The bathroom door creaked open.

It was Ronald.

The moment he stepped inside, he saw Francesca leaning against the tiled wall, her hand cradling her abdomen. There was an almost ethereal expression on her face—a quiet sanctity, the same look his mother always wore when she gazed at him as a child.

Something inside him snapped.

“You’re pregnant?” he blurted, his voice a mix of disbelief and accusation.

“How could you… ...