The last question makes my stomach drop. “I…yes. Actually, I think I might have missed my last period.”
“When was your last menstrual cycle?”
I try to calculate, but the weeks blur together. “I can’t recall, doctor.”
Dr. Patterson sets down his tablet and looks at me directly. “Mrs. Moretti, given your symptoms and the timeline you’ve described, we should run a pregnancy test.”
“A pregnancy test?” The words come out strangled. “I didn’t think…I mean, we weren’t trying…”
“It’s just a precaution. Better to rule it out so we can properly address your symptoms.”
My hands start shaking. “How long will it take?”
“Just a few minutes for the initial test. If it’s positive, we’ll do a blood draw to confirm and check hormone levels.”
He steps out to get supplies, leaving me alone with the possibility that’s suddenly crashed into my carefully ordered world. Pregnant. With Alaric’s child.
Dr. Patterson returns with a small plastic cup and clear instructions. Five minutes later, I’m sitting on the examination table, staring at a test strip that will determine the direction of my entire future.
“Positive,” Dr. Patterson announces, holding up the test. “Congratulations, Mrs. Moretti.”
What the fuck. Pregnant. Actually pregnant.
“I need to do a blood draw to confirm and get accurate hormone levels,” he continues, already preparing the needle. “We’ll also need to change your current medications. Some of what you’re taking for pain management isn’t safe during pregnancy.”
“Change medications?”
“The anti-inflammatory you’ve been taking can cause complications. We’ll switch you to something pregnancy-safe. You’ll also need to start prenatal vitamins immediately.”
My mind struggles to process the practical details while the larger reality slowly sinks in. A baby. Alaric’s baby.
“How far along?” I manage to ask.
“Based on your last period, approximately five to six weeks. We’ll do an ultrasound next week to get a more precise timeline and make sure everything is developing normally.”
Five to six weeks. Which means conception happened right around the time of the Miami trip, that night when Alaric claimed me, made me his.
“Mrs. Moretti, are you alright?”
“I’m just…processing. This wasn’t planned.”
“Many pregnancies aren’t. But you’re young, healthy, and have excellent medical support. There’s no reason this can’t be a perfectly normal pregnancy.”
“What about my shoulder? The injury?”
“Shouldn’t affect anything. The healing is progressing beautifully, and by the time you’re ready to deliver, you’ll be at full strength.”
Dr. Patterson finishes drawing blood and applies a small bandage to my arm. “I’ll have the lab results by tomorrow, but the home test is quite reliable. In the meantime, start taking prenatal vitamins and avoid alcohol completely.”
“Of course.”
“Do you have any other questions?”
A thousand questions crowd my mind, but none of them are medical. How do I tell Alaric? How do we protect a child in our world? What happens when our enemies learn about this vulnerability?
“No questions right now.”
“Excellent. Schedule a follow-up for next week, and call if you experience any unusual symptoms. Congratulations again, Mrs. Moretti.”
