I shut my eyes with a groan, pressing the heels of my palms against my forehead.
What have I gotten myself into?
The room feels too quiet, the ticking of the timer filling the space around me. My thoughts race, spiraling in a way I can’t control. Every scenario plays out in my head—what if the test is positive? What would that mean for me? For my life? For everything I’ve worked for?
And then there’s him—Lukin. The thought of him makes my chest tighten. I’ve tried to block him out, to pretend likenothing happened, but I can’t. He’s still there, lingering in my mind, a constant presence that won’t let me forget.
I haven’t seen him in over two months and my brain hasn’t registered it yet, that it’s over. Our little fling is over. Thank goodness. I can’t imagine seeing him again. That man makes me do reckless things.
I take another shaky breath, trying to calm myself. The timer on the kit goes off, and I force my eyes open, not sure if I’m ready to see what’s staring back at me.
I don’t want to look. I don’t want to know. But the little window on the test stares back at me, and I can feel it, the weight of it, even before I glance down.
I do it anyway. I force my eyes to the kit, and there it is—the two pink lines. Clear. Undeniable.
Pregnant.
The word flashes in my mind, over and over again, and I can’t process it. For a moment, the room spins. I’m barely aware of my body sinking to the floor, my knees buckling as I land with a thud. My hands are shaking so badly I can’t even hold the test anymore. I drop it on the floor, my head in my hands, trying to breathe through the panic that’s rising in my chest.
How did this happen?
I try to tell myself it’s not real, that maybe there’s some mistake. But I know it’s true. It’s right there, staring back at me. And all I can think of is him. Lukin.
Maria’s father.
What does this mean for me? I’m not ready for this. I can’t be. I don’t know how to cope with this, with everything that’s changed in an instant. The future I thought I had planned—my work, my life—feels like it’s slipping away from me, disappearing into something I don’t recognize.
Tears prick at my eyes, but I fight them back. I can’t fall apart. I have to figure this out. I need to make a decision, but I don’t even know where to begin.
What am I going to do?
My thoughts turn to Maria, to my best friend. I haven’t spoken to her in weeks, haven’t really talked to her since that morning in Lukin’s apartment. She’d been cold with me, distant. But now I realize—I’ve been the one pushing her away.
I’ve been so wrapped up in my own guilt, in the secret I’m keeping from her, that I stopped reaching out. I’ve been withdrawing from her, making excuses. It wasn’t Maria who changed—it was me.
I can feel the weight of it all. The guilt. The shame. The silence between us.
And now, I realize just how far apart we’ve grown in such a short amount of time. I’m not sure how to fix it. I’ve failed her. I can’t even explain why. How do I tell her what’s happened? How do I tell her about this baby? How do I tell her about Lukin?
The only person I’ve really talked to in the last few weeks is Jenni. She’s been there for me, but she’s too focused on her exams to really see what’s happening. I can’t lay this on her right now. Not with everything else she’s dealing with.
Basically, I have no one.
I feel more alone than I ever have. My life feels like it’s slipping through my fingers, and all I can do is sit here, frozen, with no idea how to move forward.
My breath comes in shallow bursts, my mind racing, spiraling, until I can barely breathe.
I have no idea what I’m going to do.
The weight of everything presses down on me—on my chest, on my mind. I can’t think straight. The world feels tooheavy, too overwhelming. I don’t know how to take the first step, don’t know where to even start.
I consider calling Lukin.
The thought is terrifying, the temptation strong, but my pride holds me back. He told me to leave. He told me to never show myself again. And I believe him. He meant it. I know he did. I remember the coldness in his voice, the finality in the way he spoke.
I can feel the sting of his words even now.
But despite everything, despite the anger, the hurt, the pride—there’s this tiny voice inside me that tells me to reach out to him, to tell him what’s happening, to ask for help, that he would know what to do.
