Page 109 of Worth the Fall

I'm pregnant.

Pregnant.

As in there's a tiny human brewing in my uterus, and I'm one particularly intense sneeze away from spiraling into full-blown panic.

I pace my bathroom, clutching the test in one hand and my phone in the other, staring at the two bold pink lines like they might change their mind if I look hard enough. Spoiler alert: they don't.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God," I mutter, running my hands through my hair. My heart races, and a wave of nausea washes over me that has nothing to do with morning sickness. This can't be happening. Not now. Not when everything was finally falling into place.

Miguel and I have only been married for a few months. We're still in the honeymoon phase, still learning how to navigate life as newlyweds while juggling careers and co-parenting Felicity. A baby wasn't part of the plan. At least, not yet.

But here I am, standing in my bathroom at six a.m. on a Tuesday, holding a positive pregnancy test and trying not to hyperventilate.

"This is fine. Totally fine. You're a grown woman, Mia. A professional. A lawyer. You can handle this," I tell myself firmly, but my reflection in the mirror looks just as terrified as I feel.

My mind races with a million questions. How will Miguel react? Will he be happy? Scared? Both? And Felicity—sweet, spunky Felicity who's just gotten used to having me as her bonus mom. How will she handle the news of a new sibling?

My phone buzzes, nearly making me jump out of my skin. It's Miguel.

Miguel

Morning, beautiful. Any big plans for today?

I stare at the message, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in my throat.Oh, nothing major, Miguel. Just learning that I'm carrying your child. Casual Tuesday.

I can't tell him like this. Not over text. He deserves to hear it in person, to see my face when I share this life-changing news. But how? When?

I set the phone down on the counter with a shaky hand, my mind spinning. I need a plan. I need to think this through. I need…

My stomach growls loudly, interrupting my spiraling thoughts.

Cupcakes. I definitely need cupcakes.

My first attempt at breaking the news happens at family dinner. Miguel, Felicity, and I sit around the table at his place, the air filled with the mouthwatering aroma of hishomemade enchiladas. Felicity chatters away about her day at school, her little face animated as she recounts a thrilling game of tag at recess.

"And then I tagged Liam, but he said it didn't count because I was wearing a pink shirt and pink is a girl color. But that's just stupid. Right, Daddy?" She looks to Miguel, her brow furrowed in indignation.

Miguel nods solemnly, though I catch the amused twinkle in his eye. "Absolutely stupid. Colors are for everyone."

Felicity beams, vindicated, and takes a huge bite of her enchilada. "That's what I said! And then I tagged him again, just to prove it."

I laugh, the normalcy of the moment settling my nerves slightly. This is my family. My people. Surely adding one more tiny person to the mix won't change that.

But as the meal goes on, my stomach starts to churn, and not just from the secret I'm carrying. I push my food around my plate, taking small bites and trying to act natural.

Miguel's dark eyes catch mine, soft and curious. His brow furrows slightly, a hint of concern shadowing his usual warmth. "You okay,hermosa? You've barely touched your food."

His voice is low and soothing, like he's trying not to spook me, and his hand stretches across the table, fingertips brushing mine. The connection is grounding, steady, and it makes my chest ache with the weight of what I'm about to say—or try to say.

"I—" The words stick in my throat. This is it. Just say it. I'm pregnant.

I put my fork down and draw in a deep breath, my hands damp with nervous sweat. "So… I have something to tell?—"

"Oh! Daddy! We're late for the recital!" Felicity's voice cuts through mine like a fire alarm, and Miguel's head snaps up.

"Crap," he mutters, glancing at the clock. And just like that, the room dissolves into chaos.

Plates are shoved aside. Felicity rushes to find her sparkly shoes. Miguel is tossing her ballet bag over his shoulder while trying to locate his car keys. The moment is gone, trampled under the weight of pirouettes and last-minute schedules.

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