Carter was home. For the first time in days, Abby had managed to breathe a little easier, though the weight in her chest still hadn't fully lifted. The hospital had discharged him late in the afternoon, and now, as the evening settled over Chicago, the two of them sat quietly in the living room, the air still thick with the heaviness of the last few days.
Abby had gone out earlier to pick up some supplies. Oxygen tanks, a portable monitor, and an array of prescriptions that felt like an endless list. The medications, the instructions, the new routine—it was all so overwhelming. It felt like they had crossed some invisible threshold, stepping into an unfamiliar world that neither of them had ever imagined.
"Are you sure you're comfortable?" Abby asked softly, looking over at Carter, who was reclining on the couch with an oxygen mask resting gently on his face. The device was attached to a tank beside him, a constant hum filling the space.
Carter nodded, adjusting his position slightly, but his eyes were tired. There was something about the way he looked at her that made her feel like he was trying to reassure her, even though she could see the exhaustion in every line of his face.
"I'm fine, Abs," he said, his voice slightly muffled by the mask. "Just getting used to all of this."
She sat down next to him, her fingers brushing his hand. "I wish you didn't have to. I wish this was all just a bad dream." Her voice trembled as she spoke, and she quickly cleared her throat, trying to keep herself together.
"I know," he replied quietly, squeezing her hand in return. "I know."
The silence that followed was thick with emotions neither of them could articulate. Carter's diagnosis had come as a shock, but the reality of it—seeing him so vulnerable, so fragile—was even harder to bear. Abby had spent the past few days in a haze, barely able to process the changes in their lives, but now that they were home, she couldn't avoid it anymore. This was real.
"Are you going to start the chemo tomorrow?" Abby asked, her voice low, eyes flicking between Carter's face and the oxygen mask.
"Yeah," Carter said, his voice heavy. "They're starting me on a combination of drugs. They said it might make me feel… sick at first. The nausea's supposed to be bad."
Abby nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. She didn't know what to say. What could she say? There were no words that could undo what was happening to him. She had been living in denial, hoping for some miracle that would make it all go away. But the truth was undeniable now, and she had to face it.
"I'll be right here," Abby said, her voice breaking through the silence. "I'll help you through it. Every step of the way."
Carter turned to look at her then, his eyes soft but filled with gratitude. "I know you will, Abs. I don't know what I'd do without you."
Her throat tightened, but she forced a smile, trying to be strong for him. She had to be strong for both of them.
The following days passed in a blur. Carter's chemotherapy treatments began, and though Abby tried to stay optimistic, the side effects were already taking their toll. He spent most of his time resting, occasionally nodding off in the middle of conversations or meals. His appetite was non-existent, and he couldn't get through a full meal without feeling nauseous.
Abby tried her best to keep things normal, but nothing felt normal anymore. The house was quieter than it had ever been, filled with the low hum of the oxygen machine and the distant sounds of Carter's labored breathing. She could see the toll the treatment was taking on him—his once vibrant energy slowly slipping away—and it hurt her in a way she hadn't anticipated. She missed the Carter who had always been the one to make her laugh, the one who was full of life and ambition. Now, he was fighting a battle that seemed impossible to win.
And yet, despite the heaviness in her heart, Abby couldn't let herself fall apart. She couldn't afford to. She had to keep going. Not just for her own sake, but for Carter's.
Meanwhile, Abby had started to notice something strange about her own body. The weight she had gained—just a few pounds at first—was now becoming more noticeable. Her clothes fit tighter around her hips, and she could see the subtle change in her reflection when she looked in the mirror. She didn't know why, but she felt an overwhelming need to do something about it.
She had always been active, but now she found herself obsessing over every bite of food and every extra calorie. The weight gain, coupled with the emotional strain of Carter's illness, had made her feel out of control, and that was something she couldn't handle.
So, she began working out.
She started small at first—early morning runs around the block, long walks in the park, and slowly increasing the intensity of her workouts as the days passed. She wanted to feel stronger, more in control of her own body. If she could push herself to the limit physically, maybe it would help her manage the emotional chaos she was experiencing.
The gym became her sanctuary. It was a place where she could lose herself, even if just for an hour, in the rhythm of the treadmill or the weight of the dumbbells. Every drop of sweat felt like it was purging the anxiety and fear that had settled deep inside her chest. It was the only way she could feel some semblance of control in a world that felt like it was spiraling out of her reach.
It wasn't long before Abby also began paying closer attention to her diet. She made healthier choices, cutting out the foods she had once relied on to comfort herself—chocolate, chips, and sugary snacks. She replaced them with salads, lean proteins, and fresh fruit, all the while keeping track of the number of calories she consumed.
Her new routine was grueling, but it brought a sense of purpose. For a brief moment every day, she could stop thinking about the worst-case scenarios, about what could happen to Carter, and just focus on herself.
But as the days went on, Abby began to feel a nagging sense of discomfort. Her energy levels were low, and the changes to her diet and exercise routine were starting to take a toll on her body. Her once regular menstrual cycle had started to become erratic, and she found herself feeling nauseous at odd times—mornings were the worst, but it was nothing she couldn't push through.
It wasn't until she started feeling a little more fatigued than usual that she began to wonder. Could it be? She dismissed it almost immediately, but something in the back of her mind told her to take a pregnancy test.
It was an impulsive decision, one born out of sheer curiosity. She grabbed one from the bathroom cabinet, hesitating for only a moment before taking the test. She wasn't ready for this. She hadn't even thought about the possibility—hadn't considered it—until now.
The test was easy enough to read. The two lines were unmistakable.
Abby sat down on the edge of the bathroom sink, staring at the test in her hands, her mind going completely blank. She had no idea how to process what she was seeing. Pregnant? How? She hadn't even thought about it with everything going on. And now, she was supposed to add this to the mountain of uncertainty that already weighed on her shoulders.
Her hands shook as she reached for her phone and dialed Carol's number. When the nurse answered, Abby's voice was tight, trembling as she said, "Carol, I… I need to talk to you. I just took a pregnancy test. It's positive."