Chapter 66 Two Lines
I stare at the calendar on my phone for the fifth time this morning, as if the dates will magically rearrange themselves and show me something different. Maybe I counted wrong. Maybe work stress shifted my cycle. Maybe the universe is simply confused.
But I'm not.
My period is six days late.
Six.
That has never happened. Not to me. Not with my body that has always been annoyingly punctual-almost too punctual. So why now? Why this month? Why after everything has spun completely off its axis?
"No," I whisper to myself, pacing the length of my tiny living room. "You're overthinking. It's stress, Elena. Just stress."
Except my chest is tight. My palms are sweaty. And every time I breathe, I feel something coil tighter in my stomach-fear, hope, panic, I don't even know.
There's only one explanation. One disturbing, impossible, stupid explanation.
Damian.
My body goes hot all at once. Not Lucas. Not Lucas-we haven't been intimate in weeks. Not since things got... whatever they became. Cold. Strained. Wrong.
But Damian...
I squeeze my eyes shut. I should not even be thinking his name right now. But my brain doesn't care about what I should or shouldn't do. It only cares about math.
And the math is mathing.
"Oh God."
I grab my bag and rush out of the apartment before my courage collapses. I practically fly down the stairs-every footstep hollow, too loud, like the building is judging me.
The pharmacy is only two blocks away. I speed-walk like someone being chased by guilt itself. When I get there, the cold air-conditioning hits my skin and I almost turn around and run back home. But no. I have to do this.
I march straight to the aisle with the pregnancy tests because of course I know where it is. My hand shakes as I grab one pack. Then another. Then another. And before I know it, I'm standing there with what looks like enough to test an entire neighborhood.
Twenty boxes.
Twenty.
The cashier raises an eyebrow when I drop them on the counter.
"Medical research project," I blurt.
She nods slowly. "Right."
I practically snatch the bag and hurry back home.
Inside my apartment, I dump everything on the bathroom counter. They spill everywhere-pink boxes, blue boxes, digital ones, strip ones. I don't even know which to start with.
"Okay," I whisper to myself in the mirror. My reflection looks terrified. "Okay, Elena. You're going to take one test. Just one. And it will be negative. And then you can stop panicking."
I tear open the first box with shaking hands. My heart is beating so fast it actually hurts. I follow the instructions, set the test down, and stare at the little screen.
Waiting feels like torture. My brain is screaming at me, dizzy with fear.
What if it's positive?
What will I do?
How do I even begin to explain a child that doesn't belong to my boyfriend?
My stomach turns.
The timer on my phone buzzes. I suck in a breath and look-really look.
Two lines.
Two bold, unmistakable lines.
"No. No, no, no." My voice cracks. "It's wrong. It has to be wrong."
I grab another test, then another. I'm ripping boxes open like a madwoman. In minutes, five more tests are sitting on the counter. I run them all, pacing, panicking, whispering prayers I haven't said in years.
One by one, they finish developing.
Positive. Positive. Positive. Positive. Positive.
Every single one.
My knees feel weak. I grip the sink to steady myself.
I'm pregnant.
The bathroom feels too small, too hot, too dangerous. My throat tightens until breathing feels impossible. There's a ringing in my ears-like the world is fading out under the weight of what this means.
Damian.
It's his.
There is no other possibility. Lucas hasn't touched me in forever. I know this. My body knows this. And now the tests know it too.
My mind flashes back to that night-Damian's mouth on my skin, his breath hot against my neck, the way my name sounded when he said it. The way I fell apart under him.
And my chest burns with something that is not entirely fear.
But everything else? Everything is chaos.
Damian is with Rachael now. Her laugh echoes through the walls of this building. Their footsteps every morning. Their whispered conversations as they leave together. The sound of their quiet intimacy that slices me open a little more each day.
He chose her.
And now this.
I slide down to the floor, surrounded by test strips and boxes. My head falls into my hands.
"I can't be pregnant," I whisper. "I can't. Not now. Not like this."
But my body has already decided for me.
My chest tightens painfully. Tears prick behind my eyes, but I blink them back hard. Crying won't change the truth sitting on my bathroom counter.
I push myself up, wiping my face with the back of my shaking hand. I need a second-just one second-to think. To breathe.
My phone suddenly vibrates on the sink.
The sound makes me jump.
I snatch it up, praying it's not Lucas, not anyone suspicious, not anything I'm too fragile to face right now.
It's Damian.
My heart stutters.
A single, casual message:
"Hey. Haven't seen you today. You good?"
That's it.
Nothing heavy.
Nothing urgent.
Nothing suspicious.
Just... Damian being Damian.
Checking on me.
Completely clueless about the storm he helped create inside my body.
I stare at the message for a long, shaky moment. My throat tightens. Of all the times for him to text me casually-today feels like some type of cosmic joke.
I look at the tests again.
Positive.
Positive.
Positive.
My fingers tremble around my phone.
How am I supposed to answer him?
What am I supposed to say?
How do I pretend everything is normal when my entire world just tilted off its axis?
I swallow hard, force my breathing to steady, just enough to type back something simple. Something that won't give me away.
I type:
"Yeah. I'm fine."
Hover over send.
My pulse is racing so fast I feel lightheaded.
I hit send.
The moment the message goes through, a cold realization settles deep inside me-
Nothing is fine.
Not even close.
And things will never be normal again.