Dying in His Arms – An Ezria Story
Prologue
Aria Montgomery was so nervous. From the previous night, Ezra and Aria had finally gathered up the courage to try again. They were so desperate – They wanted a child more than anything else. It wasn't as if they needed a child in order for their relationship to survive, but they were both longing for something more. Another piece of each other. Anything. They were so in love that nothing could keep them from each other, and a child would only bring them even closer. Aria waited the right amount of time after going on the pregnancy test, and although five minutes had passed since she could have known, she could not bring her eyes to make contact with the stick. Ezra had gone downstairs to start breakfast, but made Aria promise not to look without him. Whether the news was good – or bad – they would face it together, as one.
"Ezra," Aria called from the bathroom. "It's been enough time."
"Coming, Aria," Ezra called back from the kitchen. His feet pounded up the stairs, as he skipped steps in order to get upstairs faster. Aria looked him in the eyes.
"I'm nervous," she said. "What if there's only more bad news? I don't think I can take that kind of rejection again," she told him. Aria could tell Ezra anything, which is one of the many reasons that their relationship has lasted so long throughout all these years. Aria was no longer a high school student, and Ezra was no longer her teacher. Their relationship was perfectly legal, and since Aria was now twenty-five years old, she had decided that it was time for a child. And Ezra couldn't have agreed more.
Ezra grasped her hand. "We'll get through this together. You're the bravest person I've ever met, Aria, and nothing – not even some bad news, will stop you. We'll keep trying and trying, until we have a beautiful baby. I promise you that I will not stop until you have what you want. What we want."
Aria and Ezra simultaneously glanced over at the pregnancy test, preparing for the worst possible news that they would ever have to endure. It was like deja vu, except this time: One detail was different. The test was positive.