's incisive and vindicative words chopped Monday's air supply as she muttered, "Kenneth, please."
A single tear rolled down Monday's cheek. She knew it; why did she let Luce enroll her into thinking Kenneth would be happy?
"I love you, Kenneth. I believe God never does something without a reason."
"Come on, Monday, which God? Don't tell me you believe in the speculative hypothesis of a greater being. When you have someone like me with twenty-five years of psychoanalysis for a mental disorder in front of you."
Monday avoided throwing out the ready-made sentence; perhaps you don't have enough faith like Devot, as she too lacked in belief.
She was asking too much. Kenneth had gone ahead of himself concerning their relationship. He brought her home, presented her to friends, made time, and played the part of the charming and romantic lover.
How could she dare ask for more?
Especially this, a baby. He couldn't have one. It wasn't possible. When and how did it happen?
The image came as soon as he conjured the questions. Kenneth was sure it occurred that night when he told Monday about his condition. They slept together, but it was no ordinary lovemaking. Every orgasm was something else. Yes, it was indeed that night when he realized he could no longer live without her that they conceived the child.
Yet there, the man was ready to let go. Fear had a better hand, and Kenneth surrendered to it.
"Kenneth?"
"You have all the rights over this child. It's your baby. As itsㅡ," Kenneth cleared his throat, "as its mother, you can do what you see fit."
"Kenneth, please don't push me away."
"I'm not pushing you away. I'm pulling away, it's different."
Monday let go of his hands. She had prepared herself for this, but she realized she could have prepped for a decade; nothing would have done the trick.
"Do you want me to leave?" She asked.
"No."
Monday nodded and swiped a few tears away. "Do you want me to stay?"
"Do you want to?" Kenneth returned.
"Kenneth, please just say what you want."
"I think I need to be alone," Kenneth said.
"Thank you for your sincerity."
Monday began to get dressed. Kenneth didn't budge. He watched her arrange her belongings and followed her as she walked to the door. Monday stopped before grasping the doorknob. Hoping Kenneth would attempt to hold her back as he did at the Maison Souquet in Paris.
She turned to face him one last time, "I hate you." Monday opened the door and left Kenneth to whisper, "I love you," once the door slammed shut.
The time had come for the unhappy twist. Not all books ended happily, and it wasn't because they did that they were worthwhile; Monday knew it. She took a risk and wished to bet on the love. There, the sentiment, though true, wasn't enough.
Monday cried down the forty floors.
"Goodbye, madame."
Monday didn't acknowledge the doorman. She hurried to hail a taxi, "To the airport, please."
She knew from the start that their story wouldn't work. Her relationship with Kenneth was a certified failure from the moment they spent their first night together. They were supposed to be passers-by.
Why on earth did they think they could outplay the cosmos?
Monday hated herself. She didn't protect her heart enough, and somehow, she always got hurt. She despised herself for naively thinking love could conquer all. Love couldn't erase Kenneth's concerns and give any warranties.
In the taxi for the first time in years, Monday prayed for guidance and discernment. Like most people, it was in a moment of dire straits she asked for help.
No words were needed when Monday arrived home on Saturday morning. Luce didn't dare speak. Monday looked as though she had mourned a thousand deaths. Luce immediately spread her arms to grasp Monday, who cried, "I ruined it, Luce. I ruined everything."
They were two to dance, but only one assumed and accepted reality.
On his side, Kenneth stood at his window. It was 1 AM. The world was still, and so was his mind. The man tried to dissolve their discussion but remained restless; sleep refused to grace him.
Kenneth had made a decision there was no use going back on it.
Life goes on... who was he kidding?
Kenneth wondered if Monday was still in New York. He hoped she was safe; correction: He hoped they were safe. Not wanting a child didn't mean Kenneth wished harm upon it. Despite what he expressed and Monday interpreted, he wasn't angry. It was that firsthand reactionㅡeveryone had one, didn't they? Didn't they? Kenneth asked himself.
It was late, but still, he called.
Bradley had to wipe his eyes multiple times before seizing that his boss was calling.
"Hello, Brad. Did you book Monday's flights?"
"No."
"Did she tell you when she was leaving?" Kenneth asked.
Brad cleared his throat, "She took open flight tickets. Why is something the matter?"
"Eh, Monday, left. She's pregnant, and I don't know where she is."
Brad sat up. " Do you want me to call the airports?" he asked, feeling the urgency of the matter.
"Yes, can you do that?"
"Bradley," Kenneth heard in the background. It was a woman's voice. Probably Brad's fiancée's. Kenneth could only imagine how pissed she was, but for once, he was going to be that selfish boss.
"Okay, Kenneth, I'll keep you posted."
Kenneth hung up, and Brad jumped out of bed and started his computer.
"Brad, don't tell me you're working."
"I have to. Kenneth is living a crisis."
"Well, let him live it."
"I can't," Brad replied while entering his password.
"Why?"
"Because it's my job, and he pays me a fortune," Brad said.
Kenneth paid Brad well, but he never abused his assistant. It was the first time that Kenneth called him at such an hour.
No, his boss wasn't the type of man to expose his private life. The fact that Kenneth told Brad Monday was pregnant expressed two things: how desperate he was and the trust he had in his assistant.
Bradley's fiancée fell back on the bed. There was no stopping her man when he was fired up. She couldn't complain much. Brad had a top-tier salary, fetching the 5.3k a month just to run behind Kenneth and play the human agenda.
The call with Brad didn't relieve Kenneth. He paced like a lion in a cage in front of his window. He used all the fidgeting stances in the book and invented a few of his own. Morning dawned with Kenneth closing the blinds, standing in total darkness with one conclusion: He loved Monday, but he couldn't become a father. Kenneth had years to weigh the question. He wasn't fit to be one.
One can make time, but again, one has to want to do it. Kenneth didn't want his time spent changing diapers, and above all, he didn't desire for Monday to be a prisoner of this child. The life coach didn't see the part where the baby, his baby, would be a life changer.
All he saw was how preoccupied Monday would be for the next eighteen years or how she would curse him if ever the child had a mental impairment similar to his.
Monday went for the deal breaker. As much as he loved her, as intelligent as he estimated himself, Kenneth played the idiot and refused to consider being in the picture and endorsing the dad suit.
Nine months in a relationship wasn't enough time to make a life-altering commitment. Kenneth didn't hope Monday would come to her senses; he just wished she would consider and respect his choice to step away.
A few days passed, and Kenneth acted as though nothing happened. He worked, talked, and worked some more. His routine never seemed as reassuring as it did then. On her side, Monday still had two months and a half to think about her options while knowing she wouldn't change her mind.
She wasn't ready, but who on earth was prepared for parenthood?