<h4>Chapter 92: Unexpected News</h4>


    Henry Jackson’s smooth gray sedan glided through the afternoon traffic like a shadow slipping between beams of light. Skyscrapers loomed on either side, their ss facades catching the sun and tossing it back in fractured shards. Inside, the city noise dulled to a distant hum, swallowed by leather seats and the low purr of the engine.


    Eliana Bet sat curled in the passenger seat, her hoodie zipped tight though it did little against the chill that had settled in her bones. Her fingers fidgeted restlessly in herp, twisting the frayed hem as though it might anchor her spiraling thoughts.


    Henry hands rested steady on the wheel, long fingers tapping lightly against the leather. Every few blocks he cut her a sidelong nce, his sharp profile softened by concern. He’d always had that look—back in college, when she was pulling all-nighters in the library and he’d show up with coffee and a lopsided grin.


    "Eliana, we’re almost there," he said, voice low, carrying the same warmth as the chamomile tea he’d made her earlier that morning. "My family’s hospital isn’t far. No red tape, no endless waiting rooms. Straight to the right people, straight to the care you need."


    Her lips parted, hesitant. "Henry, I... I don’t know. This feels like too much. I’m probably just tired. We could turn back—"


    He shook his head, his tone firm but not unkind. "Not happening. You nearly copsed back at my apartment. I’m your friend—and a soon-to-be doctor. I’d be breaking every rule in the book if I let you brush this off. Besides," he added, sparing her a nce, "your dad’s already on his way there. Marcus confirmed it. The transfer’s in motion. He’ll be in the best hands too."


    Her chest tightened at the mention of her father. The memory rose unbidden: his thin frame swallowed by sterile white sheets, the dimming spark in the eyes that once lit up her entire world. She swallowed hard, blinking against the burn behind her eyes.


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    "Papa..." Her voice wavered. Then softer, almost ashamed: "Thank you, Henry. Really. But I hate feeling like a burden."


    "You’re not a burden," he replied, reaching over to give her hand a quick squeeze before returning it to the wheel. "You’re Eliana—the girl who always lit up my day every time I set my eyes on you. Remember that time at Jason’s when you dragged me onto the floor for that ridiculous line dance? I stepped on your toes twice, and you justughed it off. You have always been so kind and nice to me. Let me do this for you, please."


    A faint chuckle escaped her, the memory a brief flicker of light in her storm-clouded mind. "Yeah, well, you weren’t half bad once you stopped thinking so hard about it. Also, I didn’t do anything out of the ordinary, Henry. But if this means so much to you, fine. I’ll stop being stubborn."


    The car pulled up to a gleaming modern building, its facade a blend of ss and steel that screamed quiet luxury. "Jackson Memorial Clinic," the sign read, though it felt more like a high-end spa than a hospital. Henry parked in a reserved spot near the entrance, then hurried around to help her out, his arm steady around her waist as she swayed slightly on her feet.


    "Easy there," he murmured, his warm eyes scanning her face. "I’ve got you."


    Inside, the lobby was a far cry from the crowded, fluorescent-lit hospitals Eliana knew. Polished marble floors reflected the soft glow of chandeliers, and the air smelled faintly ofvender rather than antiseptic. A receptionist in a crisp uniform looked up with a professional smile. "Mr. Jackson, good to see you. And this must be Miss Bet?"


    Henry nodded. "Yes, Sarah. We’re here for a full check-up. Priority, please. And my father’s already cleared the transfer for Frank Bet—he should be arriving soon."


    "Of course," Sarah replied efficiently, tapping at her keyboard. "Dr. Ellis is ready in Suite 3. Right this way."


    They were whisked down a hallway lined with abstract art and plush seating areas. Eliana leaned on Henry’s arm, her legs still shaky, her mind racing with a whirlwind of fears—about Rafael, about Mirabel, about her father, about the life she’d fled from just hours ago. The suite was spacious, with arge exam table, state-of-the-art equipment, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a manicured garden.


    Dr. Ellis, a middle-aged woman with a no-nonsense bob and kind eyes behind wire-rimmed sses, greeted them warmly. "Henry, always a pleasure. And you must be Eliana. Let’s get you settled. From what Henry described on the phone, we’ll start with vitals, blood work, and a quick ultrasound if needed. Sound good?"


    Eliana nodded weakly, perching on the exam table as a nurse bustled in to draw blood and take her blood pressure. Henry hovered nearby, his athletic frame leaning against the wall, arms crossed in a pose that screamed protective concern. "You’ll be fine," he whispered to her. "This ce is top-notch. My family’s poured everything into it."


    Thirty minutes ticked by in a blur of quiet efficiency—far faster than any public hospital wait. Eliana fidgeted with the edge of her paper gown, her curly hair falling over her shoulders like a protective veil. Henry paced subtly, checking his phone for updates on Frank’s transfer. "He’s en route," he said atst, pocketing the device. "Should be here within the hour. No traces back to Rafael’s setup—clean as a whistle."


    Before Eliana could respond, Dr. Ellis returned, clipboard in hand, her expression neutral but with a hint of something unreadable. "Eliana, Henry—results are in. Everything looks stable overall—no major issues with your vitals. But there’s one thing we need to discuss."


    Eliana’s heart pounded, her big eyes widening as Henry instinctively moved to her side, taking her hand in his. His grip was warm, steady, grounding her as she felt another wave of dizziness threaten. "What is it, Doctor?" she asked, her voiceing out small.


    Dr. Ellis sat on a stool, facing them directly. "Eliana, based on the blood work and your symptoms—dizziness, nausea, fatigue—you’re pregnant. About three weeks along, by our estimates. Congrattions, if that’s the right word here. We’ll need to schedule follow-ups, prenatal care..."


    The words hung in the air like a thunderp. Eliana’s world tilted, her full lips parting in shock, but no sound came out. Pregnant? Three weeks? Her mind nked, the room’s soft beeps and hums fading into white noise. Henry’s hand tightened around hers, his warm eyes flickering with a storm of emotions she couldn’t yet decipher.


    Dr. Ellis gave them a moment, then stood. "I’ll give you two some privacy. If you have questions, buzz the nurse." She slipped out quietly, the door clicking shut behind her.


    For a long, suspended second, Eliana stared at the wall, her slender frame frozen. Then, like a dam bursting, the panic hit. She yanked her hand free, her breathing in short, ragged gasps. "No... no, this can’t be happening. Pregnant? Me? Oh God, Henry, what am I going to do?"


    Henry turned to her fully, his sharp features etched with worry as he gently grasped her shoulders. "Eliana, hey—breathe. In and out, like this." He demonstrated, his voice calm despite the ache twisting in his chest. Hearing those words—pregnant—had shattered something inside him, a quiet dream he’d harbored since he reunited with Eliana crumbling to dust. But he buried it deep, focusing on her, on being the rock she needed.


    She shook her head wildly, tears spilling down her warm brown cheeks. "I can’t be pregnant! Not now! I have so many problems—Papa’s sick, Rafael’s... everything with him is a mess. And now a baby? A baby in the mix? How am I supposed to handle this? I can barely keep myself together!"


    Her voice rose, echoing in the pristine room, her expressive eyes wild with fear. She clutched at her stomach instinctively, as if the tiny life there was both a miracle and a curse. Henry pulled her into his arms without hesitation, his tall frame enveloping her slender one. "Shh, it’s okay. You’re not alone in this. Panic won’t help—let’s talk it through. You’ve got this strength in you, Eliana. I’ve seen it."


    She sobbed against his chest, her body trembling. "But how? A baby means... everything changes. I wasn’t ready for this. None of it!"


    He stroked her curly hair soothingly, his own heart breaking silently. The woman he’d loved from afar, pregnant with another man’s child—it stung like salt in a wound. But love, he reminded himself, wasn’t about possession. It was about support. "First things first—who’s the father?" he asked softly, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze.


    Eliana sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Rafael. It’s Rafael’s. Without a doubt. We... we were together, but..."


    Henry nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Okay. And you two—are you dating? Like, officially?"


    She hesitated, her soft heart-shaped face flushing with confusion. "I... I don’t know, Henry. What we have—had—it’splicated. He’s cold one minute, tender the next. We weren’t exactlybeling it. But now... oh God, now there’s a child."


    Her panic surged again, and she paced the small space, her worn sneakers squeaking on the tile. "I have to go back to him. Tell him about the baby. But if I do, that’s it—our rtionship will never end. He’ll keep me with him there forever. Even though Rafael isn’t bad, my secrets would turn me into his enemy. When he finds out about Mirabel... that she’s my mother? He’ll resent me, Henry. Worse, he might resent the baby. me it for trapping him or something. I can’t let that happen!"


    Henry’s eyes softened with empathy, though a flicker of his own pain shed through. He stepped forward, pulling her into another hug, his arms a safe harbor in the storm. "Eliana, calm down. Don’t jump to conclusions like that. Take a breath—deep one. Good. Now listen: with the baby in the picture, yeah, things change. It would be wrong to just disappear from Rafael’s life without a word. He deserves to know, and so does the child."


    She pulled back slightly, searching his face. "But how? What do I even say?"


    He cupped her cheek gently, his voice steady and wise beyond his years. "The best thing is to tell him the truth—all of it. Start with the big one: that you’re Mirabel’s daughter. Lay it out, no secrets. Then, tell him about the baby. Give him a chance to react honestly. Hiding it will only make everything worse down the line."


    Eliana’s eyes widened in shock, her mouth falling open as if he’d suggested jumping off a cliff. "What? Tell him everything? Henry, that’s... that’s insane! He’ll explode. Or worse, shut downpletely. You don’t know him like I do—he’s got walls higher than these skyscrapers."


    Henry chuckled softly, trying to inject a bit of levity into the heavy moment. "Hey, if he explodes, at least it’ll be dramatic—like one of those soap operas we used to mock in college. But seriously, Eliana, truth is the only way forward. You’ve been carrying these burdens alone for too long. Let it out, and see what happens. You’ve got me in your corner, no matter what."


    She stared at him, the shock lingering, her mind reeling at the audacity of his suggestion. The room felt smaller, the weight of the revtion pressing down, but in Henry’s embrace, a fragile seed of hope began to take root.


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