25. Diana

25

DIANA

I sit on the floor of my new furnished studio apartment, sunlight streaming through the bare windows. The golden rays highlight the sparse furnishings, a secondhand rollaway couch, a small table, and a single chair. It's not much, but it's mine. For now.

Exhaustion weighs heavily on my bones as I sit on the lumpy couch and survey the small space. I've done this so many times before, starting over in a new place. But this time feels different. The emotional toll of leaving Lazaro has left me drained in a way I've never experienced.

I close my eyes, trying to summon the optimism that I've always lived by. But it's a struggle. The memories of my time with Lazaro keep intruding. I remind myself that I knew nothing would come of my time with him. I’d known that I was never meant to be a part of that world. Still, the ache in my chest persists.

Opening my eyes, I survey the room again. The sunlight creates an odd atmosphere, one of both possibility and stagnation. It's as if the apartment is waiting for me to decide which path to take. Do I embrace this new beginning, or do I wallow in what I've left behind?

I really thought settling in my new home would help push me forward out of this sadness and exhaustion. Right after I left the D’Amato mansion, I stayed in an efficiency hotel until I found a job as a waitress in a busy diner. The tips have been good, and I was able to get this studio apartment that’s tired but clean and not far from work.

But I’m still feeling lost. In the past, moving on came with the sense of adventure, that I was moving toward something new and exciting. But this time is different. This time, it feels like I'm running from something, or I suppose, from someone.

Lazaro's face flashes in my mind, and I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the image away. I came here for a fresh start, to leave behind the whirlwind of emotions and complications that surrounded my time with the D'Amatos.

It’s been two weeks since I left and I’m no closer to regaining my usual sunny attitude and energy. I’ve attributed this exhaustion to sadness, to the grief of leaving behind what felt like the closest thing to a family I've ever known. But now, I’m forced to consider that it’s something else.

My gaze falls on the small plastic stick lying on the table in front of me. With trembling hands, I pick it up. The pink letters stare back at me.

PREGNANT

Disbelief courses through my veins. This can't be happening.

But it is. The fatigue, the emotional turbulence, the lingering nausea I've been fighting for days now make sense.

I'm pregnant. With Lazaro's child.

My mind races, trying to process the implications of this unexpected development. Here I am, alone in the world, carrying his child.

I know the right thing to do is to tell Lazaro about the baby. Maybe he'd want to know. Maybe he'd care. I'd be wise to insist on financial assistance even if he wasn't interested.

But as quickly as the thought forms, I dismiss it. The D'Amatos won't want anything interfering with Lazaro's marriage to Ava. It's too important for their family, for their business.

A chill runs down my spine as I remember Lana's cold, calculating gaze. How far would they go to keep me away from Lazaro? To keep this baby a secret? The thought of the D'Amatos’ power and influence terrifies me. They could make me disappear without a trace if they wanted to.

No, I can't tell Lazaro. I can't risk it. This baby and I are on our own.

I place a protective hand over my still-flat stomach, steeling my resolve. I've always been a survivor, adapting to whatever life throws at me. This is just another challenge to overcome.

"We'll be okay," I whisper to my unborn child. "I'll figure this out. I always do."

A spark of determination ignites within me. I’ve spent my life looking for my place in the world. A family to belong to. This child is a new beginning, a chance to create the family I've always longed for.

A tiny smile tugs at my lips as I consider the life growing inside me. Despite the complicated circumstances, a sense of wonder and joy begins to blossom in my chest. I'm going to be a mother. I'm bringing a new person into this world, someone who will depend on me, love me unconditionally, and give my life a whole new purpose.

The realization hits me. It's time to put down roots. No more wandering, no more temporary homes. My child deserves stability, and I'm determined to provide it. The thought of raising a baby alone is daunting, but I've faced tougher challenges. I can do this. I will do this.

I stand up, surveying my sparse apartment with new eyes. This space isn't just for me anymore. It's the beginning of a home for my child. Okay, so it’s a bit small, but it will do for now. I’ll look for a better job and work my way up to a one- or two-bedroom apartment. Maybe someday, I’ll be able to get us a little house with a yard.

I’m glad I decided to stay in Chicago instead of running to Minnesota, as was my first instinct. Chicago has better job opportunities, especially in the culinary and hospitality fields. The healthcare system is more robust, which will be crucial for my pregnancy and beyond. Plus, I've already started building a life here, even if it didn't turn out as I'd hoped.

A day later, I blow out a breath as I balance three plates along my arm, weaving through the crowded diner. The lunch rush is in full swing, and the air buzzes with chatter and the clinking of cutlery. I’m tired, but tips have been good so far, and I know a part of that is being friendly and efficient, so I push away the fatigue.

I deliver the loaded burger and BLT to the two businessmen, flashing them a bright smile. "Can I get you anything else?”

“No, thank you,” they mumble absently.

“Enjoy your meal, gentlemen.” As I turn, I spot a regular settling into his usual booth by the window. He’s here nearly every day for lunch, eating alone while he works.

“Good afternoon,” I say as I step up to his table. “Are you ready to order? Do you want your regular order or do you want to try something different?” In the last few weeks I’d served him, he’d always ordered the same. Fried chicken platter and cola.

He looks up at me and smiles. He’s probably in his thirties, handsome, but troubled. Perhaps it’s by all the papers he has in front of him. “The usual.”

“Absolutely.” I glance at his papers. “Are you any closer to getting all your business sorted?”

“Not as close as I’d like.”

“I’ll go get this order in. Fried chicken cheers everyone up.” I put his order in and then get his soda. I return to him, setting the glass along with a straw on the table.

“How are you at organizing?” he asks me, picking up the straw and tearing the paper off it to put it in his glass.

“I’ve organized spices, once by alphabetical order and once by frequency of use,” I joke.

His eyes narrow as he studies me. “Do you like this job?”

I shrug but keep my smile. “You know what they say, it pays the bills.”

“But you have other aspirations?”

My aspirations have always been modest. A job I enjoy. A nice home. A family. I think of the baby growing inside me and the need for better paying employment, preferably with benefits.

“Don’t we all?”

He laughs. “I suppose we do. I can tell you right now, I’m ready to ditch this project. I can’t find the right location or competent staff.”

“It can’t be all that bad,” I say. “Chicago is a big city.”

"It's hard to find someone who's organized, personable, and can think on their feet.” He takes a draw of soda from his straw.

Suddenly, he pauses, his eyes widening as he looks at me. "You know, you might be perfect for this job."

I blink, taken aback by his suggestion. "Me? I’ve always worked around food. Not in an office.”

He shakes his head emphatically. "Nonsense. I've seen how you work. You're efficient, great with people, and I've never seen you lose your cool, even during the busiest rushes."

It's nice to have someone notice a job well done. Isn't that what any of us really want? To be seen and appreciated?

"Plus, you've managed to memorize every regular's order, including mine. That kind of attention to detail is exactly what I need."

“Thank you,” I say, feeling uncertain about where this is going.

“What do you say? Would you be willing to interview to be my personal assistant? The pay is steady and comes with benefits.”

I’m not even sure what he does, but I find that doesn’t matter. It's not just a job he's proposing. It's a lifeline, a chance to build a more stable future for myself and my unborn child. The opportunity sparks a flicker of excitement in my chest, something I haven't felt in weeks.

"I… I don't know what to say.”

He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small notebook and writes something down, ripping out the page. “I’m sorry I don’t have new business cards yet, but here’s my number. Give me a call and we can set up an interview.”

I tuck the paper into my apron pocket. "Thank you.”

“By the way, I’m Peter.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Diana.”

“Tell me you’ll think seriously about this. I’m desperate, Diana.”

I nod. “I’ll definitely think about it."

I leave his table to return to my duties feeling like the universe has given me a gift. My baby and I will be fine. I will find my place. A place for me and the baby to live and thrive.