“Truth,” he said quietly.
I looked at him.
His eyes were dark, serious, searching mine for something I wasn’t sure I could give him. “Whatever happens in there, whatever the results say, we’re in this together. You understand?”
I nodded, my throat tight. “I understand.”
“Good.”
The door to the exam rooms opened, and a nurse appeared. “Truth Renois?”
We both stood.
Dr. Beaumont was already in the exam room when we walked in, sitting at the computer with my chart pulled up on the screen. She turned when we entered, her expression warm and professional.
“Good morning,” she said. “How are you feeling?”
“Nervous,” I admitted.
“That’s normal.” Dr. Beaumont gestured to the exam table. “Have a seat. Let’s talk about your results.”
I climbed onto the table, the paper crinkling beneath me. Amai stood next to me, close enough that I could feel the heat of his body, his presence solid and grounding.
Dr. Beaumont pulled up the lab results on the screen. “Your HCG levels are at 127. That’s a strong positive. Congratulations—you’re pregnant.”
The words hit me like a wave.
You’re pregnant.
I’d known. The tests had told me. But hearing it from Dr. Beaumont made it real in a way the pink lines hadn’t. Official.Undeniable. A medical fact that couldn’t be argued with or wished away.
I looked at Amai. His face was unreadable, but his hand tightened around mine.
“Now,” Dr. Beaumont continued, “it’s still very early. We’re going to do an ultrasound to confirm placement and make sure everything looks good. It’s too early to see much, but we should be able to see the gestational sac.”
She moved to the ultrasound machine and gestured for me to lie back. I did, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. Amai stayed next to me, his hand never leaving mine.
Dr. Beaumont lifted my shirt and squeezed gel onto my lower abdomen. The gel was cold, shocking against my skin. She pressed the transducer against my stomach, and the screen flickered to life—black and white and grainy, shapes that didn’t make sense to my untrained eye.
“There,” Dr. Beaumont said, pointing to a small dark circle on the screen. “That’s the gestational sac. Right where it should be.”
I stared at the screen. That tiny dark circle was my baby. Amai’s baby. A cluster of cells that would become a person, a life, a future.
“And there,” Dr. Beaumont said, adjusting the transducer slightly. “Do you see that flicker?”
I squinted at the screen. There was something—a tiny, rapid flutter in the center of the sac. Barely visible. But there.
“Is that—” My voice broke.
“That’s the heartbeat,” Dr. Beaumont said gently. “It’s faint, but it’s there. Strong and steady.”
The room went silent.
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t do anything except stare at that tiny flicker on the screen—proof that this wasreal, that my body had done what it was supposed to do, that there was a life growing inside me.
Amai’s hand tightened around mine. When I looked at him, his eyes were fixed on the screen, his expression raw and unguarded in a way I’d never seen before. Like every wall he’d ever built had just crumbled to dust.
“Congratulations,” Dr. Beaumont said, her voice warm. “You’re officially pregnant.”
