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"Morning sickness can be exhausting," the doctor said with understanding. "Try eating slowly. A few crackers can help a lot. There are different ways to ease the nausea, and you’ll find them in one of the pamphlets I gave you. If natural redies don’t work and you’re feeling sick all day, co back, and I’ll prescribe sothing safe. Avoid buying any dicine on your own, as it could be harmful to the baby."

The doctor continued talking, explaining the changes Kira could expect in her body, suggesting books to read, and reminding her that if she was considering ending the pregnancy, she shouldn’t wait too long.

After a long and thorough checkup—urine tests, blood work, a PAP sar, and several other uncomfortable procedures—Kira had stopped paying attention to the explanations. She just wanted to go ho and pretend this day had never happened.

When it was finally over, the doctor sat them down again.

"My receptionist, Vivian, will schedule your next visit. We’ll do an ultrasound to confirm the due date. After that, I’ll need to see you once a month," she said. "Once you’ve had ti to process this, think about joining a single-mother support group. It might help you figure things out."

Kira barely touched her food during the late lunch Becky had dragged her to. Becky had called her boss to say she’d be late returning to work, which made Kira feel guilty. But at the sa ti, she didn’t know how to function properly right now.

"I don’t know what to do," she whispered, staring blankly at the untouched salad in front of her. Becky reached over and squeezed her hand gently.

"Lexi and I will always be here for you," she reassured her.

"Lexi is going to be so disappointed," Kira groaned. Her cousin had always been supportive, but he would have expected more from her than this. Twenty-seven years old and unexpectedly pregnant? This was the kind of mistake they would have worried about in her teenage years, not now when she was finally putting her life together. She was starting to enjoy her new job—it was interesting and challenging. Mr. Whitman was a far better boss than Tesah had been. He was willing to teach her as she worked and was even thankful that she had introduced him to Claudia. They had already been on three dates and were planning another.

Kira hadn’t seen or spoken to Tesah Clover since the day she left his office. Well, she had seen and heard about him—his pictures were all over magazines, always with a new beautiful woman on his arm. People in the office still gossiped about him. But it was as if they had never spent ti together, never shared those monts. It all felt like a distant dream. But now, this baby was proof that it had all been real—with real consequences.

"So, the father isn’t involved at all?" Becky asked cautiously.

"Not at all," Kira replied firmly, making it clear she didn’t want to talk about it. But Becky knew her too well to drop the subject so easily.

"Are you planning to tell him?" she pressed.

"I don’t know. It depends on what I decide to do."

"But if you don’t want the baby, maybe he does," Becky pointed out.

Kira considered that for a mont but then thought about Tesah’s luxurious lifestyle and his endless line of won. A baby wouldn’t fit into that world.

"He won’t want it," she said with certainty.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Becky, you didn’t know him like I did. He doesn’t want this baby."

"So, what are you thinking?"

"I don’t know," Kira admitted, feeling lost. "I just don’t know."

"You have ti to figure it out," Becky said gently. "You don’t have to decide right now."

"I feel so stupid."

"It was an accident. These things happen."

"To teenagers, not to grown won who are supposed to have their lives together. I’ve already failed at so much, Becky. How could I possibly be a good mother? This baby deserves better than ."

"That’s not true," Becky said, a rare hint of frustration in her voice. "You’re kind, caring, and always find a way to move forward, no matter how hard things get. You’ll do the sa now."

"I’ve felt so lost since I stopped baking," Kira confessed. "I tried to pretend I was okay, but the truth is, I still don’t know how to fill that emptiness. I even thought about becoming a dance instructor, but I don’t know if I can handle watching others do what I can’t anymore. It makes feel jealous, and that’s such an ugly feeling. How can I be a good teacher if I don’t want my students to be better than

?"

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