Heartbeat in the Static
The apartment was too quiet. That was the first thing she noticed after the second pink line appeared.
Too quiet.
The bathroom light buzzed faintly overhead while her fingers trembled around the plastic test. She stared at it so long the words almost stopped looking real.
Pregnant.
Her stomach twisted violently, "No" she whispered instantly.Nogt because she didn't want it. That was the problem. She sank into the closed toilet lid, staring at the wall while her heartbeat thudded painfully in her ears.
Pregnant...with his baby.
A shaky laugh escaped her before her hand covered her mouth. "oh my God..." her eyes burned immediately.
Marshall and her barely survived regular life together some days. His career was chaos, their relationship was chaos. And yet- her hand drifted unconsciously to her stomach. something inside her softened instantly, then reality came crashing back.
She stood abruptly pacing the bedroom.
Then the kitchen.
Then back again.
She checked the clock every three minutes.
7:42 PM
8:06 PM
8:31 PM
Her thoughts spiraled harder every second. How do you even say something like that?
"Hey by the way our lives are about to explode" She tried rehearsing it out loud.
"Marshall, I need to tell you something."
Too formal.
"Im pregnant."
Too blunt.
"We're having a baby."
That one made tears sting in her eyes. She sat at the edge of the couch and buried her face I her hands. By the time she heard his keys in the lock, her nerves were shredded raw.
The door opened...
Marshall stepped inside mid conversation with someone on the phone, "Nah, tell him I'll redo the verse tomorrow, I'm not-" He stooped the second he saw her face; his expression changed immediately.The phone lowered slowly from his ear, "I gotta call you back."
Click.
Silence.
"you okay?"
She nodded too fast. "yeah"
His eyes narrowed instantly. "That was the worst lie I ever heard."
She laughed nervously, rubbing her hands together. "can you just...sit down for a second?"
Now he looked worried. Actually worried. "Why are you acting like somebody died?"
Her throat tightened.
He tossed his jacket onto the chair slowly, eyes never leaving her. "What happened?"
She opened her mouth but , nothing came out.
Marshalls voice sharpened "Baby, what happed?"
Her hands shook harder as she reached into her pocket. the test felt heavy enough to crush her. His eyes dropped to it instantly and for a second- he didn't understand.
Then he did.
The entire room changed, she watched it happen in real time. The confusion , the realization, then complete emotional shutdown.
Marshall took the test from her hand slowly. Too slowly. His face went blank in the way that scared her most.
No yelling
No reaction
Just...nothing
He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the test in silence.
One minute passed
Then two
Her chest tightened painfully. "Marshall..."
Nothing
"Please say something"
Still nothing
The silence became unbearable. He just kept staring at the test in bis hands like it was a bomb. She was crying now. "I can't do this if you don't talk to me."
His jaw flexed once. That was it.
She wrapped her arms around herself tightly. "okay, fine."
She turned and walked quickly into the bathroom, shutting the door harder than intended. The second the lock clicked she broke. tears spilled fast and hot while she pressed both hands against her mouth to muffle the sound.
Outside, the apartment stayed dead silent , no footsteps, no voice, nothing. That almost hurt worse. She slid down against the bathroom door, breathing shakily.
Minutes passed.
Maybe ten
Maybe twenty
She finally stood, wiping her face aggressively before unlocking the door. Marshall was exactly where she left him.
Sitting on the bed.
Still holding the test.
The sight made fresh tears rise instantly. She stared at him.
"If you're not going to say anything..." her voice shook.
"...then I don't know what im supposed to do right now"
Slowly-
Finally-
he placed the test beside him on the bed. Then he looked up at her. his eyes were overwhelmed, cornered and panicked.
"what do you want me to say?"
The words hit hard, she blinked at him.
"Anything"
He stood suddenly, running both hands over his face.
"We can't have this baby right now."
There it was, the sentence she had been dreading. Her entire body tensed and she shook her head once.
"I'm not getting rid of it."
Marshall stared at her, then laughed once in disbelief. "You're serious?"
"yes."
"Baby-"
"No"
Her voice cracked.
"I already know what you're going to say."
"Because it's true!" he exploded suddenly. "Look around us!"
She flinched.
He paced aggressively now, panic bleeding into anger.
"We fight every damn week-"
"That doesn't mean-"
"I can barely handle my own head half the time!"
"You think I don't know that?!"
"Then why are you acting like this is some fairytale?"
"It's not a fairytale!" She shouted back, tears spilling again. "Its a baby!"
Marshall cursed under his breath, tugging harshly at his hoodie strings. "You think this kid deserves this?"
The sentence cut deep. She shoved him hard in the chest before she could stop herself.
"Don't say that."
He stumbled back a step, shocked.
"Don't you dare say our baby is a mistake."
"Our baby?" he repeated incredulously. "You're talking like this is already happening!"
"It is happening!"
Her voice echoed through the apartment. Marshall looked like he was spiraling now, hands in his hair, pacing and breathing hard.
"You don't understand what this would do."
"No" she cried, "YOU don't understand!"
He looked at her sharply.
"I already love it." She said barely above a whisper.
That silenced him for half a second. And in that second, she saw fear hit him full force.
Real fear.
The kind that made him angry because he didn't know where else to put it.
"Jesus Christ", He muttered, turning away , running a hand over his mouth.
She grabbed his arm, he pulled away instantly. Not violent, just sharp. Frustrated.
"Stop," he snapped.
"No look at me!"
"I AM LOOKING AT YOU!"
His voice thundered through the room. they both froze after that, breathing hard , crying, destroyed.
Marshall pointed towards the bed angrily " You think love is enough for a kid?"
"I think we could figure it out!"
"With what?" he yelled. "Late night screaming matches and unstable schedules?!"
"At least it would be loved!"
"That's not always enough!"
The second those words left his mouth, regret flashes across his face. But it was too late.
Her expression shattered. "Wow..." she backed away slowly "...Okay"
"Baby I didn't mean-"
"No"
She shook her head, crying. "No, you know what? Forget it." She turned and walked quickly back towards the bathroom.
"Don't lock that damn door again," he warned, following after her.
She spun around instantly, "Then stop making me feel alone in this!"
That shut him up.
Her chest heaved painfully.
For one horrible second, they stared at each other. Two terrified people drowning differently. Then she stepped inside the bathroom and slammed the door. The lock clicked. Outside, silence.
Then suddenly-
CRASH.
Something hit the wall hard enough to make her jump. Not thrown at her, just rage with nowhere to go.
"Fuck!"
She squeezed her eyes shut as his footsteps paced outside.
Then quieter.
Then closer.
For a second, she thought he might say something, instead; all she heard was him grabbing his keys. The apartment door jerked open violently, then slammed shut hard enough to shake the bathroom mirror.
And just like that-
She was alone again.
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
The apartment was dark when Marshall finally came home.
4:07 AM
The city outside had gone quiet hours ago, the streets below washed silver from rain and old streetlights. His keys jingled softly in the lock before the front door creaked open.
For once-
he didn't slam it.
Marshall stepped inside slowly, shoulders tense beneath his grey hoodie, exhaustion written into every movement. The cold night air followed him in for a moment before the door shut behind him with a muted click.
Silence.
The kind that pressed against your chest. He stood there for a second just looking around the apartment. The lamp beside the couch was still on, the bathroom light was finally off, but everything else felt...empty. His jaw tightened, the fight replayed in his head instantly whether he wanted it to or not.
I already love it.
That sentence had been haunting him for hours. He dropped his keys onto the kitchen counter quietly this time, rubbing tired hands over his face before glancing toward the bedroom.
The door was halfway open, he walked toward it slowly and stopped in the doorway. She was asleep on top of the blankets, still in the same clothes from earlier, curled into herself with one hand tucked beneath her cheek. Her face looked swollen from crying.
That hit him harder than the screaming had. Marshall swallowed thickly, the room felt unbearably still as he looked at her.
Her mascara stains were still faintly visible beneath her eyes. The pregnancy test still sat on the bed beside her pillow like neither of them had been brave enough to move it.
He stared at it for a long moment.
Than at her.
Something twisted painfully in his chest. He felt bad.
God, he felt bad.
But underneath the guilt was still that stubborn fear crawling through him. The terrifying certainty that he was right. That bringing a baby into this mess would ruin everything.
Ruin her.
Ruin the kid.
Ruin whatever unstable thing the two of them had mange to build together.
Marshall sat carefully on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, looking down at his hands. His knuckles scraped raw. Probably from punching brick outside earlier. He barely remembered doing it.
His eyes drifted toward her again. She shifted in her sleep, brows tightening faintly like even unconsciousness couldn't fully escape the sadness.
For one dangerous second, he almost touched her. Almost brushed the hair out of her face.
Almost apologized.
Instead, he stood up and walked into the bathroom, because apologizing felt too close to giving in.
And giving in terrified him.
---
The next morning felt like walking through smoke.
She woke up alone.
The other side of the bed was empty and cold except for the slight dent in the mattress that told her he'd been there at some point. Her chest ached. She stared at the ceiling for a long time before finally sitting up.
The pregnancy test was gone.
That somehow hurt too.
Outside the bedroom, she heard cabinet doors opening and closing.
Marshall.
She swallowed hard before walking out, he was in the kitchen making coffee, movements mechanical, expression unreadable.
Neither of them spoke. Not even good morning.
The tension in the apartment was immediate. Heavy. Alive.
She grabbed a glass from the cabinet carefully, painfully aware of his presence only a few feet away.
He glanced at her once, quickly, then looked away.
She looked horrible and he noticed immediately. Her eyes were dull from crying , her shoulders slumped inward; she moved slower somehow.
Smaller.
Guilt crawled under his skin but then his mind replayed everything from the fight again.
We can't have this baby right now.
And the conviction hardened all over again.
He stayed silent. She poured water with shaky hands. The sound echoed through the quiet walls.
Then she walked away.
That became routine. Days passed like that. Cold, awkward and painfully careful. The apartment no longer felt like home, it felt like shared territory.
She stopped sitting beside him on the couch, she stopped asking if he wanted food, stopped touching him when she walked past. And Marshall noticed every change.
He noticed how she barely ate now, how she spent hours wrapped in blankets staring at nothing, how music no longer played while she cleaned; how her laughter had completely disappeared from the apartment.
She was depressed.
Not dramatically, not loudly...quietly. Which somehow felt worse.
Sometimes he'd catch her standing absentmindedly in the kitchen with one hand resting unconsciously against her stomach before she seemed to realize what she was doing and stop.
Every single time his chest ached painfully. But he still couldn't let go of his fear.
At night the distance between them in bed felt massive. She stayed turned toward the wall and he stayed on his side pretending sleep came easily.
It didn't.
Marshall barely slept anymore, because every time he closed his eyes, he pictures two completely different futures.
One where they kept the baby and everything fell apart.
And one where they didn't-
and she never forgave him.
Neither felt survivable.
One night around 2 AM, he found her sitting alone on the bathroom floor. The lights were off except for the dim hallway glow spilling through the cracked door. She looked exhausted, her knees pulled to her chest.
He stopped in the doorway, silent. for a second neither of them moved. Then quietly -
"You ok?"
Her eyes stayed fixed on the floor "Does it matter?"
The answer hit like a punch, Marshalls jaw tightened instantly. "It was a question."
She gave a tired laugh and whispered. "You don't get to act concerned now."
That stung because it was true. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed tightly. "You think I'm doing this to hurt you?"
"I think" She said softly, finally looking up at him, ""you already decided this baby's a problem before it even exists."
His expression hardened defensively "That's not what I said"
"It's what you meant."
Silence stretched again, the kind both of them were getting frighteningly used to. Marshall rubbed a hand over his mouth frustrated.
"You think I'm some monster because I'm scared?"
"I think you're so scared" She whispered, eyes glassy now, "that you'd rather lose us than admit you want this too."
That hit too close, his face changed immediately. Anger mixed with panic, "Don't tell me what I want."
She looked away first. That hurt him more than yelling ever did, because she looked tired now. Not angry , just hurt.
And suddenly Marshall realized something terrifying, the apartment wasn't filled with screaming anymore.
It was filled with grief.
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
The apartment stayed painfully quiet over the next week and a half. Not peaceful quiet, the kind that suffocates. Every sound became too loud because neither of them spoke enough anymore.
Cabinet doors closing, the shower running, His keys hitting the counter, her footsteps moving around the bedroom late at night when anxiety wouldn't let her sleep, It all echoed.
And somehow the silence between those sounds hurt even more.
Marshall still came home late most nights, but not because he didn't want to be there, it was because he didn't know how to be there anymore.
She could feel him watching her sometimes. From the kitchen doorway, from across the couch, from his side of the bed when he thought she was asleep.
But every time it seemed like he might finally say something - really say something - that stubborn fear in him took over again and he'd go cold. Distant.
She started living inside her own head. It was dangerous there, because when she wasn't crying, she was imagining. She imagined tiny sneakers abandoned by the couch, Marshall holding a baby awkwardly for the first time terrified he'd do it wrong, she imagined laughing in the kitchen at three in the morning while the baby cried and both of them were exhausted but happy anyway; she imagined little blonde curls or maybe dark hair like hers, and she imagined him softening slowly. Becoming gentler, less angry at the world.
The images came so naturally it hurt. But then the other future would creep in.
The darker one.
The realistic one.
More fights, more screaming , money stress, Marshall spiraling under pressure, the relationship falling apart completely, and a child stuck in the middle of two people who loved each other deeply but destructively.
And once those thoughts started, his words would replay in her head over and over again like poison.
You think this kid deserves this?
You think love is enough for a kid?
I can barely handle my own head half the time.
At first she hated him for saying those things.
Then slowly-
Terrifyingly-
She started wondering if he was right. That was the worst part, not the fighting, not the loneliness, but the fact that she could suddenly understand his fear.
One night she stood alone in the bathroom again, staring at herself in the mirror. She looked exhausted with dull eyes and a pale face. She rested trembling hands against the sink and closed her eyes.
She loved him.
That was the problem.
She loved him enough that losing him felt impossible to survive. And deep down, she knew this baby could destroy whatever fragile thing still existed between them.
Maybe not immediately, maybe slowly and painfully. But eventually. The realization hollowed her out.
By the next morning, she had made a decision. She moved through the apartment numbly while getting dressed.
Marshall had already left for the studio, his coffee mug still sat in the sink and his hoodie still hung over the kitchen chair. Normal things. Ordinary things.
She almost broke down just looking at them, her hands shook while writing the note. The pen hovered over the paper for a long time before she finally forced herself to write the words.
Im going to Greenlake Women's Clinic.
Maybe you were right.
She stared at the note afterward until her vision blurred. Then quietly, she placed it on the kitchen counter , and left.
---
Marshall came home around an hour later. The apartment felt wrong immediately. Too still.
"Baby?"
No answer.
He looked around for her, But he didn't find any trace. He panicked for a moment, thinking she must've left him.
He tossed his keys down distractedly, already pulling his hoodie off before his eyes landed on the note. He froze. Something cold slid through his chest instantly. He grabbed the paper fast enough to wrinkle it, but the second he read it, the second he read the clinic name, all the air left his lungs.
Then the last sentence.
Maybe you were right.
His jaw tightened hard, "No," he muttered.
Not angry but panicked, real panic. Because suddenly all those arguments, all those reasons, all that certainty- felt horrifyingly real.
This wasn't hypothetical anymore.
This was happening.
And the thought of her sitting there alone through this made something sick twist violently in hid stomach. He pictures her face the night of the fight, the crying, the way she kept begging him to say something.
Jesus Christ.
Marshall grabbed his keys immediately. He didn't care whether she wanted him there or not. Didn't care if she screamed at him to leave. He was not letting her sit in that place by herself believing he didn't care.
---
The waiting room smelled like antiseptic and stale air conditioning, everything was painfully white- too bright and too clean.
She sat curled into herself in one of the chairs near the wall, hands tucked beneath her sleeves while her knee bounced anxiously.
Women sat scattered throughout the room avoiding eye contact with each other. The television mounted in the corner played some muted daytime show no one was watching.
Her stomach twisted, she felt numb not calm- just disconnected. Like her body had gone into survival mode.
Every few seconds her eyes drifted toward the reception desk, terrified her name would be called.
Then the clinic door opened.
She looked up automatically and froze.
Marshall stood there breathing hard like he'd rushed the entire way there. His hoodie was half zipped wrong, hair messy- eyes frantic until they landed on her. Then his expression changed. The panic cracked into something worse.
Guilt.
Because sitting there beneath these harsh fluorescent lights, she looked so small.
Defenseless.
Like she was waiting to be sentenced instead of helped. And suddenly he understood exactly how alone she must've felt this entire time.
Her eyes locked with his, for a moment neither of them moved. Then slowly, Marshall walked toward her. She watched him carefully, there was no anger left in his face now. Only exhaustion, regret and fear.
He sat down beside her quietly. close enough that their knees almost touched but not quite. Neither of them spoke. What was there to even say anymore?
The silence between them felt different there, not sharp like the apartment but sadder.
He glanced at her once, her hands were trembling in her lap. Without really thinking, his hand shifted slightly on the chair beside him. Not touching her- just there. Like he wanted to, like he didn't know if he still had the right.
She stared forward at the floor tiles. Marshall stared at the opposite wall, and together, in awful silence- they waited for her name to be called.
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
"Miss____"
The sound of her name made her stomach drop. She stood slowly from the waiting room chair, beside her, Marshall stood too without hesitation.
She glanced at him briefly, almost surprised he was still there. But he dint look away from her once.
The nurse led both of them down a long hallway the smelled sharply of disinfectant and something sterile enough to make her chest tighten. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed faintly while her heartbeat pounded louder with every step.
Marshall walked slightly behind her, close enough to catch her if she broke apart- far enough to let her breath.
The room they brought them to was small and hauntingly clinical. White walls, metal drawers, medical posters and a monitor beside an examination bed.
Everything about it made this feel too real.
The doctor entered a moment later with a gentle smile that somehow made her want to cry harder.
"Hi," she said softly. "I'm Dr.Bennett."
She nodded weakly.
Marshall stayed silent beside her.
"Go ahead and sit for me."
They both sat down side by side in the chairs near her desk.
She asked questions gently while typing things into a computer.
"When did you find out you were pregnant?"
"A week and a half ago," she answered quietly.
"And do you know approximately how far along you are?"
She shook her head. "Not really. My periods are irregular sometimes... I can go like a month without one."
Doctor Bennett nodded understandingly. "Okay. We'll do an ultrasound first to get a better estimate."
Her stomach twisted.
The doctor stood and motioned toward the medical bed.
" Lay back for me , lift your shirt slightly and bring your pants just a little lower please."
She nodded nervously before moving onto the bed. The paper beneath her crinkled loudly in the silent room.
Marshall stayed standing awkwardly at first, unsure where to look or what to do.
The doctor pulled a rolling stool beside the bed. "You can sit there if you'd like."
He sat immediately. Too quickly.
His knee bounced restlessly while his hands clasped tightly together.
She avoided looking at him completly, buy she could feel his eyes following every movement she made.
The doctor lifted her shirt slightly higher before squeezing cold gel onto her stomach. She flinched.
"Sorry," she said kindly. "Little cold."
Marshalls eyes stayed glued to the spot where her hand rested.
Her bare skin.
The gel.
The wand.
All of it felt strangely intimate and terrifying at the same time.
The doctor moved the ultrasound probe slowly across her stomach while looking at the monitor. "Let's see what we have here."
Her breathing became shallow, beside her Marshall shifted forward slightly in his chair, nervous, scared, and beneath all of it - something else. Something he couldn't explain,
A sick twisted feeling in his chest that felt dangerously close to hope.
The room stayed quiet except for the soft static hum coming from the machine.
Then suddenly-
Fast
Tiny
Bu-bump, Bu-bump ,Bu-bump....
The sound hit both of them like a physical blow.
The doctor, used to moments like these in places like this, didn't point it out directly. She simply kept moving through the scan. But neither of them missed it.
How could they?
Her entire body went still.
The sound wrapped around her chest and squeezed tightly and painfully.
That was real.
There was a life inside her, a heart beating beneath her skin, a baby she already loved so much it hurt. Her eyes started to burn.
Beside her, Marshall looked completely frozen. His face lost all color. Because suddenly this wasn't just fear anymore. Wasn't just hypotheticals and arguments and ruined futures. That was a real heartbeat.
His baby's heartbeat.
Half him.
Half her.
Alive.
The realization shook something loose deep inside him. And for the first time since all this started, doubt cracked through his certainty.
Not enough to erase the fear, but enough to haunt him.
His eyes stayed fixed on the monitor like he physically couldn't look away. The tiny flickering image on the screen looked impossibly small. And yet somehow, it already felt huge enough to change everything.
Dr. Bennett finally smiled softly "Looks like you're about eight weeks pregnant."
Eight weeks.
Marshall swallowed hard.
The doctor whipped the gel from her stomach. "I'm just going to clean this off and then we'll head back over to the desk and talk through your options, okay?"
She nodded numbly. Her hands shook while pulling her shirt back down.
Marshall stood automatically the second she sat up, like instinct alone was guiding him now.
Both of them retuned to the chairs near the desk, the heartbeat still echoed in their heads. Neither spoke.
Dr. Bennett explained everything calmly. Medical and surgical abortion, risks, recovery and support systems- words blurred together after a while, then gently-
"Have you thought about what you'd like to do?"
Her throat tightened again, she stared down at her hands for a long time before forcing herself to answer.
"I want to get rid of it."
The second those words left her mouth, something inside Marshall clenched violently. He kept his face blank, but internally it felt like someone had grabbed his lungs. Because hearing her say it out loud suddenly sounded wrong.
Permanent
Real.
And when he looked at her- really looked at her- she didn't look relieved. She looked heartbroken.
Like she was forcing herself through something she didn't actually want.
The guilt nearly crushed him.
Dr. Bennett nodded gently. "The sooner the better at this stage" she clicked a few things on the computer. "We can schedule you for the day after tomorrow."
She nodded once, Marshall said nothing. He couldn't.
Because that heartbeat was still lodged inside his chest like a splinter.
---
The drive home was silent.
Rain streaked softly against the car windows while the city lights blurred past outside. She stared out the passenger window the entire ride.
Marshall gripped the steering wheel too tightly. Every few minutes his jaw flexed hard like he was arguing with himself internally.
But neither of them spoke.
What could either of them even say now?
Back at the apartment, the silence followed them inside. She immediately disappeared into the bathroom. A few seconds later the shower turned on.
Marshall sat on the edge of the couch slowly, rubbing exhausted hands over his face.
Then he heard it.
Quiet at first, almost hidden beneath water.
Crying.
His chest tightened, he sat there frozen while the sound tore through the apartment. And suddenly all he could think about was how alone she must've felt this entire time.
Alone carrying the fear, alone carrying the decision, alone carrying the baby.
Jesus Christ.
Marshall leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor while his thoughts spiraled violently. The heartbeat replaying in his head over and over again.
Fast
Tiny
Bu-Bump, Bu-Bump, Bu-Bump...
At first it terrified him. Then slowly- something else settled beneath the fear. A thought he'd been too scared to let himself have before.
Maybe this baby wouldn't ruin everything.
Maybe.
Maybe this was the first thing in his life that might actually force him to become better.
A better man, a better partner... a better father than the one he had.
The realization scared him almost as much as losing the baby suddenly did.
That night he didn't sleep at all. She eventually fell asleep curled away from him, emotionally exhausted, her breathing uneven even in sleep. Marshall stayed sitting against the headboard in darkness for hours just looking at her.
Thinking...
The apartment was silent except for distant traffic outside and the occasional creak of pipes in the walls.
Slowly, almost hesitantly, his hand moved toward her stomach beneath the blanket. Barely visible, still flat, but suddenly unimaginably important.
His palm rested there lightly and carefully like he was terrified he didn't deserve to touch her anymore. His chest ached, because now every time he closed eyes- he heard that heartbeat.
And instead of sounding like disaster, it was beginning to sound like something worth fighting for.
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
Morning came gray and quiet, she woke up alone again. The other side of the bed was empty, the sheets were cold and slightly wrinkled where Marshall had been hours earlier.
For a moment, she just stared at the ceiling, she felt too emotionally exhausted to even cry anymore. Everything inside her felt numb and heavy at the same time.
The appointment was tomorrow.
Tomorrow...
The thought sat like concrete in her chest , she rolled onto her side slowly, pulling the blanket tighter around herself as her mind replayed yesterday on a loop.
The clinic, the monitor, the heartbeat...and Marshalls face when he heard it.
She closed her eyes tightly not knowing what hurt more anymore- the idea of losing the baby, or the idea that maybe keeping it would eventually destroy the two of them anyway.
By afternoon she'd barely moved from the couch, the tv played mindlessly in front of her flashing colors across the dim apartment, but she wasn't actually watching it.
She sat curled into herself beneath a blanket, knees against her chest and staring through the screen rather than at it.
The apartment smelled faintly of rain and cold coffee, outside, the city moved on like her world wasn't collapsing.
Meanwhile Marshall sat alone in the studio downtown trying ti outrun his thoughts. It didn't work. Music usually helped, the booth was the only place his head made sense; but today every lyric felt hollow and every beat too loud. Because no matter how hard he tried to focus - his mind kept replaying one thing.
That heartbeat.
Fast
Tiny
Bu-Bump, Bu-Bump, Bu-Bump....
He could still see the the flicker on the screen, her face trying hard not to break apart while she said :
I want to get rid of it
And suddenly he understood something: She wasn't choosing this because she wanted to. She was choosing it because he made her feel like she had to.
The realization made him feel sick. Marshall sat in the booth alone long after everyone else had left, elbows on his knees, head lowered and thinking about his own father. Thinking about fear.
Thinking about how close he came to throwing away the one thing in his life that already felt bigger than himself.
By the time he got home that night his chest felt tight with nerves. The apartment was dim except for the tv light flickering softly across the living room.
And there she was.
Curled beneath a blanket, exactly where he imagined she'd be, small, quiet and disconnected from everything around her.
Marshall stopped in the doorway for a second just looking at her, God, he hated how sad she looked lately. How tired and alone. He swallowed before walking slowly toward her.
She barely reacted at first, still staring blankly ahead.
Then the coffee table creaked softly as he sat down in front of her.That finally pulled her away from her thoughts, her eyes lifted slowly to his. Marshall's expression was softer than she'd seen in weeks.
No anger, and no defensiveness.
Just exhaustion and something painfully sincere underneath it. His hands rubbed his knees nervously. A rare sight.
"Can we talk?" His voice was quiet and gentle.
She blinked slightly, surprised by the softness in it.
"I don't wanna fight, I just want you to hear me"
She stayed silent beneath the blanket, her blurry eyes trying to adjust his way since she's been staring at the same spot on the tv for too long, but she didn't tell him to leave, so he kept going.
"Ive been thinking a lot , actually that's all I've been doing" He looked at her, eyes tired and honest, looking for any sign that she was listening.
"This whole thing’s been really fucked up." he breathed out.
She swallowed hard, feeling her heartbeat race a little faster.
"But what's more fucked up is if we don't keep this baby"
That got her attention quickly. Her eyes snapped fully to his face and Marshall noticed right away. He exhaled shakily before continuing.
He's so good with words on a mic but sitting here in front of her trying to say what he wants to say seems like something he needs to get perfectly right.
"I kept telling myself I wasn't ready because of money.... or the apartment... or us fighting all the time..." He shook his head slowly. "But that's not what it is."
Her heartbeat felt like it would implode any second.
He looked terrified saying the next part.
"Think I was just scared id fail"
The honesty In his voice nearly broke her. He rubbed his palms against his knees again nervously.
"I'm scared I'm gonna turn into every shitty thing I grew up around."
Her eyes burned.
"But, yesterday..." He took a breath "Hearing that heartbeat..."
His expression softened in a way she'd never seen before. something raw and completely unguarded.
"It made everything feel real."
Her breathing became more shaky, Marshall leaned forward slightly, those sky blue eyes locked on hers now.
"And then all I could think was... that there's this little heartbeat inside you that's half me and half you."
Tears blurred her vision now as she could hear his voice almost crack.
"And somehow that mattered more than any fear I had before." he whispered leaning further in , making sure she was really listening.
Her her eyes watched her hands play with the corner of the blanket as she bit her lower lip and her eyes blurred completely in tears.
Marshalls eyes grew glassy too, though he blinked it away quickly.
"I'm sorry." The words came out rough and painfully genuine. "I'm sorry for leaving you alone in this, and for making you think you had to do this because of me."
Her chest finally cracked open, tears rolled down her cheeks now, Marshall moved a little closer unconsciously.
"And I'm sorry I ever told you I didn't want our baby"
Our baby
Not the baby
Our
The relief that hit her was so overwhelming it almost hurt. Marshall kept going softly.
"I do want this" he put a and next to her on the couch now , leaning his head forward more to look straight in her eyes.
"I want you, I want our baby, I want our life even if it's messy and hard and scary." He said it so softly it made a sob escape her before she could stop it.
"And I promise you , I'll work harder than I ever have in my life to make sure you both have what you need."
By now tears were falling freely down her face.
But for the first time in weeks- they didn't feel hopeless, they felt like relief.
A giant breath finally left her body as if she'd been holding it this entire time and without thinking she reached for him pulling him in toward her.
Marshall came willingly, almost desperate.
His arms wrapped around her tightly the second she touched him, like he'd been starving for it too.
And honestly - he had.
The hug felt overwhelming after so much distance, warm , safe and familiar. She buried her face in his neck while he held her terrified of letting go, and he thought :
This is where I belong
With her
With the baby
With this life
She whispered against his shoulder "I love you"
His grip tightened instantly
"We're gonna be okay" he said , because for the fist time - he actually believed it.
He squeezed her even closer for another moment before pulling back slightly, hands gently landing on her wait. "C'mere"
He guided her carefully to stand between his legs.
Her stomach was still barely visible, but suddenly it felt impossibly important beneath his hands.
Marshall looked down at it quietly for a moment, almost in awe, then slowly - his palms rested against her stomach gently and protective.
His expression softened completely.
"Hey, little soldier," he murmured softly,
Her breath caught, Marshall gave the tiniest nervous smile.
"Sorry your dad's an idiot..."
A tearful laugh escaped her.
"...But he's here, and he loves you"
He leaned forward then, pressing a soft kiss against her stomach.
The tenderness of it nearly shattered her because this was the same man who'd once been terrified this baby would ruin everything, and now he looked at her stomach like it already held his entire world.
"And he loves you too" he said looking up at her.
Marshall stood afterward, one hand still resting against her waist then kissed her, softly , carefully, like he was apologizing all over again without words.
And somewhere between his lips against hers and his hand over her stomach - both of them understood something. This baby wasn't the end of their story.
It was the beginning of it.
