My husband cheated on me in front of everyone. I «got revenge»! I spent the night with a homeless guy… And got pregnant… But when I went for the abortion, I froze at what I saw….

Arthur sat at the desk in a white coat with neatly combed hair and an attentive gaze. He looked up from the medical history and froze for a second, recognizing me. «Emily,» he said quietly.

I couldn’t move. Out of all the doctors in the city, out of all the clinics, it had to be him terminating my pregnancy. A pregnancy that could be from him.

«Sit down,» Arthur said, pointing to the chair across the desk. I sat, clutching my bag. The office was very quiet.

Only the ticking of the wall clock and distant street noise. «Are you sure about your decision?» he asked, flipping through my chart. «Yes,» I answered, but my voice trembled.

Arthur set the chart aside and looked at me. There was no judgment or surprise in his eyes, only sadness. «Let me tell you a story,» he said.

In October, that evening we met, I was burying my father. He died of cancer, suffered for half a year. The wake was at that club because Dad loved to dance, and Grand was his favorite spot.

I listened, not understanding where he was going. «After the wake, I got drunk for the first time in my life,» Arthur continued. Couldn’t bear the thought that he was gone.

The guards threw me out on the street, and I thought I’d just lie there in the dirt. Then you appeared. He paused, looking out the window.

«You saved me that night not just from the cold, from despair. And now…» «Now what?» I asked. «Now I have to kill what could be our child.» The word «our» hung in the air between us….

We both understood there was that possibility. «This isn’t your problem,» I said. «I have a complicated situation at home. I can’t…» «You can,» he interrupted.

«You’re just afraid.» Tears welled up in my throat. He was right.

I was afraid of being alone, afraid of judgment, afraid of responsibility. «My husband is cheating on me,» I blurted out. «He’s planning to leave for someone else. I don’t know who this baby is from.»

«And so you decided to kill it?» Arthur asked calmly. «Don’t say it like that,» I sobbed. «How else?» he got up from the desk.

«Emily, I won’t talk you out of it if you really want this. But answer honestly. Did you come here because you don’t want the child or because you’re afraid of the difficulties?» I was silent, wiping tears.

«Think about it again,» Arthur said. «You have until tomorrow. If your decision doesn’t change, come back, I’ll do everything properly.»

I stood and went to the door, but he stopped me. «Emily, whatever you decide, you’re not alone. Remember that.»

I ran out of the office and only on the street realized I’d forgotten to take the ultrasound referral. It was on Arthur’s desk. A gray slip with a blurry image of a tiny being the size of a bean.

That evening, I found that picture in the trash bin by the building entrance. John wasn’t home, he was late with suppliers. I smoothed out the crumpled paper and stared at the barely visible outlines for a long time.

A heartbeat. At six weeks, the baby already has a heartbeat. But I didn’t sleep that night.

Lay in bed next to snoring John and stroked my belly, trying to feel something. Too early, but it seemed like I felt a light flutter inside. By morning, the decision came on its own…