Contract Marriage: I Will Never Love You

Sarah

I wake up with my stomach in knots, a sour taste coating my mouth.

Something’s off.

I look to my side and see that it’s empty. Matthew must’ve gotten up before me and left the room.

The nausea surges again, a hot wave rising from my gut to my throat. I kick off the sheets and stumble toward the bathroom.

I barely make it to the toilet before everything comes up. I haven’t even eaten breakfast yet, so it’s mostly bile and last night’s dinner. My knees dig into the bathroom mat, fingers gripping the toilet seat so hard they turn white.

I groan. My eyes water and my nose runs. I feel disgusting.

When the retching finally stops, I sit back on my heels. That’s when it hits me.

I might be pregnant.

I try to count back the days since my last period, but my mind feels fuzzy, uncooperative. It’s been... what? Five weeks? Six? I’ve never been good at tracking, always a little irregular anyway. But definitely late. Definitely not normal.

"Oh god," I mutter, flushing the toilet and dragging myself to the sink. My reflection looks like a stranger—pale lips, dark circles under my eyes, hair stuck to my forehead. I splash cold water on my face, trying to wash away both the sick feeling and the growing certainty in my gut.