Bianca's POV
Two months had passed since I started working at Montgomery Media, and I'd fallen into a routine. Wake up, avoid Vanessa at breakfast, go to work, come home, avoid everyone at dinner, lock myself in my room. Rinse and repeat.
It wasn't much of a life, but it was safe. Predictable. And predictable meant less chance of everything exploding in my face.
Except today, predictable went straight out the window.
I was at my desk, halfway through another soul crushing data entry assignment, when my stomach did something weird. A flip, then a twist, then a wave of nausea so strong I had to grip the edge of my desk.
"You okay?" Josh asked from the next cubicle.
"Yeah, just…" The room tilted slightly. "I think I need some air."
I stood up too fast and the world spun. My vision went spotty at the edges.
"Whoa." Josh was beside me in a second, steadying my elbow. "You look really pale. When's the last time you ate?"
I tried to remember. Breakfast? No, I'd skipped that because Vanessa was in the kitchen. Lunch? Also no, because I'd been too busy trying to meet Richard's impossible deadline.
"I'm fine," I said, even though I very clearly wasn't. "Just need to sit down for a second."
But my body had other ideas. The nausea came back with a vengeance, and I barely made it to the bathroom before I threw up everything in my stomach, which wasn't much.
I knelt on the cold tile floor, shaking, my forehead pressed against the stall wall.
This was the third time this week.
At first, I'd blamed it on stress. New job, living with people who either pitied me or hated me, carrying around a secret that got heavier every day. Stress made people sick all the time.
But deep down, in that part of my brain I'd been trying to ignore, I knew this wasn't stress.
I knew exactly what this was.
"No," I whispered to the empty bathroom. "No, no, no. Please no."
I pulled myself up, rinsed my mouth, and stared at my reflection in the mirror. My face was pale, my eyes too bright, my hands trembling.
I thought back to that night. The hotel room. Alexander. We'd been reckless, caught up in something that felt bigger than logic or consequences.
We hadn't used protection.
"Oh God." My legs felt weak again. "Oh God, oh God, oh God."
I needed to know for sure. Needed to confirm before I let myself spiral completely.
I left work early, telling Richard I had a doctor's appointment, which wasn't technically a lie. Then I drove to a pharmacy three towns over where no one would recognize me.
The pregnancy tests were in aisle seven, and I stood there for way too long, staring at the different boxes like they were written in ancient hieroglyphics.
Digital or regular? Early detection or standard? How many tests did one person need to take before accepting their life was over?
I grabbed three different kinds and a bottle of water, then paid cash and avoided eye contact with the cashier who absolutely knew what I was doing.
Back in my car, I stared at the plastic bag in the passenger seat.
I couldn't go home. Couldn't risk anyone seeing me walk in with pregnancy tests. Couldn't risk Chloe's concerned questions or Vanessa's suspicious glares.
So I drove to a gas station, locked myself in the tiny bathroom that smelled like bleach and regret, and took all three tests.
Then I waited.
Three minutes felt like three hours. I paced in the small space, counting the tiles on the floor, reading the graffiti on the walls, anything to keep my brain from thinking about what those little sticks might say.
My phone timer went off.
I looked down.
Positive.
All three of them.
The world tilted again, but this time it wasn't nausea. This time it was pure, unadulterated panic.
I was pregnant.
With Alexander's baby.
My sister's husband's baby.
"This can't be happening." My voice sounded strange, high pitched and desperate. "This isn't real. This isn't happening."
But it was. The evidence was right there in my shaking hands.
I don't know how long I stood there. Long enough for someone to knock on the door and ask if I was okay. Long enough for my legs to go numb. Long enough for the panic to settle into something colder and heavier.
Fear.
I drove home on autopilot, barely seeing the road. When I pulled into the driveway, I just sat there, staring at the house where my sister lived with her husband. The husband who'd gotten me pregnant.
I couldn't tell them. Couldn't destroy Chloe like that. She'd welcomed me into her home, given me a job, defended me against her own mother. And this was how I repaid her?
But I couldn't hide it forever either. Eventually, I'd start to show. Eventually, someone would figure it out.
I was trapped.
I grabbed the bag with the tests and walked inside, planning to sneak straight to my room. But Chloe was in the living room, and when she saw me, her face lit up.
"Perfect timing! I was just about to call you."
I clutched the bag tighter behind my back. "Yeah? What's up?"
"Alexander and I are going out for dinner tonight. Just the two of us, you know, date night." She smiled that beautiful, innocent smile that made me want to throw myself into traffic. "But I was hoping you could join us for drinks after? There's this new rooftop bar that just opened, and I want you to see it."
"I don't know, I'm pretty tired and I…"
"Please?" She grabbed my hands, and I prayed she couldn't feel how badly they were shaking. "You've been working so hard. You deserve a night out. Come on, it'll be fun."
Looking into her excited eyes, knowing what I knew, carrying what I was carrying, felt like swallowing broken glass.
"Okay," I heard myself say. "Sure. Sounds great."
"Yay!" She hugged me, and I stood there stiffly, the pregnancy tests burning a hole in the bag behind my back. "We'll text you when we're done with dinner. Probably around nine?"
"Perfect."
As soon as she let go, I practically ran to my room. I shoved the tests into the back of my closet, buried under shoes and boxes, like hiding them would somehow make this not real.
Then I sat on my bed and tried to figure out what the hell I was going to do.
I couldn't have this baby. Couldn't bring a child into this mess, this lie, this disaster waiting to happen.
But the thought of not having it made my chest ache in a way I didn't expect.
My phone buzzed. A text from Alexander.
"Chloe mentioned you're meeting us later. We need to talk. Privately."
I stared at the message, my stomach churning again.
He didn't know yet. Couldn't know. But somehow, the universe had decided to throw us together tonight anyway.
I typed back with shaking fingers.
"Fine. But not at the bar. Too public."
"Where then?"
I thought for a moment, then remembered a small park near the bar. Quiet. Dark. The kind of place people went when they needed to have conversations that couldn't happen in daylight.
"Memorial Park. After the bar. Midnight."
"I'll be there."
I threw my phone across the room and buried my face in my hands.
This was it. The moment everything changed. The moment I had to tell him the truth and watch his whole world implode right along with mine.
And there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it.
Hours later, I stood in front of my mirror, trying to make myself look normal. Trying to look like a woman who wasn't carrying a secret that would destroy everyone she cared about.
The face staring back at me looked hollow. Haunted.
I forced a smile. It looked fake even to me.
"You can do this," I whispered. "Just one drink with Chloe. Be normal. Then tell Alexander and figure out what happens next."
But I knew, deep down in my bones, that nothing was ever going to be normal again.