Chapter 4: No Where else but down
Sophie’s Point of View
The fifth rejection this week stung like the first.
“I’m sorry, Miss Peterson, but you’ve been out of the system for too long. We need someone with more current experience. Best of luck.”
Those words echoed in my ears as I stepped out of the sterile office building, the weight of my reality pressing down on me. My lips parted to argue, to plead, to explain how fast I could learn, how desperate I was but I already knew it was pointless. They didn’t care about my potential. They cared about the gap in my résumé, the four years I’d spent building Ethan’s life while letting mine crumble in the background.
The Manhattan streets were buzzing with life, but to me, they felt suffocating. Everywhere I turned, I saw people who seemed to have it all together, men in tailored suits, women in designer heels, mothers pushing strollers with smiles plastered on their faces. And here I was, broke, jobless, and drifting aimlessly.
I wrapped my coat tighter around me as a chilly gust of wind bit through my thin sweater. The last of my savings had gone toward securing a tiny studio apartment for three months and stocking up on cheap groceries. If I didn’t land a job soon, I wouldn’t even have a roof over my head, let alone food to eat.
“This is your fault,” I whispered bitterly to myself, my voice lost in the cacophony of the city. “You should’ve seen the signs. The Cold nights he didn't return, the snaps at every little mistakes you make, You should’ve left Ethan before he ruined you.”
But wallowing wasn’t going to fix anything. I straightened my shoulders, inhaled deeply, and forced one foot in front of the other.
The dizziness hit me before I’d made it half a block.
It wasn’t the first time. For days now, I’d felt lightheaded and nauseous, but I’d chalked it up to stress and lack of sleep. After all, I couldn’t afford to fall apart. Not now.
“Just keep walking,” I muttered under my breath. “You’re fine. You’ve got this.”
But as I stepped off the curb, the world tilted sharply, and my legs buckled beneath me. The last thing I remembered was the blaring sound of a car horn and the cold, hard pavement rushing up to meet me.
I woke up to the sterile smell of disinfectant and the soft beeping of a monitor. Blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights, I turned my head and saw a nurse adjusting an IV bag.
“Where… where am I?” My voice was hoarse, barely audible.
“You’re in St. Luke’s Hospital,” she replied kindly. “You passed out on the street. Someone called an ambulance.”
The fog in my brain began to clear, and with it came a flood of questions. “What happened to me? Am I sick?”
The nurse hesitated for a moment before offering me a small smile. “The doctor will explain everything shortly. For now, just rest.”
Rest? Rest was a luxury I couldn’t afford. But before I could argue, the door swung open, and a middle-aged man in a white coat entered, clipboard in hand.
“Miss Peterson,” he greeted, his tone professional but warm. “I’m Dr. Harris. How are you feeling?”
“Dizzy,” I admitted. “But mostly confused. What’s wrong with me?”
Dr. Harris pulled up a chair beside the bed, his expression gentle but serious. “You’re dehydrated and malnourished, which likely contributed to your fainting. But there’s something else we discovered during our tests.”
I gripped the edges of the blanket, my heart pounding. “What is it?”
“You’re pregnant, Miss Peterson. Approximately six weeks along.”
The words hit me like a thunderclap. I stared at him, unblinking, my mind scrambling to process what he’d just said.
“Pregnant?” I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Yes,” he confirmed. “Your vitals are stable now, but you’ll need to take better care of yourself moving forward, for your sake and the baby’s.”
The baby.
Ethan hadn’t touched me in over six months. The realization hit me like a tidal wave, dragging me under its cold, unrelenting current. There was only one possibility. Lucas.
My stomach churned as memories of that night resurfaced, the way he’d looked at me, the way he’d held me. I had no one to blame but myself for that lapse in judgment, but this? This was something I never could’ve anticipated.
Dr. Harris’s voice pulled me back to the present. “Do you have someone who can support you during your pregnancy? A partner or family member?”
I shook my head numbly. “No. There’s no one.”
He gave me a sympathetic look before handing me a small booklet. “Here’s some information to get you started. And please, don’t hesitate to reach out if you have any questions or concerns.”
By the time I was discharged from the hospital, my emotions were a tangled mess of fear, anger, and something I couldn’t quite place. I wandered the streets aimlessly, the crisp autumn air biting at my cheeks.
Ethan’s words played on a loop in my mind: “Deceptive bitch.” He’d thrown me out, humiliated me, called me a liar, all while Veronica stood by his side, smug and triumphant. And now I held the evidence to his lies, his accusations, his cruelty, all of it had been built on lies.
I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. He had painted me as the villain, but I wasn’t the one who had lied. I wasn’t the one who had cheated. And I damn sure wasn’t going to let him get away with denting my image before mutual family and friends.
.
A cab pulled up beside me, the driver rolling down the window. “Need a ride, miss?”
For a moment, I hesitated. But then I nodded, opening the door and sliding into the backseat.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
I gave him Ethan’s address, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me.
As the cab weaved through the bustling streets of Manhattan, I stared out the window, my reflection a haunting reminder of the woman I used to be. Four years ago, I was full of hope and ambition, ready to take on the world. Ethan had taken that from me, piece by piece, until there was nothing left but a shell of the person I once was.
But not anymore.
This pregnancy might not have been part of the plan, but it was the wake-up call I needed. I wasn’t going to let Ethan or anyone else control my life anymore.
By the time the cab pulled up to his brownstone, my fear had morphed into something else entirely.
Anger.
Pure, unfiltered rage.
I stepped out of the cab, my chin held high and my fists clenched at my sides. Ethan might have thought he’d won, but he was about to learn just how wrong he was.
And this time, I wasn’t backing down.