The nausea doesn't go away.
By noon, I've thrown up twice and blamed it on anxiety, on the stress finally leaving my body, on something I ate. Devon hovers, concerned, and I wave him off.
"I'm fine. Probably a bug."
But my hands are shaking when I shut myself in the bathroom.
I stare at the cabinet beneath the sink where I've tucked a pregnancy test just in case this day came.
Don't do this to yourself, I think.You'll only be disappointed.
But my body is screaming at me now—the tenderness, the dizziness, the way smells have become overwhelming in the past week. Devon's cologne made me gag yesterday, and I'd blamed it on stress.
I know better.
I grab the box from the cabinet and pull out a test, my hands trembling.
I survived Mila's cruelty and Devon's betrayal, and my own relentless inner critic. I stood in a coffee shop and took on a bully with nothing but my words.
This body—with its flab and its flaws—has carried me through everything.
And it might carry something else now, too.
Please, God.
I take the test with quivering hands and set it on the counter. Three minutes. That's all it takes to change a life.
I count the seconds and watch the bathroom tiles blur through tears I can't explain. My hand presses against my stomach, and I try not to imagine what might be growing there.
Don't hope. Don't hope. Don't?—
I peek at the test.
Two lines—and they’re pink, clear, and utterly unmistakable.
A sound escapes me—half sob, half laugh, something broken yet beautiful. My knees buckle and I sink to the bathroom floor, the test clutched in my fist, tears streaming down my face.
Thiscan'tbe real!
After wanting this for so long. After watching Mila try to usemotherhood against me, using pregnancy as a lie to destroy what I wanted most?—
It's real.
I'm pregnant.
The bathroom door flies open.
"Jade?!" Devon's voice is panicked. "I heard you fall—are you hurt? Talk to me. What happened?"
I can't speak. I hold up the test, my hand shaking so badly I can barely keep it steady.
Devon freezes in the doorway.
His eyes drop to the white plastic stick in my fingers. The two pink lines visible even from where he stands.
"Is that—" His voice breaks. He tries again. “Jade, is that what I think?—"
I nod, tears streaming down my cheeks, and a sound rips from Devon's throat that I've never heard before—a sound between a whoop and a sob.
