Page 92 of When Love And Destiny Collide

"Pee. On. The. Stick," she insists, her voice low and urgent. "Quick, before they come back downstairs."

She turns around to give me some semblance of privacy. I can hardly believe this is happening. My hands shake as I pull the stick out of the package. I fumble with the wrapper, nearly dropping it in the process.

"Make sure you don’t miss," she teases, a giggle escaping her.

"Don’t look at me!" I exclaim, half-laughing, half-panicking.

"Then pay attention!" she laughs.

I nod, swallowing hard, and force myself to focus on the task at hand. With trembling fingers, I slip the cap back onto the stick and set it on the counter. After I wash my hands, the weight of the moment crashes over me. I lower the toilet lid and sink onto it, my heart pounding in my chest, anxiety and disbelief twistingtogether in a dizzying swirl. What if Laila is right? What if she’s wrong?

The next three minutes stretch out like an eternity. Laila leans against the door, biting her lower lip, her anxious energy palpable. I’m on the verge of tears, grappling with a possibility that feels too good to be true.

Finally, Laila picks up the stick, her gaze glued to the result. Time seems to slow as she looks up at me, her expression one of pure shock. My pulse quickens, and I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart.

“You’re pregnant,” she says, handing me the stick. The words hang in the air like a delicate thread, fragile but unbreakable, shifting everything in an instant.

I stare at the two blue lines and cover my mouth as tears well up in my eyes. It feels like I’m suspended in a dream, the world around me blurring as I try to process what this could mean for my life, my future, and Noah.

Laila waits, her eyes scanning my face for any sign of what I might be feeling. Am I about to leap for joy or crumble into tears of disappointment?

“Well?” she prompts, her voice thick with anticipation.

"I'm pregnant," I whisper, the words spilling from my lips like a long-held secret I can barely contain. "For the last five years,I anchored myself in the reality that I’d never get to experience this. And now that it’s finally here, it feels utterly surreal."

"Are you happy?" Laila asks gently, her eyes full of tenderness.

"What if the test is wrong?" I say, my voice trembling.

"Here," she says, handing me the rest of the tests. "Use them all."

The second and third tests confirm what feels like a miracle: the impossible is sometimes incredibly, wondrously possible. I’m pregnant.

***

Laila's face gives nothing away for the rest of the evening. She carries on as if nothing extraordinary has just happened. Meanwhile, my mind buzzes with a single, overwhelming thought: I’m pregnant.

"Don't forget to call me tomorrow," she says with a grin as she and Sam prepare to leave. "We still have to pick out drapes for the nursery."

"I will," I smile, feeling a little rush of excitement. "How about Saturday?"

"Perfect!" she exclaims, her enthusiasm infectious.

"Are you okay?" Noah asks as we watch them drive away. "You've been quiet."

"I'm sorry," I say, offering a small smile. "I think I'm just nervous about the grand opening. It's only a week away, and even though everything’s ready, I feel anxious."

He steps closer. His presence, like always, makes me catch my breath. "You’ve got this, Sweetheart," he whispers. "Everything will be perfect."

"Yes," I say, smiling up at him. "Everything is perfect."

When his lips brush gently over mine, I close my eyes, sinking into the moment. For the first time tonight, it finally dawns on me just how perfect everything truly is. We're going to have a baby.

***

I assess my reflection in the mirror, standing in just my bra and panties. My fingers graze over my flat belly, and a wave of wonder washes over me. The realization sinks in—on the day Noah and I came together, we created a life now growing inside me, a beautiful secret blossoming in the quiet of my heart.

I have to tell him, but not until I see my doctor. I have to find out if my body can even carry this baby. Is my womb strong enough to protect us through the next eight months? A tear rolls downmy cheek, quickly followed by another. I place a protective hand over my stomach, whispering, "I will make sure you're always safe."

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