LOGINAria had been staring at the same spreadsheet for twenty minutes, the numbers blurring into meaningless patterns. Her pen tapped against the desk in an uneven rhythm. She kept telling herself it was stress. Just stress. But her stomach coiled tighter every time she counted back the weeks in her head.
“Earth to Aria,” Janice said from across the cubicle wall. “You’ve been drilling holes into that screen all morning.”
Aria blinked and forced a smile. “Just… going over projections.”
Janice peered over the divider. “You look pale. Are you sick?”
“No, I’m fine,” Aria said quickly. “Didn’t sleep much, that’s all.”
Janice raised a brow, unconvinced, but dropped it when Liam’s office door opened. He stepped out, sharp in a charcoal suit, scanning the floor. Conversations hushed without him asking. Aria straightened automatically, praying he wouldn’t notice her distraction.
He didn’t. His gaze swept the room, landed on the board across the wall, then back to his office. Cold. Detached. Yet in the second before he turned away, Aria could’ve sworn his eyes lingered on her.
Her pulse skipped. She bent back over her screen, willing the heat in her cheeks to fade.
---
At lunch, she picked at her salad, appetite gone. Janice plopped into the chair beside her. “You’re not eating. Seriously, what’s up?”
“Nothing. Just a headache,” Aria muttered.
“Headache for three days straight?” Janice narrowed her eyes. “Girl, you’re either in love or dying. Which is it?”
Aria choked on a laugh. “Neither.”
Sophie, another coworker, leaned across the table. “I heard stress does that. Messes with your body, makes you late, makes you feel weird.”
The word late struck like a thunderclap. Aria dropped her fork, heart hammering.
Janice tilted her head. “You okay?”
“Fine,” Aria said too fast, grabbing her water. She drained half the bottle just to avoid their stares.
They exchanged looks but didn’t push. Still, Aria felt the weight of suspicion following her back to her desk.
---
By midafternoon, her nerves were frayed. She caught herself biting her nails, something she hadn’t done in years. The more she tried to act normal, the more jittery she became.
“Hayes,” Liam’s voice snapped across the floor.
She jolted upright. “Yes?”
“Report. Now.”
Her legs carried her into his office before her brain caught up. He didn’t look up from the papers on his desk. “Sit.”
She obeyed, gripping her notepad like a shield.
“You’ve missed two errors in last week’s analysis,” he said, sliding a document across the desk. “I don’t tolerate carelessness.”
Her stomach sank. “I’ll fix it immediately.”
“See that you do.” His eyes lifted, sharp and unyielding. “If you’re distracted by something, leave it at home. This company doesn’t wait for anyone to get their act together.”
Her throat tightened. She nodded, fighting to keep her voice steady. “Understood.”
He dismissed her with a flick of his hand, already bent over another file. She walked out stiffly, her cheeks burning under the weight of unspoken words. If only he knew what was clawing at her chest. If only she knew what she was going to do.
---
At home that evening, Mia was sprawled on the couch with her laptop. She looked up the moment Aria came in. “You look worse than yesterday. Spill.”
Aria dropped her bag and collapsed beside her. “I think something’s wrong with me.”
Mia shut the laptop, full attention on her. “Define wrong.”
Aria twisted her hands. “I’m late.”
Mia blinked. “Late for—oh.” Her eyes widened. “Oh.”
Aria groaned, covering her face. “Don’t make me say it out loud.”
“How late?”
“A week. Maybe more.” Her voice cracked. “I thought it was stress, but at work today, Janice and Sophie kept looking at me like I was going to fall apart. And Liam…” She trailed off, heat rushing to her cheeks. “He already thinks I’m incompetent. If this is real—”
“Stop,” Mia said firmly. She grabbed Aria’s hands and squeezed them. “First, we don’t panic until we know. Tomorrow we’re buying a test. End of story.”
Aria’s chest heaved. “And if it’s positive?”
Mia’s grip tightened. “Then we deal with it together. Whatever happens, you’re not doing this alone.”
Aria’s eyes filled, and she slumped against her friend’s shoulder. “He called that night a mistake, Mia. What happens when mistakes don’t stay buried?”
Mia stroked her hair, her voice soft but steady. “Then it’s his problem too. But right now, focus on you. One step at a time.”
Aria closed her eyes, clinging to the words. Tomorrow. Just one more day before the truth unraveled everything.
The car ride back was quiet in the way only sisters could make it—full, not empty. The kind of silence that breathed. Tracy drove with one hand on the wheel, the other tapping absently against her thigh. Evelyn sat in the passenger seat, dress bag folded in the back like a ghost neither of them wanted to acknowledge. Streetlights slid past the windshield in soft blurs. “So,” Tracy said finally. “What do you want to do?” Evelyn stared straight ahead. “I don’t know.” “That’s not an answer,” Tracy said gently. “But it’s okay if it’s the only one you’ve got.” Evelyn’s hands were folded in her lap, fingers twisting against each other, skin rubbing skin like she could wear herself down to something simpler. “I feel like everything I touch turns into a lie,” she said. Tracy’s jaw tightened. She didn’t argue. Didn’t soothe it away. “You don’t have to decide anything tonight,” Tracy said. “But you can’t keep pretending everything’s fine either. You’ll break.” Evelyn let out a breath t
“What?” The word wasn’t loud. It wasn’t sharp. It was stunned. Bare. Like Tracy hadn’t prepared her face for it at all. Evelyn didn’t repeat herself. Couldn’t. The sentence had taken something out of her, like a rib slipping loose. “I don’t think I can continue with this wedding,” she said again anyway, quieter now, like maybe volume could soften impact. Tracy took a step back. Then another. She sank onto the velvet couch as if her knees had… given up. “You’re serious,” she said. Evelyn nodded. Once. Small. Controlled. Tracy ran a hand through her hair. Let out a breath that sounded like she’d been holding it longer than Evelyn realized. “Okay,” Tracy said slowly. “Okay. Then we need to talk. Like—really talk. Not vague-feelings talk. Not ‘I’m overwhelmed’ talk.” Evelyn swallowed. “What happened?” Tracy asked. The mirror caught everything. The way Evelyn’s shoulders lifted. The way her fingers twisted the lace at her hip until it wrinkled. “Evie,” Tracy said, firmer now.
The boutique smelled like silk and perfume and something faintly sweet—vanilla, maybe. Or nostalgia. The kind that clung to the walls of places built for beginnings.Evelyn stood on a small circular platform, barefoot, the hem of the gown pooled around her like a quiet secret. Layers of ivory tulle. Lace that caught the light when she breathed. The dress fit her perfectly. Too perfectly. As if it had been waiting for her longer than she had been waiting for it.The seamstress knelt, murmuring to herself, pins flashing between her fingers. Someone adjusted the bodice at her back, tugged gently, then again.“Perfect,” the woman said softly. “Absolutely perfect.”Evelyn nodded.She’d been nodding all morning.Her reflection stared back at her from the three-way mirror—front, side, back—multiplying her into versions of herself she barely recognized. A bride. A promise. A future already written in chalk.Her chest tightened.“Evie?”Tracy’s voice came from the velvet couch behind her, warm
By the time Aria stepped out of the building, evening had already begun to loosen its grip on the day.London wore dusk well—streetlights flickering on like quiet promises, the air cool enough to make her pull her coat tighter around herself. Her heels clicked against the pavement, slower than they had that morning. Not from exhaustion exactly. From weight. The good kind. The kind that sat heavy in her chest and made her breathe a little differently.Her phone buzzed.Mia: We’re home. And before you ask—yes, they survived daycare. Barely. Allen demanded a second snack like he pays rent.Aria smiled, the kind that tugged at her mouth before she could stop it.She typed back quickly.Aria: I’m on my way. Save me some sanity.Mia: No promises.The ride home felt shorter than usual. Or maybe she was just replaying the day in her head too fast—Mr. Keane’s voice, the word Senior, the office that had been hers without warning. The quiet moment when she’d sat alone, hands trembling, and reali
Monday arrived without asking permission.It didn’t knock. It didn’t wait. It simply was—sliding in on pale morning light and the quiet, aching knowledge that life was moving again.Aria stood in the doorway of Mia’s flat, coffee cooling in her hand, watching the triplets pull on their little jackets. Allen had his own backwards. Evan was sitting on the floor, deeply offended by the existence of shoes. Lila was humming to herself, blissfully unbothered.“Okay,” Mia said, clapping her hands softly. “Team Hayes. Formation.”Aria smiled, but it felt tight around the edges.“You ready?” Mia asked, lowering her voice.Aria nodded. Once. “I think so.”She wasn’t. Not really. But readiness had never been something motherhood waited for.The drive to the daycare was quieter than she expected. The city outside the window looked different on a Monday morning—purposeful, sharp, awake. People walking fast, lives already in motion.Allen’s small hand slipped into hers at a red light.“You’re quiet
Aria woke up already tired.Not the kind of tired that sleep fixes, but the kind that lives behind the ribs. The kind that hums quietly even when the house is still.London mornings were different. Softer somehow. The light crept in sideways, pale and polite, slipping through the curtains like it didn’t want to intrude. The triplets were still asleep—miracle of miracles—and Aria lay there for a few seconds longer, staring at the ceiling, letting the unfamiliar quiet settle.Monday.Not today. But close enough to feel it breathing down her neck.She slipped out of bed carefully, pulling on a sweater, padding into the kitchen. The kettle went on. She leaned against the counter while it heated, forehead resting briefly on the cabinet.You’re doing the right thing, she told herself.She’d been saying that a lot lately.Mia shuffled in, hair a mess, wearing one of Aria’s old hoodies like it had always belonged to her.“You’re up early,” Mia said, yawning.“Couldn’t sleep.”“Of course you c







