The drive was silent.
Rosie stared out of the window, hands fidgeting in her lap. Arthur gripped the steering wheel tighter than necessary, glancing at her every few minutes but saying nothing. The hospital loomed closer, a quiet, gray building tucked between rows of shops.
Neither of them wanted to be here.
Neither of them knew how to breathe through this.
Arthur parked in the furthest spot in the lot, killing the engine. For a long moment, neither moved.
Finally, Rosie broke the silence."You don't have to come in if you don't want to," she whispered.
Arthur turned to her, his eyes heavy. "I'm not letting you do this alone."
Her chest tightened painfully. She nodded and pushed the door open, stepping into the cold air.
Inside, the fluorescent lights buzzed faintly. The woman at the front desk barely looked up as she handed Rosie a clipboard. Arthur stayed close, his hand brushing hers occasionally, grounding her. She didn't dare look at him—didn't want to see the guilt mirrored in his face.
While Rosie filled out the forms, Arthur sat stiffly beside her.
"This doesn't feel real," he said quietly.
"I know," she replied, voice thin.
When she finished, they sat in uncomfortable silence until her name was called. Rosie stood, legs trembling. She hesitated, then turned to Arthur.
"I want you there."
He nodded, rising to his feet immediately.
They were ushered into a small consultation room. The doctor, a woman with kind eyes, explained the procedure softly, carefully. Rosie barely heard her. She only caught fragments—safe, legal, outpatient, little pain, some bleeding.
When the doctor left to prepare, Arthur reached for her hand.
"You still sure?" he asked, voice rough.
Rosie stared at their joined hands."I don't know," she admitted. "But...what choice do we have?"
Arthur looked pained. "We could keep it. Figure it out. Hide it for a while, maybe."
"And then what?" she snapped, voice breaking. "Face your brother? Jane? The whole fucking world?"
He flinched but didn't argue.
She softened immediately. "I'm sorry. I just... I can't even imagine how to explain this. How to survive it."
Arthur squeezed her hand. "I know."
They fell silent again, but the room felt smaller now, pressing down on them.
Rosie's eyes filled with tears she refused to shed."I feel like a coward," she whispered.
Arthur's thumb brushed the back of her hand. "You're not a coward. You're surviving."
She shook her head, biting her lip so hard it hurt."I wanted it," she confessed. "I wanted a future with you. Some crazy, impossible future."
"I did too," he said roughly.
Their eyes locked. For a second, it was just them—no mistakes, no pressure, just the raw, broken love between them.
Then the nurse knocked and entered with final papers.
It was time.
Rosie signed them with a hand that barely worked. Arthur signed as her support person, his name scrawled messily beneath hers.
An hour later, it was done.
Rosie walked out of the hospital pale and hollow, wearing oversized sunglasses even though the sun was hidden behind clouds. Arthur kept a protective hand on her lower back, guiding her gently to the car.
They didn't speak.
They didn't need to.
Their hearts were screaming louder than any words.
Back at the mansion, everything felt too loud—the birds, the breeze, even the sound of the tires crunching the driveway.
Arthur parked near the side entrance, away from the main door. Rosie sat frozen in her seat.
"Come on," Arthur said softly. "Let's get inside."
She nodded numbly.
Inside, they moved like ghosts. Their steps light, careful, almost guilty. The house was quiet—too quiet. Rosie half-expected Jane to pop out from behind a door, asking where they'd been.
They crept upstairs like teenagers sneaking in past curfew.
When they got to Rosie's room, she turned to Arthur, panic flashing across her face.
"What if they know?" she whispered.
Arthur shook his head. "They don't. We'll be careful."
Still, they barely breathed.
Rosie curled up on her bed, wrapping a blanket around herself like armor. Arthur sat beside her, pulling her close. For a while, they just sat there, listening to the clock tick.
Her stomach grumbled faintly.
Arthur chuckled under his breath. "You haven't eaten all day."
She shrugged. "Not hungry."
"You need something."
"I'll get something later," she murmured.
True to her word, around midnight, Rosie tiptoed to the kitchen in pajama shorts and a hoodie. Arthur followed. They raided the fridge, making messy sandwiches in the dim light.
They sat on the floor, backs against the cabinets, chewing in silence.
"I feel sick," Rosie said after a few bites.
Arthur took the sandwich from her gently. "Then don't force it."
She dropped her head against his shoulder. "What are we gonna do now?"
He kissed the top of her head. "We're gonna breathe. One day at a time."
She closed her eyes. "I don't want to lose you."
"You won't."
"But what if everything changes?" she whispered.
Arthur tilted her chin up so she had to look at him. "Everything already has. But we're still here."
Her chest ached with love and fear.
They stayed there a long time, watching the clock tick toward two in the morning.
Downstairs, however, suspicion was brewing.
Earlier that evening, Jane had noticed Rosie barely touching her dinner, her face pale and distant. Arthur had been no better—jumping when anyone spoke too loud, dropping his fork more than once.
Now, curled up with Charles in bed, Jane frowned up at the ceiling.
"Something's weird," she murmured.
Charles turned over to face her. "Weird how?"
"Rosie and Arthur. They're...off. Don't you feel it?"
Charles shrugged. "Maybe they're just tired."
She sighed. "I don't know. It's like they're hiding something."
Charles hesitated. Then he said, "I'll keep an eye out."
Which led him, the next afternoon, to call Sam—their longtime cook and occasional driver—into the study.
"Sam," Charles said casually, swirling a glass of whiskey. "You saw Arthur and Rosie leave yesterday, right?"
Sam nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Any idea where they went?"
Sam looked uncomfortable. "No, sir. They just said they'd be back later."
Charles leaned forward, voice low. "Next time they go out...I want you to follow them."
Sam stiffened. "Sir—"
"Just discreetly," Charles interrupted. "Nothing crazy. Just see where they're going."
Sam hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Alright."
Charles smiled thinly. "Good man."
He took a long sip of his drink as Sam left.
Something was definitely going on.And he intended to find out exactly what it was.
Meanwhile, Rosie and Arthur spent the rest of the night in her room.
Arthur sat against the wall beneath the window, knees pulled up. Rosie lay curled sideways across his lap, head resting on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
For a long time, they said nothing.
Finally, Rosie whispered, "Do you think we'll regret it?"
Arthur tightened his arms around her."Maybe," he admitted. "But not as much as we'd regret ruining our lives before they even started."
Tears prickled her eyes again."I feel like part of me is missing now."
Arthur kissed her hair. "I know."
She sniffled."I wanted to be strong enough to keep it."
"You are strong," he said fiercely. "This isn't weakness, Rosie. This is survival."
She buried her face in his chest."I just wish things were different."
"Me too."
They sat there until dawn, tangled together, hearts bruised but still beating.
And neither of them saw the shadow of suspicion already growing downstairs.