Page 56 of Unravelling: Aria & Crispin
A rapid, fluttering rhythm filled the room as the sonographer turned a dial. Aria's eyes met Lule's, wide and shining.
Lule's eyes were suspiciously bright as she whispered, "Oh my days!"
The breath caught in her throat. This made it all real.
The sonographer smiled and printed a small image. "If you're alright with it, we'll do a transvaginal scan now to get a more accurate age."
Aria hesitated, then nodded.
She made it to the toilet in record time and emptied her bladder. Then she lay back again. The probe was uncomfortable with its slow internal movement paired with the sonographer's dictation, "Uterus anteverted... Crown-rump length... normally sited..."
"A little over nine weeks," the sonographer said with a smile. "You'll be offered an anomaly scan between eighteen and twenty weeks. The appointment will be in the post."
When they left the room in a daze, Aria held the scan photo like it might disappear. Lule took her hand as they silently walked to the exit.
Back home, Aria placed the printout on the fridge, fixing it there with a tiny magnet shaped like a croissant.
She stared at it for a long moment.
"My little jellybean," she whispered, touching the tiny dot on the shiny paper.
Then she went to bed, and for the first time in weeks, slept through the night.
Chapter 30
Aria
One day merged seamlessly with the next. The warm days of summer had arrived, and Aria's time passed in a strangely contented haze. The future was unknown, but it didn't seem to matter as much.
Aria still had no luck with job applications, and she kept scrolling through listings late into the night, but for now, work at the café continued and life felt momentarily bearable. She started looking forward to Crispin's messages. It was embarrassing that she was beginning to soften in spite of what he and his family had put her through. Was her spine made of jelly? His messages had lost their perfunctory note from before and had taken on a warm intensity that reached her despite the distance between them. A single "Good morning" could make her blush like a schoolgirl, and she'd find herself checking her phone on breaks with a flutter of hope in her stomach. It was like he was courting her in reverse.
She didn't reply to a single message, but she read them all.
It was on a balmy Tuesday morning, the kind that draped the city in a blanket woven from sunbeams. Aria was clearing a table near the back, so she didn't notice when the glass door of the café swung open with too much purpose. It wasn't until she turned, wiping her hands on her apron, that she saw the woman seated by the window.
White linen jumpsuit, impossibly pristine against the window dappled by shadows from the tree just outside. Blond hair falling in a perfect waterfall, held back with a mother-of-pearl clip. A vision of control and effortlessness.
Helga.
Aria blinked, uncertain. She walked over, notebook in hand. "Can I get you something?"
Helga didn't look up right away. When she did, her smile was slow and cold. "A matcha latte. Oat milk. No foam."
Aria nodded and turned to prepare the order, a prickle rising along her neck as eyes followed her progress.
Helga was scrolling on her phone when Aria brought her latte to the table. She accepted the drink without thanks, took a dainty sip, and then set it down.
"I never thought I'd find you here," she said, tone conversational. "Though I suppose it makes sense... This place suits you."
It wasn't a compliment.
Aria said nothing.
Helga stirred her drink slowly. "You know, when you first came up in conversation, I thought Crispin was joking. Cleaning girl. I assumed it was some half-baked rebellion. His family thought so, too."
Crispin had talked about her to his family?
A customer nearby coughed. The café murmured with low background noise, but the space around Helga's table felt suspended.
