The clinic smells like antiseptic and recycled air and too many other people’s fear.
The nurse is kind. Efficient. Entirely too calm.
“Blood test will confirm,” she says, tapping at her tablet. “But the indicators are strong.”
I laugh.
It bursts out of me, high and sharp and completely inappropriate.
She pauses. “Is… everything all right?”
“I’m sorry,” I say, pressing my hand to my mouth. “This is just—wow. Timing.”
She offers a cautious smile. “You’re not the first person to say that.”
The test confirms it.
Pregnant.
The word feels enormous. Heavy. Real.
I sit there for a long minute after she leaves, staring at the wall while the reality of it settles into my bones.
Then I laugh again.
Then I cry.
Then I laugh harder because the crying is ridiculous and also inevitable and also kind of hysterical.
“Oh stars,” I whisper to no one. “Voltar.”
I don’t tell anyone right away.
I go home. I sit on my couch. I put my feet up and stare at the ceiling like it’s going to crack open and give me instructions.
Eventually, I pull up Lazarus’s secure channel.
I record the message myself. No filters. No drafts. No second takes.
I look straight into the camera.
“Hey,” I say, voice steady despite everything. “Okay. So. This is going to be weird, and I don’t know how to do this without making it weird, so I’m just going to say it.”
I take a breath.
“I’m pregnant.”
I laugh, a little breathless. “Yeah. I know. Me too.”
My eyes burn. I blink hard and keep going.
“The clinic confirmed it this morning. I cried. Then I laughed. Then I cried again. I’m still kind of doing both, so if this comes out garbled, sorry.”
I swallow.
“I don’t know where you are when you get this. I don’t know what kind of day you’re having. I just—” My voice softens. “I wanted you to hear it from me. From my face. Not a report.”
I smile then, small but real.
