“The girls will be devastated,” he said quietly. “Is that what you want? To add another loss to their lives?”
It was a low blow, and he regretted it immediately when he saw her flinch.
“That’s not fair.”
“None of this is fair,” he countered. “The press harassment, the team’s ultimatum, your sudden decision to walk away — none of it.”
Sunny’s shoulders slumped, the fight seeming to drain out of her. “I just need some time, Liam. To figure things out.”
“Figure what out?” he pressed, desperation edging into his voice. “What aren’t you telling me, Sunny?”
She looked away, her gaze falling on the partially hidden pharmacy bag. Something flashed across her face — fear, uncertainty, a silent plea he couldn’t interpret.
“Please,” she whispered. “Just give me tonight. We can talk more tomorrow.”
Liam stood frozen, torn between the urge to demand answers and the understanding that pressing harder might only push her further away. The siege mentality that had built throughout the day — a sense of being attacked from all sides — intensified into a crushing pressure.
His career hung by a thread. His daughters were confused and upset. And now Sunny, his unexpected salvation, was preparing to disappear, leaving secrets unspoken between them.
“Fine,” he finally said, his voice hollow. “Tomorrow.”
As he turned to leave, he caught one last glimpse of her — small and vulnerable in the center of the room, arms wrapped protectively around her torso, her face a mask of conflict. He sensed that whatever storm was brewing within her would change everything. Again.
Sunny
The pharmacy bag seemed to pulse with its own heartbeat, a living presence on Sunny’s nightstand that demanded attention. She sat on the edge of her bed, knees pressed together and hands tightly folded in her lap, as if in prayer. Through the window, she could see that darkness had fully claimed the sky, with stars obscured by heavy clouds promising more rain.
The house had fallen eerily quiet after Liam left her room. His retreating footsteps echoed down the hallway, each one driving a small splinter into her heart. The wounded confusion in his eyes when he had discovered her packing haunted her. But she couldn’t tell him — not yet, not until she knew for certain.
You’re just being paranoid, a small voice whispered in her head.Stress can delay periods. So can travel. And emotional upheaval. God knows you’ve had plenty of that lately.
Yet the other symptoms couldn’t be so easily dismissed. The persistent nausea that had plagued her since their return from the Caribbean, which she had initially attributed to travel fatigue. The unusual tenderness in her breasts. The bone-deep exhaustion that crashed over her in waves throughout the day. The heightened emotions that had her tearing up at the slightest provocation, making her want to flee the house.
And most damning of all was the night after their confrontation with Morgan. Theyhad been so lost in each other, so desperate for connection, that protection had become an afterthought.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
She had purchased the test in the morning while picking up groceries. Slipping down the family planning aisle, her heart racing as if she were committing a crime, she had grabbed the most expensive brand, hoping a higher price meant greater accuracy.
Now, hours later, the innocuous white plastic remained sealed in its box, hidden within the crumpled pharmacy bag like a ticking bomb.
Sunny inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with the lavender-scented air from the diffuser she kept by her bed. Her eyes drifted to the half-packed duffel bag — evidence of her panicked impulse to flee. The rational part of her brain, the part not clouded by terror, knew that running wasn’t the answer. But rational thought was becoming increasingly elusive.
“This is ridiculous,” she whispered to the empty room. “Just take the test, idiot. Then you’ll know.”
With trembling fingers, she reached for the bag, the paper crinkling accusingly in the quiet space. She slipped into her private bathroom, locking the door behind her even though she was alone. The fluorescent light buzzed to life, harsh and unforgiving as it illuminated her pallid face in the mirror. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her usually rosy lips were pale and cracked from nervous chewing. She barely recognized herself.
“Get it over with,” she murmured to her reflection.
She tore open the box with mechanical movements, extracting the plastic-wrapped test and unfolding the instruction pamphlet. The clinical language — “urinate on the absorbent tip for 5 seconds” — made the whole process seem surreally ordinary, as if her entire future didn’t hinge on whether lines appeared in a tiny window.
Following theinstructions precisely, Sunny set her phone timer for three minutes and placed the test flat on the counter. Then she began to pace the small confines of the bathroom, taking five steps in one direction before turning and walking five steps back.
Memories flooded back unbidden, washing over her in vivid detail. Liam’s calloused hands, roughened from years of gripping hockey sticks, yet impossibly gentle on her skin. The way he’d whispered her name like a prayer against her collarbone, his breath hot and desperate. The feeling of completeness when they were joined, as if they had both found something they hadn’t realized they were missing.
It had been reckless, impulsive — everything Sunny usually wasn’t. But in that moment, with emotions running high after Morgan’s vitriolic attack, they had sought solace in each other without thought of consequences.
Her timer buzzed, the cheerful melody jarring against her fraught nerves. Sunny gasped, nearly dropping her phone as she fumbled to silence it. For several heartbeats, she stood frozen, unable to look at the small plastic stick that held her future.
