The pregnancy test sat on the bathroom counter like a bomb waiting to detonate.
I'd been staring at it for what felt like hours but was probably only seconds. The plastic stick resting there, innocent and devastating, while my entire future hung in the balance.
My period was five days late. Five days of telling myself it was stress, it was the change in routine, it was anything except the obvious.
Five days of my gut screaming what my brain refused to accept.
Brianna paced the cramped bathroom floor behind me, her nervous energy filling the silence I couldn't break.
"It's probably nothing. You've been stressed, right? My cousin once skipped two whole months because of a bad breakup, and she wasn't pregnant. She was just emotionally devastated, which honestly might be worse—"
"Bri." My voice came out hollow. "You're not helping."
"Right. Sorry. Shutting up now." She lasted approximately four seconds. "How much longer?"
"Another minute."
The longest minute of my life. I sat frozen on the edge of the bathtub, gripping the porcelain until my knuckles turned white. The fluorescent light buzzed overhead, harsh and unforgiving.
When I finally looked, two pink lines stared back at me.
Positive.
I kept staring, willing the result to change, willing one of those lines to fade into nothing. But the test remained stubbornly, devastatingly clear.
The disbelief lasted maybe three seconds before it curdled into something worse—dread, thick and suffocating, settling into my chest like concrete.
I'd gotten myself into serious trouble.
Brianna stopped pacing. She crouched beside me, her hand finding my back, rubbing small circles that were meant to be soothing but felt like sandpaper against my raw nerves.
"Okay. Okay, it's okay. We'll figure this out. These tests have false positives sometimes, right? We can get another one, or go to a clinic, or…"
Her voice cracked, panic edging through despite her best efforts.
"How did this happen? You're always careful. You have plans for everything. This doesn't make sense…"
"I don't understand." The words scraped out of my throat. "I took the birth control pill, just like always."
I was replaying that night in my head, searching for the flaw in my logic, the miscalculation that led to this moment. I'd been on the pill for years. It had never failed me. The math was supposed to work.
Brianna went very still. She turned to me slowly, something dawning in her expression that I didn't want to see.
"Kitty." Her voice was careful now, measured in a way that made my stomach drop. "You used a condom, right?"
The question hung in the air between us.
"Tell me you used a condom." Harder this time.
Desperate. Needing to be wrong.
"I didn't think I needed double protection." The words came out flat, detached—the tone of someone recounting a mistake they couldn't undo. "I was on the pill. I'd been on it for years, and it never failed. Letting him finish inside seemed like a negligible risk at the time."
For a moment, Brianna just stared at me.
"Are you kidding me right now?” Her composure shattered. “Birth control pills are never one hundred percent!”
Brianna paused, but it was just a beginning.
“They're like 91% effective with typical use, which means nine out of a hundred people get pregnant every year, and you, the girl who calculates risk assessments for fun, didn't think to add a backup?"
She was on her feet now, pacing again but faster, angrier.
"And with Damon Ashford?! Of all the people on this campus, you chose the most careless guy in our entire class? He forgets lectures faster than he forgets the girls names he sleeps with! And you let him…"
She couldn't finish the sentence. She didn't need to.
I let her vent. Every word landed like a blow, and I absorbed them without defense because she was right.
I was reckless. I was stupid.
I'd made a decision that contradicted everything I stood for, everything I'd spent years building, and now I was paying for it.
One night of letting go, and this was the price.
But wallowing wouldn't fix anything. "It doesn't matter now."
My voice cut through her tirade, sharp and final. Brianna stopped mid-pace, caught off guard by the steel in my tone.
"What's done is done. There's only one path forward, and I'm taking it. I'm not keeping this baby."
Brianna's expression shifted—from fury to something more complicated. She stopped pacing, her arms crossing over her chest.
"Kitty, you need to handle this fast. Like, yesterday fast."
"I know."
"No, you don't know."
She dropped onto the bathtub edge beside me, lowering her voice like the walls might be listening.
"You don't know the Ashfords like I do. If they find out about this pregnancy, they won't just let it go. They'll come for you."
I blinked at her. "What are you talking about?"
"My family and the Ashfords go way back. Business dealings, social circles, all that old money nonsense I ran away from. I've heard things, Kitty. From my father, from watching them at events before I got out. "
Her jaw tightened.
"Arnold Ashford doesn't leave loose ends. He controls everything—his business, his image, his sons. An illegitimate grandchild floating around? He'd never allow it."
A cold thread of unease wound through my chest. "Bri, you're being dramatic."
"I'm being realistic. These people have resources you can't imagine. Investigators, lawyers, people who make problems disappear."
"So what are you saying? I need to get this done before anyone finds out?"
"I'm saying we need to move fast and keep our mouths shut. No one can know about this." Her eyes were deadly serious. "The Ashfords have eyes everywhere. Trust me on this."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell her she was overreacting, that we weren't living in some mafia drama. But the fear in her voice was real, and Brianna didn't scare easily.
"Okay." I nodded slowly. "Fast and quiet. I'll have to dip into my scholarship funds. They're already stretched thin, but I can make it work. And if that's not enough..." I swallowed hard. "I'll have to ask my mother."
Brianna's face fell. She knew what that meant—the weight of it, the cost.
My mother, who had sacrificed everything to give me a different life. My mother, whose approval I'd been chasing for years by proving I wasn't destined to repeat her mistakes.
Now I had to go home and confess that I'd done exactly what I swore I never would.
"We'll figure it out together." Brianna squeezed my hand again. "Whatever you need—rides, moral support, someone to yell at—I'm here. But Kitty?"
She waited until I met her eyes. "We need to be smart about this. The Ashfords can't know. Promise me."
"I promise."
The word felt heavy leaving my mouth. I'd spent years building walls between myself and vulnerability, brick by careful brick.
Now I had a secret that could tear everything down—and apparently, very powerful people who'd do exactly that if they ever found out.