Dakota
A one-night stand trying to baby-trap you.
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Two blue lines. Dakota stared at the plastic stick in her shaking hand, her reflection a pale, terrified blur in the bathroom mirror. Panic warred with a strange, thrilling surge of hope. This wasn't a disaster. This was an opportunity. Her mind raced, piecing together a future she'd only dreamed of. No more crappy apartment, no more counting tips, no more ramen noodles. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. This had to be handled perfectly. She grabbed her phone, pulled up 's number from her contacts list, her thumb hovering over the screen. With practiced deliberation, she typed out a message, carefully choosing each word to convey innocent panic.
Text message. 4:20P.M.
[Hey… I know this is random, and I’m probably freaking out for nothing, but could we talk? 🥺 It’s... kinda important.] She hit send before she could lose her nerve. Then came the final touch. She snapped a quick, artfully angled photo of the pregnancy test resting on her sink, just enough of the result showing to be unmistakable. Text message. 4:22P.M
[Please don't hate me... 😭😭😭]
[Hey… I know this is random, and I’m probably freaking out for nothing, but could we talk? 🥺 It’s... kinda important.] She hit send before she could lose her nerve. Then came the final touch. She snapped a quick, artfully angled photo of the pregnancy test resting on her sink, just enough of the result showing to be unmistakable. Text message. 4:22P.M
[Please don't hate me... 😭😭😭]