Not gonna lie, you're probably gonna hate this. I don't own Degrassi.
"Get out," she bit harshly, but under her breath. She couldn't yell at him like she wanted to for fear of someone overhearing and barging into her bridal suite. Her tiny hands were balled around fistfuls of white silk and lace, wrinkling and staining her dress' beauty with sweaty palms and heavy doubt.
"No," he growled, grabbing her bare forearms with just enough force to hurt. She choked back a whimper and tore her gaze away from his intense green orbs that seemed to be staring into her.
"Eli, please," she whispered and something in her tone made him pause. He let his hands fall limply to his sides and took a step back.
"Do you still love me, Clare?" He asked quietly. He braced himself, waiting for the answer he knew was going to come.
"You know I do, Eli." She whispered and his eyes flew up to meet hers. She could see the hope flame in his eyes and she hated herself for knowing she had to stomp it out.
"Do you love him?" He asked, the same hope making an appearance in his desperate sounding voice. Clare looked away and stared at the painting on the wall.
Jesus.
She scoffed internally.
How appropriate.
"I'm pregnant," she said almost silently, not risking a glance in Eli's direction.
He blinked.
Once.
Twice.
As if trying to register what she'd just said before his glare turned deadly and his eyes steeled over.
She continued to stare at the painting like a lifeline. As if it were the only thing anchoring her in this world and maybe it was. It certainly felt like it.
"Did you know when... When we..." He trailed off, not trusting his voice to carry the loaded words any longer.
She refused to look at him.
"Look at me," he demanded with flames of a different kind in his words.
She did and when he saw her tear-filled eyes and guilt-ridden expression he knew.
She didn't have to give him an answer, but she did anyway.
"I knew." She stated with a gentle nod of her head, the tears spilling over and onto her cheeks. Her chin trembled and the smallest part of him ached to reach out and touch her, but he couldn't do that.
At least not anymore.
He swallowed the bile that rose up in his throat and clenched his fists. He could feel the rage building up inside him as he took a vase from the table and flung it at the wall, causing Clare to look at him with wide eyes and a disbelieving expression.
He laughed without an ounce of humor and shook his head.
She had no right to look at him like that.
Suddenly, the door flew open and they were joined by a tiny woman with dark hair and a headset that Eli could only assume was the wedding director.
He laughed at that too.
You couldn't direct life. He of all people knew that by now.
He stalked out, half hoping to hear Clare call out after him. She didn't, but he expected that so it only hurt so much.
"Who was that?" The director asked, eying Clare with a look somewhere between pity and anger.
"No one important." She answered, grazing a hand over her stomach.
At least not anymore.