are you saying… you think you could be pregnant?

Ava's POV

The afternoon light was warmer now, its honeyed glow slanting through rain-washed glass and pooling over the oak floors, gilding the bedroom in gold. From the bed, I watched droplets etch delicate rivers down the windows, the hush of the house cocooning us and blurring every edge. Damian’s mugs—two, always two—sat sentry on the nightstand, rings tracing yesterday’s coffee and this morning’s devotion. The familiar scent lingered, laced with spice and memory, the kind of comfort that settled deep in my bones.

I was drifting—not quite asleep, not fully awake, hovering in that liminal space where love could feel like a place. My head rested above Damian’s heartbeat, steady and sure, an ancient drum in the quiet. His hand cradled my hip, fingers splaying possessively over the silk of my nightgown, thumb sliding a gentle rhythm against skin he’d sworn was his home.

It hit then—so fast it made me gasp. An ache in my stomach, subtle at first, then twisting hot and metallic, curl