The Doorway

I’m standing in the doorway, watching her tear-streaked face: anger, desperation, fear, all tangled together. The weight of the argument presses down on us. The cabin feels too small to hold what’s breaking between us.

"You can’t," she breathes, her voice wrecked.

"I have to," I rasp. My head pounds. Twenty-seven years of headaches, and I’m no better at handling them. The baby’s coming. Soon. Too soon. A reminder of the world we are bringing them into.

"You fucker!" she sobs. "You can’t leave me here. You can’t leave me alone."

"You think I want this? I didn’t do this to us. You know who is responsible."

Her eyes go cold. She whispers: "Fuck you." And again, harder: "Fuck. You."

I clench my fists. “I can’t…” The words catch in my throat, but I swallow. "I can’t fucking do this right now. It’s late and we’re running out of time”

The words cut. She’s terrified. I’m terrified. But we’re out of time. This is just how it is.

"Another excuse," she spits. "You want to leave. You always have. This is your out. Leave me and the baby in this shithole and go live the life you have been dreaming about since we got here."

Guilt claws at me. I never wanted to leave her. I brought her here because I love her. I wanted to propose before everything went to hell.

"That's not true, and you know it," I plead. My voice shreds like glass in a blender. 37 weeks, or maybe 38. I'm not sure how long it's been. I'm not sure of anything anymore.

She rises and blocks the doorway. Her hands shake. I want to pull her close. Tell her it will be okay. But we have postponed this decision too long.

"Prove it," she says. "Find another way. We can fix this. Together."

Tears blur our vision. It’s too much.

"We can’t," I whisper. "This has gone too far."

"Then stay one more night," she begs. "Stay here. I need you. I can’t do this without you."

She touches my cheek, eyes pleading. My heart shreds inside my chest.

"I can’t" I murmur. “I don’t have a choice. For you and the baby.”

Silence.

“All I’ve ever wanted since I met you is to love you,” I say softly. “That’s why I brought you here.”

I reach into my pocket and thumb the ring. Its cold and heavy. It feels wrong, but I pull it out anyway. Her eyes widen, caught between disbelief and heartbreak. The words she’s about to say catch in her throat.

For a moment, neither of us speaks.

Then I glance, just once, toward the dead body slumped in the cabin’s corner.

The reason we can’t stay. The reason none of this matters the way it was supposed to.

I turn my head back to her and take one last lingering look, and step out into the unforgiving landscape, leaving behind the warmth of the cabin and the wreckage of what we were.

Winter clamps down, merciless. The weight of what we’ve lost and the unknown are what I walk toward. As I tread into the darkness, the echoes of broken promises haunt me, mingling with the anticipation of new life and the bitter taste of what could have been. I can feel her gaze burning into my back, her judgment, her fear. The echoes of what could have been trail me as I disappear into the dark.