It’s why any child of ours is doomed.

I hold his gaze, feeling like I’m crumbling into pieces. “Let me go, Julian. Please.”

“I can’t.” His face twists, the scars around his eye standing out in stark relief. “I can’t, Nora.”

I swallow painfully, knowing he’s not talking about our physical position. “I’m not asking that of you. Please, I just— I just need a moment.”

He withdraws from me, rolling over onto his back, and I turn away onto my side, gathering my knees to my chest. The nausea that plagued me earlier is gone, but I feel weak. Exhausted. My body aches from Julian’s hard use, and a sense of hopelessness engulfs me, adding to my growing despair.

I’m barely cognizant of Julian getting up. It’s only when he presses a warm washcloth between my legs that I realize he must’ve gone to the bathroom and returned. I don’t have the energy to move, so I lie still and let him clean the residue of sex off my thighs.

Afterwards, he pulls me into his embrace and covers us both with a blanket. As the familiar warmth of his body seeps into me, lulling me to sleep, I dream that I feel the brush of his lips against my temple and hear a whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“As I began to explain last night, this pregnancy was improbable, but not impossible,” Dr. Goldberg says as I sit down on the couch next to Julian. “The morning-after pill is ineffective about five percent of the time, and your probability of being able to conceive a few days after the removal of the old implant was also somewhere in the five-percent range, so if you do the math…” He shrugs, giving me a sheepish smile.

“What about the fact that Nora is still on birth control?” Julian asks, frowning. “She has a new implant in her arm—she’s had it for weeks.”

“Right.” The doctor nods. “We’ll have to remove that as soon as possible and have Nora start taking prenatal vitamins.” He pauses, then adds delicately, “That is, if you want to keep the baby.”

“We do,” Julian responds before I can process the question. “And we want to make sure the child is healthy.” He reaches for my hand and wraps his fingers around my palm, squeezing it possessively. “And Nora, of course.”

Finally comprehending Dr. Goldberg’s words, I glance at Julian. His jaw is set in hard, uncompromising lines. Abortion hadn’t occurred to me as an option, but I’m surprised Julian is so vehemently against it. He claimed not to want children, and I can’t imagine he’d be hypocritical enough to have moral or religious objections to the procedure.

“Of course,” the doctor says. “Obstetrics is not my specialty, but I can examine Nora and remove the implant, and prescribe her the appropriate vitamins. I can also recommend an excellent obstetrician who might agree to oversee Nora’s pregnancy here. I already emailed you her contact info.”

“Good.” Releasing my hand, Julian gets up, looking restless and tense. “I want the absolute best care for Nora.”