POV Norah
The morning light pierced through the curtains, too sharp, too insistent.
My stomach clenched so suddenly that I jolted upright, my throat burning. Before I could even register what was happening, I stumbled out of bed and ran to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet in time.
The sound of my own retching echoed off the tiles. My body trembled, my hair clung to my damp forehead, and for a terrifying moment, I thought I might collapse right there on the cold floor.
I gripped the porcelain bowl with white knuckles, gasping for air, the taste of acid still bitter on my tongue.
“God,” I whispered, pressing my forehead against the cool rim. “What the hell is wrong with me?”
When the wave of nausea finally passed, I slid down to sit on the floor, hugging my knees, my head spinning.
My first thought was food poisoning. The memory of last night’s meal at the restaurant with Chris flooded back—delicate appetizers, wine I probably shouldn’t have had, dishes so rich they almost tasted unreal.
It must be that, I told myself. Food poisoning, nothing more.
But then the thought crept in—unwelcome at first, then too loud to ignore.
My body wasn’t just sick. It was different.
I swallowed hard, my heart beginning to race in a rhythm that didn’t feel like panic but something sharper, something almost hopeful.
“No,” I whispered again, shaking my head. “It’s too soon. It can’t be…”
But my hands were already moving, shoving open the bathroom drawer, fumbling through the clutter until I found the box I had bought weeks ago but never dared to touch.
A pregnancy test.
My fingers trembled as I ripped the foil open, almost dropping it into the sink.
I stared at it for a long moment, my breath shallow, before I finally gathered the courage to follow the instructions. Every second that passed afterward felt like a lifetime.
I paced the bathroom like a prisoner waiting for a verdict, wringing my hands, my mind screaming in every direction.
And then—two lines.
Clear. Bold. No room for doubt.
The air rushed out of me in a sob. My knees buckled, and I pressed a hand to my mouth as tears blurred my vision.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, the words breaking apart on my tongue. “I’m pregnant…”
I was pregnant.
The tears came harder, hot and unstoppable. Not from fear, not from confusion—though both lingered at the edges—but from joy so fierce it lit me up from the inside.
I held the little stick like it was a holy relic, like the entire world now fit into this tiny piece of plastic.
“Xander,” I breathed, the thought of him sparking through me like lightning.
He had to know. He needed to know now.
I scrambled to my feet, rinsed my face, brushed my teeth, and dressed in a rush, stuffing the test into a small velvet pouch I once used for jewelry. I pressed it to my chest for a moment, smiling through the tears.
This is it. This is everything.
I searched the house first, calling softly into the empty rooms.
“Xander?” My voice echoed, unanswered.
His jacket wasn’t draped over the chair, his shoes weren’t by the door.
He was already gone.
“He must be at work,” I muttered, grabbing my bag.
My hands still shook as I locked the door behind me, my mind spinning with how I would tell him.
Would I surprise him in his office? Hand him the pouch like a gift? Whisper it in his ear so only he would hear?
The thought made me giddy, nervous, deliriously happy.
By the time I reached his building, my legs felt like they were carrying me on air. My whole body hummed with anticipation. I pressed the elevator button, tapping my foot impatiently, the pouch clenched tight in my hand.
When the doors opened, I stepped out onto his floor, my heart pounding.
I could already picture the look on his face when I told him—his surprise, maybe even a smile breaking past that cool, unshakable exterior.
For once, I could give him something no contract could bind, something real, something ours.
But then I froze.
Ahead of me, just a few feet from his office door, was a figure I hadn’t expected to see.
A woman, elegant in the way of someone who knew how to command attention without trying. Her hair shimmered like spun gold under the fluorescent lights, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor.
My breath caught in my throat, the pouch nearly slipping from my grasp.
Alaina Wheeler.