Early December, c. 12th 2026
Distinctly, Melissa Adriana Hayes could recall a time when her best friend had not been there to hold her hand. It had been cited at the time as irreconcilable differences and they’d divorced themselves from their friendship for well over a year. In that time, things had changed and like good boomerangs they returned to each other. They were a little different than before. They were somewhat taller, a little fairer and bitterly changed into different people, aged irrevocably by heartache. Yet, some small measure of happiness had weaved itself back into their lives and the rings clasped around their fingers were proof of this. Whilst reservations were still deeply held and very much of what they’d done was done on a self-preservative spur, they were beginning to find their happiness with their partners: Millie with Kieran and Gis with Della. They were whole again.
That morning, a watery sunshine had peeked through the curtains and the aforementioned couple woke, curling sleepily into each other as both realised that the world beyond their cocoon of bed and each other’s arms existed and called for them. Thursday was an unavoidable fate for them and while her husband had to go forth and educate, Melissa’s lazy timetable - which catered to her whims when it came to the institution of learnedness she was in - allowed her to sleep in for a few hours more. However, when she woke again she knew it was not to classes she would spring. She had led Kieran quite calmly to believe that she would be in Diagon Alley for the day - Christmas shopping with Gisele. While this wasn’t strictly a lie it wasn’t quite truth either. No doubt they’d go into the al fresco shopping centre but certainly not to do any shopping.
The girls had breakfast in Hogsmeade, Della having dropped off her wife to Millie’s care for the day, and after swaying on both sides of acting or not acting on her nausea, Millie elected that they press on: so it was off to St. Mungo’s they went - hats, coats, scarves and all.
Upon arriving, something in Millie’s stomach dropped through to her gut and she felt her fight or flight program begin to boot up within her. It was then that she grasped at Gisele’s hand, curling her fingers around her friends’ and casting a glance at her before continuing on, ever the fighter. She needed Gisele, though. She daren’t press Kieran. Happy though they were, her concern wasn’t something she wanted to burden him with. It wasn’t her place - married or not. They should have been more careful, more consistent. She should have known better, never mind him and his sense of moral correctness which was badly rushed askew by her prodding. Both parties stood at fault if it turned out her ‘woman’s intuition’ was not unfounded and unrealistic. But of course, she knew. She’d been down a similar slippery road before. Only that time--
“Gis, I can’t do this,” Millie exhaled out her words in a rush as the elevator doors opened, revealing the third floor to them which was a rush of pregnant, non-pregnant and child-laden women. Colour, stickiness and sweets were wild abound everywhere she looked and it was nigh impossible to avoid. Even the walls were scraped with offensive hues of the primary colours. In the end though, they had to go along to the appropriate place, in the line where Millie signed in and then they could take their seats. Even once settled, Millie couldn’t quell her nervousness.
There were so many, unrecognised fears in her and the only one she could voice as she looked at Gisele was this: “What if he doesn’t want me?”
After everything, surely that would clinch it and spiral them to failure. They’d been getting along far too well for anything in the way of sense to take hold. The rush to try and build something that looked vaguely like marriage had resulted in something very much like marriage and the by-products that had a tendency of coming of it: children. But just like the marriage, what if they weren’t wanted? What if it brought out a deeply held disdain that he’d quietly been coveting for her? What if he was contented by the children but not the wife that was the vessel? What if he wanted neither? What if it would be his cue to desert their marriage? The requisites were over and done with. Marriage? Check. Offspring? Double check.
Why would he want to stay?