CHAPTER 241: POSITIVE

The doctor’s office smelled faintly of disinfectant and lemon. Too clean, too sharp, like it might slice through my nerves.

The paper on the exam table crinkled beneath me, loud in the quiet of the doctor’s office. I clutched the little cup from the urine test like it was a verdict in my hands, waiting for the doctor to read it out as if the two lines on the test at home hadn’t already screamed the truth at me weeks ago.

The doctor, a kind-faced woman with intelligent eyes, entered the room with a soft smile. She took my chart from the nurse and glanced at it. "So, you’ve had a positive home pregnancy test?"

"Yes," I managed, my voice barely a whisper.

She nodded, her gaze steady. "And you’re here for confirmation and to discuss next steps?"

I nodded, my throat tight. Aria gave my hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Alright," the doctor said, pulling up a rolling stool. "Let’s go over everything. First, tell me about your last menstrual period."

As I recounted the dates, my mind drifted. The absurdity of the situation hit me. Here I was, pregnant with my lover’s child, and my best friend, dressed like she was ready for a red carpet event, was holding my hand.

The doctor’s voice brought me back. "And any previous pregnancies or medical conditions I should be aware of?"

"No," I said. "This is my first."

****

The doctor smiled. "Positive. Again."

My throat went tight. That word still felt unreal. Positive. Pregnant.

Then the blood test. A pinch in my arm, the sting of the needle. I tried to listen as the doctor explained hormone levels, hCG, progesterone, blood type, Rh factor, iron, rubella immunity, things I knew I should be absorbing but all I could think was this is happening.

And then the ultrasound machine hummed to life.

The gel was cold against my stomach. I shivered, my hand instinctively reaching for Aria’s. She squeezed it, grounding me.

"There," the doctor pointed, angling the wand across my belly. A grainy image popped onto the screen, nothing more than a blur to anyone else. But then—flicker. A tiny pulsing light. A heartbeat.

"You’re measuring at Ten weeks," the doctor said gently. "Everything looks healthy."

That’s my baby. My baby. That flicker—tiny embryo—is alive because of me. Because of us. And Adrien doesn’t even know. God, how am I supposed to look at him tonight, tomorrow, every day, and not just blurt it out? He’d drop everything—every meeting, every schedule, every mask—just to watch that heartbeat with me. And I’m sitting here hoarding it like some kind of secret treasure, waiting for the perfect moment, waiting for our wedding like that’s supposed to make it more magical. But isn’t this already magic? He should be here. He deserves to be here. Am I not being greedy?

I didn’t realize I was crying until Aria nudged me, whispering, "You’re really doing this, Bella."

I laughed through the tears, then immediately covered my face with my hands. "Oh my God, Aria... Adrien doesn’t even know yet. I’m keeping this from him and now I’m—" My voice broke. "I can’t help but feel like I am being selfish."

Aria groaned so loudly the doctor side-eyed her. "Girl. Girl. You’re the one who said you wanted this as a wedding surprise. Now you’re sitting here acting like you’ve been betrayed by your own genius plan." She smacked her palm lightly against her forehead for emphasis. "Common, my love. Pick a struggle."

I hiccupped a laugh through tears. "I know. I just—"

She softened, brushing my cheek. "He’s going to melt when he finds out. Trust me."

The doctor handed me the ultrasound photo, and before I could even hold it properly, Aria snatched it out of my hands.

"Say cheese, baby bean!" she declared, pulling out her phone. "Auntie Aria’s already your favorite."

She dragged me into frame, pressing the printout against my cheek as if it were a VIP badge. The flash went off.

"You’re insane," I laughed, still teary.

"Insanely prepared," she shot back.

By the time the doctor wrapped up with prenatal advice—no alcohol, no smoking, limit caffeine, iron-rich foods, light exercise—my head was spinning. She handed me a prescription for prenatal vitamins, and I tucked it carefully into my purse, holding it like proof of something delicate, something impossibly precious.

I walked out clutching the future between trembling fingers.

****

The sun outside was warm, but not oppressive. The kind of afternoon that felt like it was holding its breath, waiting for something good to happen.

Aria slipped on her sunglasses like she was shielding herself from paparazzi. "Hungry?" she asked, already leading the way to the car.

"Yes," I admitted, rubbing my stomach. "How did you know?"

She shot me a smug look over her shoulder. "You were salivating when we passed the checkout and whispered ’hmm tacos’ like a woman possessed."

I groaned. "I didn’t whisper."

"You did," she said, unlocking the car. "It was like a love confession. ’Hmm tacos’ — soft, reverent, tragic."

I slid into the backseat, laughing. "You’re ridiculous."

"I’m observant," she corrected, climbing in beside me. "And also starving. So, tacos?"

"Tacos," I agreed, already imagining the warm spice and soft shell, the comfort of something simple after something monumental.

Just as the word left my mouth, a blur of movement sliced through the air. A hand shot out of nowhere, yanking at my purse so hard it nearly knocked me off balance.

"What the hell—" I gasped, my fingers slipping as the bag tore free.

Aria let out a shriek.

The world snapped back into focus with a jolt of pure, cold adrenaline. The thief was a lanky figure in a grey hoodie, already few feet away.

"Hey! Get back here, you son of a bitch!" Aria yelled, her voice a raw, furious thing I’d rarely heard. She kicked off her ridiculously high heels without a second thought, the expensive stilettos clattering on the asphalt, and was about to sprint after the thief like some avenging angel in sunglasses, when it happened.

Two shadows shot out from the alley like they’d been waiting for this moment. The man didn’t make it three strides before one woman slammed him into the pavement, the other twisting his wrist until he dropped my bag with a pitiful whimper.

The second woman dusted off the leather and turned to me. She walked calmly, her boots clicking against the pavement, and stopped in front of me and dipped into a low curtsy. Yes. A curtsy. In public. "Forgive the disturbance, ma’am."

My mouth fell open. "...What?"