Quote of the Chapter:
"He might ask if I've mentioned him,
Say I have once, in passing." - Don't say I said it, Sophie Hannah
Chapter Fifty-Two: Do (Not) Disturb
Returning back to work definitely was a strange feeling. Walking into the office after being mysteriously absent for a few days definitely felt uncanny for Elizabeth. Especially when regarding the heavy secret she carried on her shoulders, the dirty smear of her actions that had led to her current reality. Even if she knew no-one could outright tell what she had done.
Only two people in the entire building knew about Elizabeth's potential pregnancy. One of them was her very best friend, eager and excited and taking extra care whenever she was around Elizabeth these days. Another was someone who had always cared for her, been there in the background to watch over her like some kind of sacred guardian angel.
That second person was the one Elizabeth worried about most.
Even though Mael gave no indication of wanting to expose Elizabeth's behaviour, she knew that he could easily be manipulated, influenced, by other factors, other people. Keeping her safe, far away from the people that he perceived as dangerous for her, had always been Mael's main objective. Ever since she'd helped him that fateful day, a snotty-nosed boy with a scraped knee and watery eyes.
"Thank you..." He'd barely gotten the words out back then, a teenager mixed with the rowdy ruckus of a bunch of young adults. Tight at the throat, buttoned up to the top, his shirt didn't have a single loose buttonhole. Neat, freshly combed, his smooth hair was shiny in the pale autumn sun, reminiscent of a kid scrubbed and cleaned and polished for school.
Sixteen. Mael had been sixteen when he'd first met Elizabeth, skipped two years of the school system to join a course based around words and social politics. They just so happened to share a class. Even though he was sixteen, he had been an awfully awkward thing, all skinny and no muscle and no defined, sharp angles. Like an ugly duckling, he could be considered a late bloomer; he lagged behind his peers despite flourishing in academics.
Yet there he was, the sole child in Elizabeth's class, picked on and belittled by the larger, more confident young men. Most of the women in the class didn't care for him; others in between simply shrugged and brushed him off as Ludociel's genius kid brother. The little kid they all had to humour because his parents donated to the university's wallet.
"It's really no problem," As if it were yesterday, Elizabeth could remember how she'd brushed off her clothes that day, brushed aside the huge grass stain that ultimately ruined her favourite skirt. In that moment, the skirt hadn't mattered; she was more worried about the kid who had been bawling his eyes out, trying to hide it behind the stone pillar of a public stairway.
And that was how they had hit it off, became friends. At least, for her it had been a friendship, a brief flicker in time where she became the role model instead of the star-struck student. And Mael had seemed eager to learn.
"Good morning, Elizabeth," Now Mael was no longer a sixteen year old boy. Taller, much taller, he towered over Elizabeth and had more or less become unrecognisable to her. Broad-shouldered, much more confident, a patch of stubble on his matured face: he had become a man in the time she had gradually forgotten about him.
But he hadn't forgotten her.
"Good morning, Mael," Short, breezy, light. A simple flick of her hair over her shoulder.
There were no more hugs to be shared. There were no more morning coffees, the cheerful conversations shared in the lift as they rode up to the main office. Now, at least on Elizabeth's end, everything would be a frosty, stilted exchange. Every action would be a reflection of the severed, abandoned lifeline that lay limp between them. Bitter disagreement.
Severing all ties, cutting off that lifeline, meant breaking all bonds. Painful, it would hurt. Searing, it would last and burn. But breaking the bonds was something Elizabeth had to do - especially now that she had much more than herself to look after now.
Walking to her desk had never felt like such a pressured thing before. As Elizabeth marched through the open cubicle area, drawing the attention of the usual nosy neighbours, she couldn't help the slight blush that stained her cheeks. Diane popping up didn't help much either. Slinking ahead, pulling open the door to Elizabeth's little office, she was making it pretty obvious that something unusual was going on.
"So... how's the baby?" As the door shut behind them, clicked as it sealed shut, Diane wiggled her brows, "Healthy and whole, I hope."
"I wouldn't know, because I couldn't stomach hearing the news alone," Unzipping her jacket, unwinding her scarf, Elizabeth tried to hide the trembling to her hands as she settled in for the lengthy day ahead. Ultimately, it failed because her heart kept pumping and pumping and pumping, making her nerves erratic as she opened up her bag.
Fumbling, awkward, her fingers slipped over one another, catching on the buckle of her bag and scratching against the zipper. All the while, Diane watched, curiosity swirling in her mind as she approached Elizabeth's side.
"So did you even go to the appointment?" Tilting her head, Diane frowned as she pulled a second desk chair to Elizabeth's desk. Carefully, she sat down as her friend fished out a little envelope, sealed and untouched.
"Not going would make everything worse," Sighing, Elizabeth closed her eyes as she handed the envelope to her best friend. Taking her own seat, burying her face within her pale hands, she murmured softly, "I'd prefer if you would do the honours."
Honestly, that was the truth. When she had sat in the GP surgery, chewing on her lip as she awaited the results of her blood and urine samples, Elizabeth had felt nothing but cold, fast-spreading anxiety. When the doctor had handed her the results, sealed in the requested envelope and with the promise to return in a few days, her hands and nerves had quivered.
Being alone, with this sort of news, was tough. Dealing with all this, aware that someone vital was missing, was a lot harder than Elizabeth thought it would be. Especially when she was really, really missing him, finding the gaps and vacant spaces that he once occupied with every passing second. Missing voids of flesh and bone that had once housed a healthy, vital organ.
'I miss you' - it had been verging on the tip of Elizabeth's tongue, twitched at her thumb whenever her hand hovered over his name. 'I'm sorry,' was the second most common thought, swimming in the depths of her mind and dragging the sticky remains of regret into her heart. But, more than anything, Elizabeth wanted to say one simple thing: we need to talk.
The only problem was mustering up the courage to face him.
"You want me to open it?" Small, gentle, Diane's voice was almost unrecognisable as she accepted the envelope. The heavy, sealed truth. Glancing to Elizabeth, she ran a finger over the smooth seal, "Are you sure?"
All Elizabeth could do was nod. When Diane ripped open the envelope, pulled out the paper inside and asked once more, again all Elizabeth could do was nod. Slowly, the paper was unfolded. Immediately, Diane's eyes widened. Two simple sentences slipped out from her mouth.
"Congratulations! You and Meliodas are officially parents."
And in that moment, her entire world crashing down, Elizabeth could only do one thing: put her phone on 'do not disturb'.