The doctor’s office slled faintly of disinfectant and lemon. Too clean, too sharp, like it might slice through my nerves.
The paper on the exam table crinkled beneath , loud in the quiet of the doctor’s office. I clutched the little cup from the urine test like it was a verdict in my hands, waiting for the doctor to read it out as if the two lines on the test at ho hadn’t already scread the truth at weeks ago.
The doctor, a kind-faced woman with intelligent eyes, entered the room with a soft smile. She took my chart from the nurse and glanced at it. "So, you’ve had a positive ho pregnancy test?"
"Yes," I managed, my voice barely a whisper.
She nodded, her gaze steady. "And you’re here for confirmation and to discuss next steps?"
I nodded, my throat tight. Aria gave my hand a reassuring squeeze.
"Alright," the doctor said, pulling up a rolling stool. "Let’s go over everything. First, tell about your last nstrual period."
As I recounted the dates, my mind drifted. The absurdity of the situation hit . Here I was, pregnant with my lover’s child, and my best friend, dressed like she was ready for a red carpet event, was holding my hand.
The doctor’s voice brought back. "And any previous pregnancies or dical conditions I should be aware of?"
"No," I said. "This is my first."
****
The doctor smiled. "Positive. Again."
My throat went tight. That word still felt unreal. Positive. Pregnant.
Then the blood test. A pinch in my arm, the sting of the needle. I tried to listen as the doctor explained hormone levels, hCG, progesterone, blood type, Rh factor, iron, rubella immunity, things I knew I should be absorbing but all I could think was this is happening.
And then the ultrasound machine humd to life.
The gel was cold against my stomach. I shivered, my hand instinctively reaching for Aria’s. She squeezed it, grounding .
"There," the doctor pointed, angling the wand across my belly. A grainy image popped onto the screen, nothing more than a blur to anyone else. But then—flicker. A tiny pulsing light. A heartbeat.
"You’re asuring at Ten weeks," the doctor said gently. "Everything looks healthy."
That’s my baby. My baby. That flicker—tiny embryo—is alive because of . Because of us. And Adrien doesn’t even know. God, how am I supposed to look at him tonight, tomorrow, every day, and not just blurt it out? He’d drop everything—every eting, every schedule, every mask—just to watch that heartbeat with . And I’m sitting here hoarding it like so kind of secret treasure, waiting for the perfect mont, waiting for our wedding like that’s supposed to make it more magical. But isn’t this already magic? He should be here. He deserves to be here. Am I not being greedy?
I didn’t realize I was crying until Aria nudged , whispering, "You’re really doing this, Bella."
I laughed through the tears, then imdiately covered my face with my hands. "Oh my God, Aria... Adrien doesn’t even know yet. I’m keeping this from him and now I’m—" My voice broke. "I can’t help but feel like I am being selfish."
Aria groaned so loudly the doctor side-eyed her. "Girl. Girl. You’re the one who said you wanted this as a wedding surprise. Now you’re sitting here acting like you’ve been betrayed by your own genius plan." She smacked her palm lightly against her forehead for emphasis. "Common, my love. Pick a struggle."
I hiccupped a laugh through tears. "I know. I just—"
She softened, brushing my cheek. "He’s going to lt when he finds out. Trust ."
The doctor handed the ultrasound photo, and before I could even hold it properly, Aria snatched it out of my hands.
"Say cheese, baby bean!" she declared, pulling out her phone. "Auntie Aria’s already your favorite."
She dragged into fra, pressing the printout against my cheek as if it were a VIP badge. The flash went off.
"You’re insane," I laughed, still teary.
"Insanely prepared," she shot back.
By the ti the doctor wrapped up with prenatal advice—no alcohol, no smoking, limit caffeine, iron-rich foods, light exercise—my head was spinning. She handed a prescription for prenatal vitamins, and I tucked it carefully into my purse, holding it like proof of sothing delicate, sothing impossibly precious.
I walked out clutching the future between trembling fingers.
****
The sun outside was warm, but not oppressive. The kind of afternoon that felt like it was holding its breath, waiting for sothing good to happen.
Aria slipped on her sunglasses like she was shielding herself from paparazzi. "Hungry?" she asked, already leading the way to the car.
"Yes," I admitted, rubbing my stomach. "How did you know?"
She shot a smug look over her shoulder. "You were salivating when we passed the checkout and whispered ’hmm tacos’ like a woman possessed."
I groaned. "I didn’t whisper."
"You did," she said, unlocking the car. "It was like a love confession. ’Hmm tacos’ — soft, reverent, tragic."
I slid into the backseat, laughing. "You’re ridiculous."
"I’m observant," she corrected, climbing in beside . "And also starving. So, tacos?"
"Tacos," I agreed, already imagining the warm spice and soft shell, the comfort of sothing simple after sothing monuntal.
Just as the word left my mouth, a blur of movent sliced through the air. A hand shot out of nowhere, yanking at my purse so hard it nearly knocked off balance.
"What the hell—" I gasped, my fingers slipping as the bag tore free.
Aria let out a shriek.
The world snapped back into focus with a jolt of pure, cold adrenaline. The thief was a lanky figure in a grey hoodie, already few feet away.
"Hey! Get back here, you son of a bitch!" Aria yelled, her voice a raw, furious thing I’d rarely heard. She kicked off her ridiculously high heels without a second thought, the expensive stilettos clattering on the asphalt, and was about to sprint after the thief like so avenging angel in sunglasses, when it happened.
Two shadows shot out from the alley like they’d been waiting for this mont. The man didn’t make it three strides before one woman slamd him into the pavent, the other twisting his wrist until he dropped my bag with a pitiful whimper.
The second woman dusted off the leather and turned to . She walked calmly, her boots clicking against the pavent, and stopped in front of and dipped into a low curtsy. Yes. A curtsy. In public. "Forgive the disturbance, ma’am."
My mouth fell open. "...What?"
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