Caleb had practically disappeared. He stopped answering my texts, and barely looked at me when we crossed paths at school. Part of me wanted to confront him, to explain everything, but the other part was too exhausted to care.
I missed Logan too. I hated admitting it, even to myself, but I did. His steady presence had always been a comfort, and now, with everything falling apart, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. But after everything I’d put him through, how could I ask for his support now?
Meanwhile, all this mess was starting to wear on me. The late nights and constant noise at the bar were draining, and I was struggling to stay awake during class. My teachers were starting to notice, their disapproving looks only adding to my stress.
“You’re falling behind again,” my English teacher said during a meeting after school. “You need to prioritize your studies.”
“I’m trying,” I said, though the words felt hollow.
But the truth was, I was barely holding on. Between work, school, and everything with my personal life, I felt like I was drowning.
I started feeling bad lately.
“You need to see a doctor,” Sarah said firmly as we sat in her car later that day. “This isn’t normal.”
“It’s just stress,” I insisted, staring out the window.
Sarah turned to me, her eyebrows raised. “Stress doesn’t make you throw up every morning. Or pass out during gym. Come on, Emma.”
I crossed my arms, leaning against the door. “I don’t need a doctor.”
“You’re being stubborn,” she muttered, her grip tightening on the steering wheel. “And reckless.”
***
I woke up with the now-familiar nausea twisting my stomach into knots. By the time I made it to the bathroom, I was already on my knees, clutching the edge of the toilet as bile burned my throat. My body felt weak, my hands trembling as I pushed my hair back and leaned against the wall.
Sarah was waiting for me when I finally emerged, her arms crossed and her face set in that mix of concern and frustration she’d perfected. “Emma, this isn’t just stress,” she said, her voice low but firm. “You need to figure out what’s going on.”
“I’ll be fine,” I mumbled, but the wavering in my voice betrayed me.
“No, you won’t,” she snapped, standing to block my path. “Look, you’ve been dizzy, throwing up, exhausted... You have to consider—” She stopped, hesitating before lowering her voice. “Emma, you might be pregnant.”