Prologue

 She doesn't know what's about to hit her

No sooner had I started discussing the specifics of my client’s latest work that I felt a familiar sense of queasiness. My stomach began to regurgitate all sorts of tingly sensations, but my mind knew this was just the calm before the storm. A horrendous one I was slowly getting accustomed to.

Bruce, my client, offered for help, asking whether I was okay. I couldn’t force a single word out of my mouth, no matter how much I wanted to. I raised a hand in defense, trying to convey that I was okay. That this was just a phase. That I would survive this.

I felt the bile build up, felt my throat constrict in pain. I found myself clutching the leather armrest of my chair, choosing the darkness behind my eyes over the optimistic brightness of the day. My face had probably drained out of color, the blood somehow rushing to my brain, making me dizzy.

I suddenly covered my face with the palm of my hand and dashed out of my chair, excusing my client with a wave of hand. My feet carried me faster than I thought I could, the heels of my stilettos pronouncing a hurried series of ‘clanks’ all the way.

I finally pushed a door open, ran to the nearest sink, and spat out the remnants of an apple and a latte I had this morning for breakfast. Gripping the edges of the counter, my shoulders hunched and I drew out long sighs, praying this moment of torment to be over. Cleaning myself up, I fixed the pleats of my maroon top, brushing the non-existent dust off my black pencil skirt.

I ran my fingers through my straight hair, fixing the chestnut locks back into their place. I attempted at forming a confident smile to myself in the mirror. Despite the vivacious stroke of eyeliner and a bold shade of red lipstick, the bags under my eyes and the paleness of my olive-skinned face gnawed at me. The confidence wavered as the exhaustion wore on. 

“There you are. Are you okay?” My best friend and assistant barged in through the washroom door, her brows arched in concern, her golden locks of hair dancing in worry.

“I’m fine, Caroline.” I answered after taking a deep breath.

Her eyes scrutinized cynically as she waited for any unwanted jolts of surprises. 

“I told you, I’m fine.” I began to smile, wanting to ask her to relax just when I felt another jerk, this time in my lower abdomen. My face tried to maintain a sense of serenity despite the internal turmoil of pain as I clutched my belly, praying for it to go away.

“No you’re not.” She pointed out with a gasp, rushing to my side. 

Taking me to the nearest chair, she helped me lean against the wall as I let out short breaths, allowing the weariness to take over.

Grabbing a bottle of water, my best friend tilted it to my mouth while I took small sips, feeling the coolness soothe my insides.

“Thank you, Care. Water generally helps.” I murmured under my breath.

“It does when you’re on your period. Not when you’re pregnant, Elena.” Her voice held a tone of austerity.

“Hush.” I grabbed her hand tersely, worried someone had heard her.

“You can go on denying the truth, but it’s not going to change.” She reprimanded with a roll of eyes.

“I’m not denying it. I’m just...hiding it. For the time being.” I whispered guiltily, lowering my lids to my fidgeting hands.

“You know that’s not going to work for long, Elena. Why are you even doing this?” She huffed in exasperation.

“Well, what would people say about a Content Editor revealing her pregnancy days after her boyfriend flees?! Who is going to rely on an editor for business who’s soon to be a single mom?!” I lashed out annoyedly as tears sprung to life, “How will I ever save my job with this burden I’m carrying?”

I rubbed my forehead with my hand, trying to be surreptitious about the cascade of tears that threatened to spill.

Caroline immediately crouched beside me, her voice softer than a whisper, “You know that’s not true, Elena. You love this baby.”

“What if the baby hates me? I’m just twenty-four, for God’s sake. How am I supposed to take care of a child?” I started to sob frantically.

Stupid hormones. Always at the wrong time. 

“You’re the kindest, most giving person I’ve ever met. You care about everyone, sometimes a little too much. This baby is gonna love you. You just need to take care of yourself.”

I nodded amidst sniffles, “I am. I won’t let anything happen to the baby. Not this time.”

She cast a pointed look, her eyebrows reaching the edge of her hairline in sarcasm as I looked away in embarrassment.

“You’re taking up more work than you should--.”

“It’s for the company.”

“You’re doing all that household work by yourself.”

“Perks of living alone.”

“And you’re not resting enough.”

“I’m getting five hours of sleep. That’s all I need.” I shrugged as she tilted her head, wearing an incredulous expression. 

“Really?

“It’s nothing I wasn’t doing before, Care.” I clarified.

“It is, Elena. You know you’ve overburdened yourself with work because--”

“I don’t want to hear it.” I knew what she was going to say. Sometimes I forgot she wasn’t just my assistant, but my best friend too.

Her shoulders sagged and her eyes turned sympathetic, “Please just listen to me, one last time.”

I turned towards her warily, very well knowing what she was about to propose, “Caroline, I’m not--”

“At least, let me put up your profile. Matches aren’t guaranteed, you know.”

Her skills of persuasion were getting better by the day. I rubbed my forehead in pent up frustration before recalling, “What was the name of the website again?”

Caroline jumped excitedly, “It’s called FindMyBabyMate.com. You basically set up your profile, your contact details, a picture of yourself, insurance documents, et cetera. People who wish to take part in this noble social service to single moms can set up their account as volunteers. Those who’ll be interested in your profile will ‘Baby Star’ you and the website will let you know. It’s an eight-month contract, and they’re pretty serious about rules and omissions, so it’s quite reliable.”

I stared at her dubiously as she finished her monologue, “You sure they’re not commissioning you to promote this?”

She rolled her eyes and feigned annoyance, “I did my research and can assure you that this is the best thing to help you, Elena.”

I pondered upon the idea for a moment, “A Babymate?”

“It’s like a housemate, only they’re here to take care of you and your baby.” She giggled. “Isn’t it amazing?”

“And how do I know the volunteer won’t mess anything up?”

“They’ve got an eligibility criteria for all volunteers. The website won’t let any random dumbo put their profile up.” She explained.

Caroline waited with bated breaths as I pursed my lips in thought. This was unnecessary, I could totally take care of myself. But I knew my best friend wouldn’t relent until she got her way. Persistence was one of her strengths, and she had been ranting about this for the past three weeks now.

I huffed a sigh before giving in, “Okay fine…”

“I knew you’d agree.” She jumped in glee as she slid her phone out of her back pocket of her denims. Opening up her latest Safari tab to a vibrant colored page my eyes widened and I shrieked, “You created a profile already?!”

“Not entirely…”She muttered guiltily before elaborating, “I’ve got all your documents and descriptions in, just wanted you to give a final check before I publish it.”

“Wow, you’ve truly validated my role as an editor.” I grimaced before taking her phone. 

She chuckled in response, waiting for me to read through all the description boxes. While everything else seemed fine, if not sugar coated with Caroline sweetness already, there were two aspects that made me shudder.

“Do you have to put up a profile picture?” I asked nervously.

“Not really, though it helps for volunteers to understand you better.”

“I can’t, Caroline. I can’t let people know that I...not yet.” I pleaded and she passed an understanding nod.

“So I take it you don’t want to use your name either.” She suggested.

“Change it to Meredith Bancroft.”

“Who’s that?” She asked while typing.

A rueful smile inched across my face as I reminisced, “An old habit that refuses to die.”