Tears rolled as I stared at the single line on the pregnancy test. The plump drops didn’t come because of sadness or joy, I was crying because, for the last minute, I had forgotten how to blink. The burn and sting in my eyes grew sharper, a physical echo of the seismic shock still coursing through me after the world-quaking news I’d just received. 

My heart pounded like an uncontrollable wild thing against my chest, and my breath caught in a choking gasp. 

I’d messed up. ...