Chapter 11

Narrative: Nathan Ellis

I rode the bus to work with my earbuds in, still making my way through Kiara’s backlog of podcasts. I hadn’t reached her latest episodes yet—there was plenty left to explore—but I remained resolved to catch up completely and join her for future installments. The experience filled me with exhilaration, a thrilling sense of belonging in the world she crafted through her words.

Kiara was not feeling well today, so I insisted she stay home and rest. As I listened to her podcasts during my commute, a profound comfort washed over me—her voice resonated as if she were speaking only to me, bridging the distance between us.

“You know y’all, I’m just tired,” Kiara’s voice came through my earbuds as the bus rumbled along, her tone weary yet resilient. I leaned in closer to listen, captivated by every word. “I just wanna walk down the street and be myself—I mean really be me. Go into a café, have someone ask politely, ‘How may I help you?’ get my coffee with a smile, find a seat, and drink in peace.”

Her voice grew more impassioned as she continued. “And when I glance around that room? I don’t want to see faces studying me like I’m some intruder who doesn’t belong there.”

Was this really how she feels? Wherever she goes, she scrutinised somehow?

I could feel her emotions pouring out as if she were seated next to me. “I don’t want to hate on anyone—not whites, not blacks, Asians or Indians,” she declared passionately. “I’ve spent the last ten years fighting, and I know I’m not done yet.”

Narrative: Kiara Washington

I felt nauseous this morning; the wave hit me the moment I got out of bed. As my legs buckled beneath me, Nathan’s strong arms caught me, holding me tightly against him.

A couple of weeks had slipped by since that night Nathan finally broke down and wept in my arms. Ever since then, he’d been staying with me while Lyra occupied his place—a complicated arrangement we still hadn’t sorted out.

Although Lyra’s presence lingered like an unresolved chord between us, none of us had gathered the courage to fully address it. We still needed that honest conversation where every note would harmonize into something we all found acceptable.

I had every intention of heading to work that morning, but Nathan wouldn’t hear of it. He insisted I remain home, even calling my office on my behalf. And as I surrendered to his care, I felt my heart opening completely—allowing him to claim it fully.

I had been hesitant to record another podcast because of the overwhelming backlash I received after my previous episode. Yet, not every response was negative; among the harsh criticism were some kind notes from former detractors who genuinely congratulated me on my engagement with Nathan.

As I combed through the supportive messages, desperately seeking solace in their kindness, my stomach suddenly twisted into a knot. My hand flew to my mouth as I stumbled toward the bathroom. I hunched over the toilet, bracing for a violent purge, but only a ragged, dry cough emerged from my throat.

I lingered there on the cool tile, muscles tensed, anticipating another wave.

Narrative: Nathan Ellis

As I sat at my desk, my mind lingered on the many colleagues who had wished Kiara a swift recovery. I knew sharing those messages with her would offer some comfort amid her worries. Ever since her last podcast, she had grown hesitant about recording another one, haunted by the backlash. I encouraged her to wait until she felt ready to begin again, hoping that reassurance might ease her doubts.

Her podcast was her domain, and I adored watching her transform into a captivating performer. She possessed an innate ability to entertain, lighting up the room with her wit and humor.

Alone at the café, I settled in with a light lunch and coffee. Pulling out my phone, I dialed Kiara’s number. When she answered with a bright “Hey baby!” her warm greeting instantly lifted my spirits. Testing the waters, I replied casually with “Hey honey,” wondering if that term of endearment suited us yet.

“Don’t call me that, I’m not white,” she said, confirming my suspicions. “Okay, babe?” I ventured cautiously. “Hmm, we’ll work on it,” she replied.

I asked with concern, “How are you feeling?” Kiara sighed wearily into the phone. “I got nauseous again—I thought I’d vomit nonstop—but nothing actually came up.” I paused mid-bite, lowering my utensils.

I told her everyone at work was sending their best wishes, she paused before she responded softly, “Tell them thank you.” Without missing a beat, I quickly added, “I will.”

“Urgh...” I heard her say, “you okay? Honey, I mean babe”—oh crap—but then silence fell, save for hurried footsteps followed by a sickening heave. The phone must have been clutched tight in her hand; the sound hit me clear and raw.

A muffled cry reached me through the phone, then her voice came again, thick with tears. “Nothing’s coming out,” she said, each word laced with anguish. That raw pain seared right through me. Quickly, I offered, “I’ll try to leave early, okay?” There was a brief pause before she responded quietly with an “Okay” and then abruptly ended the call without another word.

I left work early, a nagging unease urging me to pick up something for Kiara. Something felt off about her body. Rushing home, I pushed through the front door and found her already asleep in bed. My heart clenched seeing her so drained. I crept to her bedside and brushed a tender kiss on her lips. Her eyes fluttered open at the touch, breaking into a weary smile as she saw me there.

“Hey baby,” she murmured, her voice soft as sleep still clung to her. I smiled down at her, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “How are you feeling?” Her answer came bluntly. “Like shit.” I let out a chuckle, holding up the small bag I’d brought home. When she saw what was inside, her eyes widened in surprise.

“What’s this for?” she asked, eyeing the pregnancy test. “I think we should confirm what I suspect is happening with your body,” I said carefully.

“You think?” she asked, tilting her head inquisitively. I nodded slowly. “I’ve noticed a few changes ... little things that make me wonder.”

Narrative: Kiara Washington

After peeing on the stick, I set the test on the nightstand. Nathan and I sat together in tense silence, waiting for the results. He kept craning his neck to peek at it, until finally I snapped, “Stop it—just wait.”

“How long has it been?” Nathan asked as I glanced at the timer. “Three minutes and twenty seconds left.” He nodded slowly. “Eleven years we’ve been apart and we can’t even wait five minutes,” he mused quietly. I shot him an irritated glare. “Shut up Nathan, I’m trying to stay calm here.”

“Time’s up,” I announced, unable to bear the suspense any longer. Nathan hesitated before asking in a shaky voice, “Want me to check?” “Please,” I urged, desperate for an answer despite my mounting anxiety. With a nod he reached for the test on the nightstand. His brow furrowed as he examined it closely.

“What is it?” I demanded, my patience wearing thin. “I think we should have read the instructions properly,” he muttered uncertainly. Rolling my eyes at his hesitation, I pressed, “What do you see?” He swallowed hard before meeting my gaze. “Two lines,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

I ripped the test from his grasp, confirming the undeniable truth of those two lines. “Read the instructions again,” I insisted frantically, watching him struggle with the folded paper. What had seemed like a small booklet now unfolded into an enormous sheet, its vast expanse of text suddenly overwhelming.

Nathan scanned the instructions urgently, hunting for answers. “Oh, here it is,” he muttered, pointing to a line. “Two clear lines mean positive.” His head jerked up and our eyes locked in stunned silence before we both choked out, “Positive?”

“You mean?” I said as Nathan interjected, “We’re pregnant,” he confirmed. “You need to see the doctor to confirm,” he added as I nodded. “I’ll make a booking tomorrow,” he said and pulled out his phone to make the arrangement.

My eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and Nathan noticed immediately. He set the phone aside and gently cradled my face in his hands, resting his forehead against mine. “We’re going to be parents, Kiara,” he murmured softly. Then he leaned in and kissed me with such tenderness that I melted into his embrace, a choked laugh escaping my lips as joy overwhelmed me.

Narrative: Nathan Ellis

A few days later, after the initial shock of seeing those two lines, I’d scheduled a doctor’s visit. They confirmed what we already knew - Kiara was carrying my child. The reality of it settled deep within me, leaving me awestruck and anxious all at once.

Curled up on the sofa at home, I rested my hand lightly on Kiara’s belly. “What do you think?” I asked quietly. “Boy or girl?” She shrugged, her tone easy and unconcerned. “I’m not fussed. I just want a healthy baby.” I nodded slowly, my mind echoing in silent agreement: absolutely.

“You know, thinking back on it, your parents’ words came to mind—when they mentioned the challenges a mixed-race child would face,” she said as tension coiled through me. It was one of the many arguments my parents had used to try to tear us apart.

“Yeah,” I said in understanding, “and I’m certain they’d love their grandchild regardless.” Then, shifting topics carefully, I asked, “Speaking of family, when will I get to meet yours properly? We’ve only ever video-called so far.”

“Hmm, after the baby is born maybe,” she teased, her eyes glinting playfully. “Do they even know you’re back with me?” I pressed, my voice edged with concern. She gave a small shake of her head, and I felt unease knotting my stomach. “Would they cause trouble if they found out?”