Page 25 of Ghost Of You

“Oink! Oink! Pig!” Jasper teases.

“Fuck off, Jasper,” Ethan mumbles, clearly annoyed.

I grab a handful of crisps and pop one into my mouth. “What are you eating?” Ethan asks.

“Crisp. Continue with the message,” I mumble through a mouthful. He clears his throat like he’s about to deliver a grand speech. “Don’t be a dick.”

“Anyway,” Ethan continues, “Brenda asked if I was free tonight. I said yes. She then said her flatmate’s gone away for the weekend and wants to know if I’d like to stay with her and do all this romantic stuff. As much as I’m not into the romantic crap she has planned, she’s got a killer body, and I wouldn’t mind hitting that a few times.”

“You’re a pig,” I say, with Jasper snorting again in the background.

“But you both love me anyway.” Ethan’s grin is practically audible.

“You’re alright. I suppose,” I tease.

"Love is a bit of a stretch. Tolerate is probably the word you're looking for," Jasper quips.

"Ha! Ha! You're hilarious, Jasper," Ethan retorts sarcastically.

As Ethan rambles on, I hear a sound behind me and turn to see Laelia standing in the doorway, wearing one of my oversized t-shirts. It swallows her whole, but she looks stunning as always. She’s been bedridden for five days with a nasty tummy bug she picked up in the Netherlands. Honestly, I'm surprised I didn’t catch it from eating reindeer.

Her face is a picture of concern. Her brows are furrowed, her lip bitten, and she’s fidgeting with the hem of my t-shirt. Something’s clearly wrong.

“I need to go check on Laelia. I’ll call you guys tomorrow morning,” I say, my tone shifting to serious.

“You little shit. That’s fine. Send Laelia my love and apologise for your small dick,” Ethan jokes.

“Fuck off.”

"That's fine, Killian. Go and check on your girl. Hope everything's okay," Jasper says. "Ignore Mr. Oinks-a-lot."

Ethan laughs. "Fuck off, Jasper, and love you too, Killian. Bye.”

“Bye,” I reply, tossing my headphones onto the sofa as I stand up.

I approach Laelia, but she remains still. I gently trace my fingers along her jaw, lifting her chin to meet my gaze. Her eyes are red and glistening with tears.

“What’s wrong, beautiful?” I ask softly, and she looks away, biting her lip. Her eyes fill with more tears. “Hey,” I say, gently lifting her chin again. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

She nods, her eyes searching mine, as if looking for reassurance.

“I think you should sit down,” she says, her voice trembling.

I follow her to the sofa, sitting down as she joins me, placing the snacks on the table. She continues to fidget with the edge of my t-shirt, her silence heavy with unspoken words.

“Come on, beautiful. Spill,” I encourage, trying to smile reassuringly, but she doesn’t return it.

Her eyes dart around as though searching for the right words. “Let me guess? Meatball chewed up my favourite shoes again?” I joke. She lets out a small laugh and shakes her head. “The cat pissed on the bed again?” Another laugh and shake. “Is it bad?” I ask, growing more concerned. She shrugs. “Will I be annoyed?” I ask, and she shrugs again. “Come on, beautiful. Tell me.”

“I-I,” she stutters.

“What is it?” I ask, gently squeezing her hand.

“I’m… pregnant,” she blurts out, her voice barely a whisper.

I blink, my mind struggling to process her words. “What?” I ask, as if I might be imagining things.

“I’m… pregnant,” she repeats, letting go of my hands and fidgeting with the t-shirt again.

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