Beauty Of Childbearing

Zara sat on the hospital chair, her eyes fixed on the clock ticking away on the wall. She wore a nose mask to protect herself and to avoid any controversy in case someone recognized her as Zane, the popular actress.

But why didn't she know Zane?

Zara didn't have the time to watch movies since she was often busy with work.

She had been waiting for what felt like an eternity.

The hospital air was thick with the scent of disinfectant and anxiety. Zara scanned the hospital and noticed some pregnant women with their husbands, while others were already getting old and had come with their families.

Zara sighed for the umpteenth time since she arrived at the hospital. Her hands grazed her stomach unconsciously, and the person sitting next to her thought she was also going to have a baby, but to Zara, she might or might not live to see her own baby.

"Are you also expecting?" a woman in her early-twenties asked.

Zara turned her head to see the lady, who was breathtakingly beautiful.

Her radiant presence commanded attention, despite her simple black dress. Her skin glowed with a warm, golden undertone like honey-kissed porcelain.

Her raven black hair cascaded down and curved like a bob. High cheekbones and full lips that curved into a perpetual smile complemented her features. Her rich brown eyes stared at her joyfully like she had met a newfound friend.

"Expecting what?" Zara asked in confusion, not understanding what the lady said.

"A baby," the woman replied, her eyes gleaming knowingly as her face lit up.

Zara chuckled softly at the lady's words. Her mouth ached after a hearty laugh. "A baby?" she questioned ironically.

Zara batted her eyelashes, her face pale. Nothing sounded so funny to the lady, who wondered why Zara was laughing so hard.

"I am not having a baby," Zara said, waving her hand dismissively, a smile plastered on her face.

"Oh, you're here for a test then. Don't worry, I'm sure you'll go home with beautiful news for your husband," the woman said, as she rubbed her belly, her eyes focused on her stomach.

Zara gazed down at what the woman was looking at and noticed her baby bump. A mix of surprise and longing flickered across Zara's face as she realized the woman was pregnant.

She noticed how the woman grazed her belly with a gentle touch and also saw the look of joy on the woman's face.

Her expression softened, her lips curving into a warm, wistful smile. Her eyes, however, betrayed a deeper emotion—a hint of envy, and a dash of longing.

As their eyes met, the woman's gaze was filled with happiness, oblivious to Zara's inner turmoil.

Zara's eyes lingered on the woman's radiant face, and all she could see was a young, expectant mother who couldn't wait to cradle her baby in her hands.

"You know, I was anxious when I found out I was pregnant with Jasper," the lady said with a big smile, drawing Zara out of her thoughts.

"You gave your baby a name already?" Zara pondered, her mouth dropping wide open, her eyes filled with curiosity.

"Isn't it cute?" the lady said, and both of them couldn't help but laugh.

"I can't believe I wanted to ditch my baby, but I'm glad I kept my treasure," she paused, as if recalling an old feeling.

"You know, having a baby is a beautiful thing. The beauty of childbearing is something every woman would want to experience. It can be strenuous at times, but the unrelenting joy is knowing you're carrying a baby inside you. The first gentle kick, the soft whispers of a heartbeat, and the tender touch of tiny hands—they are all beautiful. Just imagine it as a blossoming, vibrant garden where every flower grows into hues of love, warmth, and nurturing. And I do hope you won't regret the decision you want to make," the lady said, eyes gleaming with happiness and putting an end to Zara's imagination.

"Regret? I don't get it," Zara asked, creasing her brows, her mind a jumbled mess of questions.

The lady leaned toward Zara and whispered, "I mean, you should keep the baby."

Zara couldn't help but burst out laughing. The laugh gradually turned into a tear. Tears shimmered at the corners of her eyes, but she managed to hold them back. She blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears from falling.

"What is your name?" Zara's eyes scanned the lady, who seemed to be in her early twenties.

A nurse in crisp scrubs emerged from the double doors, a clipboard in her hand.

"Zara Blackwood?" she called out, drawing Zara from her conversation with the pregnant lady. Instantly, Zara knew they were calling her.

"Adeline... Adeline Reynolds," she said with a huge smile, hoping Zara would change her mind about aborting her baby.

"I need to go now," Zara said, standing up.

"All right, Zara," she said, her eyes filled with hope. She watched as Zara stood up, and it suddenly dawned on her that Zara looked familiar, like she had seen her somewhere before. She was about to ask before the nurse called Zara's name again.

Zara couldn't help but smile, knowing full well that Adeline was mistaken about her being pregnant, but she loved the thought the most.

Zara took a deep breath, relaxing her once tense muscles.

"That's me," she said, raising her hand.

"Right this way, please. The doctor will be with you shortly," the nurse said, and instantly, Zara followed the nurse from behind, her pulse quickening.

Zara waited in his office until the doctor came in.

"Sorry for the delay, Miss Zara," Mr. Smith said, taking a seat in front of Zara.

"No worries, Doctor Smith," Zara replied, her voice steady despite the nervousness she was feeling, her legs constantly shaking.

"So, Miss Blackwood, would you like to be admitted to the hospital?" the doctor asked as he searched for a file.

Zara sat silently, peeling her fingers even though she could feel the pain.

"Miss Blackwood," he called out as he noticed Zara spacing out. He called her a few times before she answered.

Zara jolted out of her thoughts, staring at Mr. Smith with a downcast gaze.

"Would you like to be admitted to our hospital and receive the chemotherapy? I believe it's best if you stay here so the nurses can watch over you," he said.

Zara didn't know how to explain to the doctor that she didn't come here to be admitted but instead to take another test.

Sitting upright, she said, "No... no, I don't think that is necessary. I... would like to run another test," she finally said, feeling relieved as though a burden had been lifted from her neck. She silently hoped that the test would prove negative this time.

She saw a flicker of doubt in Mr. Smith's eye, but he was quick to cover it with hopefulness.

Zara took the test and had to wait for an hour in the doctor's patient room.

It felt like an eternity as she sat down, and a nurse came to serve her a snack.

She was reluctant to eat it, as her main focus was to see if what the mysterious old woman said was true. But on second thought, she knew there was a possibility that she was still diagnosed with glioblastoma.

She sighed for the umpteenth time and rested her head against the armrest.

After what felt like centuries to Zara, she heard the door click open, and a nurse called her.

She sat down on the single chair that was facing the doctor. Mr. Smith handed over the test result.

Without wasting a second, she opened the paper, her heart beating fast as she prayed with hope that she was healed, but...