Chapter 2

The next morning, I packed a small bag. Essentials only.

My hands were shaking, but my mind was clear.

I had to face Ethan one last time, to tell him about the grant, to make my departure seem planned, professional.

Not the desperate flight it truly was.

I found him in his home office, Isabella perched on the edge of his desk, laughing at something he said.

They looked like a power couple. Perfect.

My stomach twisted.

"Ethan?"

He looked up, his expression guarded. Isabella' s smile faltered for a second.

"Ava. Good morning." His voice was cool, distant.

"I, um, I wanted to tell you. I' ve been awarded the Alaskan documentary grant. Professor Davies thinks it' s a great opportunity."

He raised an eyebrow. "Alaska? That's… sudden."

"Not really. I applied a while ago. The confirmation just came through." I kept my voice even.

Isabella watched me, her eyes like chips of ice.

"Well, congratulations," Ethan said, but there was no warmth in it. "Isabella and I were just discussing our trip to Aspen. We're thinking of making it official. A more permanent arrangement."

He looked at Isabella, a soft expression on his face. She preened.

My carefully constructed composure almost cracked.

Permanent arrangement. He was choosing her. After a night he didn't even remember was with me.

The pain was a fresh stab.

"That's… nice," I managed. "I'll be leaving at the end of the week then. For Alaska."

Ethan frowned. "So soon? Are you sure you' re alright, Ava? You seem… different."

Different? I' m shattered. You broke me.

"I'm fine," I said, forcing a smile. "Just excited about the project."

He nodded, but his eyes were searching. Did he suspect something?

No. He was just being Ethan. Overprotective. Oblivious.

"Alaska is no joke, Ava. It's dangerous."

"I'll be careful."

"Liam Johnson, a very capable cinematographer, is assigned to the project as well. He has experience in extreme environments," I added, hoping it would reassure him, make him back off.

Ethan' s jaw tightened slightly at the mention of another man' s name.

A flicker of his old possessiveness. Or maybe I imagined it.

"Right," he said curtly. "Well, keep me updated. For your parents' sake."

The familiar guilt trip. It barely registered this time.

I nodded, turned, and walked away before my composure completely crumbled.

Back in the guest house, the silence was suffocating.

My period was now definitively late. Two weeks.

The test I' d bought yesterday sat on the bathroom counter, unopened.

I couldn' t bring myself to look at it.

Not yet.

Knowing for sure… it would make everything too real.

My decision to go to Alaska was firm. If I was pregnant, I would deal with it there. Alone.

This child, if it existed, would be mine. Only mine.

Ethan would have his perfect life with Isabella. He would never know.

It was a bitter thought, but it was the only way.

I couldn' t bear the thought of him knowing, of the pity in his eyes, or worse, the obligation.

I wouldn't be a scandal, a burden.

The faint hope I'd briefly entertained after that night – that he might remember, that it might mean something – was dead.

Isabella had killed it. Ethan' s easy acceptance of her story had buried it.

The next few days were a blur of preparations.

Booking flights, coordinating with Liam Johnson via email, packing equipment.

I avoided the main house as much as possible.

Ethan was busy with Isabella, planning their future. I saw her car there constantly.

Once, I caught a glimpse of them in the garden, laughing, holding hands.

It was like watching a scene from a movie, a life I was no longer part of.

The unopened pregnancy test still sat on my counter. A silent accusation.

On the eve of my departure, I finally picked it up.

My hands trembled as I followed the instructions.

Minutes stretched into an eternity.

Two pink lines.

Pregnant.

There was no shock, no surprise. Just a dull, heavy certainty.

Ethan' s child.

A child conceived in a moment of drugged vulnerability and desperate longing.

A child he would never know.

Tears welled up, hot and fast. I didn't fight them.

I sank to the bathroom floor, the test clutched in my hand, and wept.

For the baby. For myself. For the love I had to leave behind.

The pain was immense, a raw, gaping wound.

But beneath the pain, the resolve I' d found earlier hardened further.

This child was a part of me. A part of him I would carry.

But I would do it on my own terms.

Alaska wasn't just an escape anymore. It was a sanctuary.

My last morning. My bags were by the door.

A taxi was scheduled to pick me up.

I took one last look around the guest house. It had been my home for five years.

A beautiful, gilded cage.

I left the key on the small table by the door.

No note. No goodbye.

He' d made his choice. I was making mine.

As I stepped out, I saw Ethan walking across the lawn from the main house.

My heart leaped. He was coming towards me.

For a wild moment, I thought he knew. That he' d come to stop me.

But his expression was neutral, almost businesslike.

"Ava. Your taxi is here."

He gestured to the car waiting at the end of the drive.

"I know," I said, my voice flat.

"I' ve arranged for a direct transfer to your Alaskan account. For project expenses, and… contingencies."

He handed me an envelope.

"Thank you, Ethan. That's very generous."

"It's what your parents would have wanted."

Always back to them. To my obligation. To his.

An awkward silence hung between us.

"Well," he said finally. "Be safe."

"I will."

He didn't hug me. Didn't even touch my arm.

Just a nod. Then he turned and walked back towards the main house, where Isabella was probably waiting with his coffee.

I watched him go, a final, aching pang in my chest.

Then I got in the taxi, and didn' t look back.

The pregnancy was my secret. My burden. My strength.

Alaska waited.