Page 35 of Heart of The Night

‘He’s not seeing anybody else, Chloe, nor is he interested in it,’ I said, hoping to reassure her. ‘He’s in limbo, figuring out what he wants. That’s it.’

‘I’ve been doing the same.’

Her tone gave me pause.

‘I thought you knew what you wanted,’ I said, the surprise in my voice barely masked. She had always yearned for a family with Andy – that was the crux of their discord.

She sighed. ‘It’s become a question of what I want most – Andy, or children.’

I leaned back, a silent prompt for her to continue.

‘And I’ve realised that,’ she went on, ‘if I am to spend the rest of my life without Andy, no child could ever fill the void he’d leave.’ Her gaze met mine, a watery sheen coating her eyes. ‘I dread the thought of never being a mother, but it’s a reality I can accept. Losing Andy, on the other hand… It’s a prospect I cannot bear.’

I stared at her, my eyes wide as I processed her admission. The sheer enormity of her willingness to forfeit the dream of motherhood, a dream she had cherished for as long as I had known her, for Andy’s sake, was astounding. Indeed, the depth of her love for him was exposed in the raw sacrifice she was prepared to make.

I couldn’t help but think him unworthy of it. For all my affection for Andy, I was not blind to his shortcomings. I recalled the pattern of their relationship, where Chloe’s love had been the nourishing stream Andy drew from, seldom replenishing. His proclivity to gravitate toward his own needs, frequently neglecting to acknowledge Chloe’s contributions, her compromises, was no secret, even to someone fond of him like me.

The consideration of parenthood, however, painted a murkier picture. If Andy was averse to the idea of fatherhood, imposing it upon him would be morally unjust both to him and to his prospective children, born unwanted. Their dilemma thus posed itself as a canyon of potentially irreconcilable differences.

It dawned on me then, accompanied by a fresh wave of irritation, that it was Chloe, once more, who was stepping toward the divide, seeking to bridge the distance. It was always her yielding, bending like a willow in the wind, striving to mend the fractures that would appear.

‘Are you absolutely sure?’ I challenged her. ‘It’s a tremendous decision, one that’s likely to be irreversible in a few years’ time. Have you pondered the possibility of growing resentful, of blaming him for denying you motherhood?’

She blinked back a renegade tear, casting a nervous glance around the room, as if fearing our conversation was a spectacle. ‘It’s all I’ve grappled with these past few months,’ she said. ‘I’m certain I won’t blame him.’

My gaze unfocused, shifting to the indistinct distance as I tried to comprehend her perspective. If the woman I loved – if Cara – didn’t want children, how would I react? I was thrown off balance by my lack of certainty. If asked this question half a year ago, the answer would have been straightforward: I would have parted ways with her, citing incompatibility in our desired futures. But, since experiencing life with Cara, I was no longer sure. Could I envision a life, a love beyond her? I found the thought unsettlingly vacant. She had become my beacon, my measure of true affection, and it seemed impossible to imagine another taking her place. So then, would I, like Chloe, have renounced my dream of a family for love?

‘Do you think he’ll take me back?’ Chloe asked then. I nearly laughed at the sheer absurdity of her question.

‘Without hesitation,’ I said, the brim of my teacup meeting my lips. ‘But if you can manage to wait a bit longer, I believe he might come round. He’s been warming to the idea lately, from my understanding.’

She winced, a silent reproach that laid bare my careless remark – it had only served to worsen her inner turmoil.

‘But do tell him,’ I quickly added. ‘I could be wrong; he might never change his mind.’

A nod was her only reply, accompanied by a deep sigh, as she finally reached for a smoked-salmon sandwich from the tiered stand. The sight tugged a faint smile onto my lips, some of my worry ebbing away.

‘And how’s it going with Cara?’ she casually asked, her words muffled by her bite. ‘Made any headway?’

My smile widened, stretching across my face like the Cheshire Cat’s. Our conversations hadn’t veered toward Cara in a while. The last time I had confided in Chloe, my lamentations painted a picture of an aloof Cara and my ongoing struggle to resist making advances at work. But now, we’d shared an unforgettable evening, and the mere thought of any distance between us stirred an unfamiliar ache in my chest.

‘Cara and I went on a date last Friday,’ I announced proudly.

Chloe’s eyes ballooned, her hand covering her mouth. ‘What?’

I nodded. ‘It was lovely – she’s lovely. I can’t remember ever being this happy.’ I found myself confessing to this newfound, almost startling elation that gripped me. This insatiable zest for life, this constant euphoria, was unfamiliar territory for me. I felt an unyielding confidence, an unprecedented invincibility, as though the world was ripe for my taking.

‘William, wow,’ Chloe breathed out, her eyes sparkling with a joy that was wholly for me. ‘I’m so glad. Finally your patience is being rewarded.’

‘Thank you. I feel amazing – all the time. It’s made me realise that… Well, I don’t quite think I’ve ever truly been in love before.’

There was an almost smug twitch to Chloe’s smile, as though my revelation came as no surprise to her – as if, even during my time with my ex, Kate, she had sensed a lack of the depth I now claimed to feel.

‘You don’t say.’

Her reply drew a soft chuckle from me.

‘Have you confessed it, then?’ she continued, tucking some stray strands of her blonde hair behind her ear. ‘Told her you’re in love with her?’

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