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Jaisonβs eyes narrowed as he held the small white stick, his pulse thudding in a way that had nothing to do with adrenaline from the streets. He had gone through her drawerβnot proud, not at allβbut something had felt off lately. The long naps, sudden aversions to certain foods, the quiet moments she stole when she thought he wasnβt watching, the way she sometimes flinched as if bracing for news she wasnβt ready to share.
He caught her in the kitchen, evening sunlight slicing through the blinds across her face. She moved slowly, carefully wiping the counter, unawareβor pretendingβnoticing him. The faint scent of her perfume mixed with lemon cleaner, making the moment surreal.
Is this yours?he asked, voice low but edged with tension, holding the test between them like it carried the weight of the world. Her hands froze, the rag slipping slightly before she caught it. A nervous smile twitched at her lips, but her eyes betrayed her fear.
Iβ¦ Iβ
You donβt need to lie,he cut in, stepping closer. The floorboards creaked under him, and his gaze softened just a fraction, though suspicion still lingered.
Just⦠tell me.She swallowed, words caught in her throat. The kitchen felt smaller, air heavier, shadows stretching across her like fingers.
Yes,she whispered, voice trembling.
Itβs mine.Jaisonβs eyes scanned her face for any hint of denial, fear, or joke. There was noneβonly fragility he didnβt want to break. He exhaled slowly, leaning against the counter, running a hand through his hair.
Youβreβ¦ really pregnant?