The box felt heavier than it should. Aria tucked it deeper into her bag as she and Mia walked back from the pharmacy, every step louder than the last.

The streets buzzed with weekend life—families with kids, couples hand in hand, music spilling from café doors. Aria barely saw any of it. All she could see was the word on the bag: test.

Mia nudged her with an elbow. “Stop looking like you’re carrying contraband. Nobody cares.”

Aria hugged the bag closer. “Easy for you to say. I feel like everyone knows.”

“No one knows. And if they did, they wouldn’t care. You’re not the first girl in the world to buy one.”

Aria shot her a look. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

Mia sighed and looped her arm through hers. “Come on. Let’s go home. The longer you stall, the worse it’ll get.”

By the time they reached the apartment, Aria’s stomach was in knots. She tossed her bag onto the counter, pacing the tiny living room.

Mia dropped onto the couch and kicked her feet up. “Well? What are you waiting for? Christmas?”

Aria glared at her. “I can’t just—walk in there and do it.”

“You can. You will. Or do you want me to hold your hand while you pee?”

Aria groaned. “God, Mia!”

“Then stop being dramatic and go.”

Aria’s throat tightened. “What if it’s positive?”

“Then you’ll know. Right now you’re torturing yourself with ‘what ifs.’ Rip the Band-Aid off, Aria.”

She swallowed hard, grabbed the box, and headed to the bathroom before her courage crumbled.

The click of the lock echoed louder than it should. She tore the box open with trembling hands, the instructions swimming in front of her eyes. She forced herself to focus, to breathe, to do what had to be done.

Two minutes. That was all it would take. The test lay on the sink, face down. Her knees bounced as she sat on the edge of the tub, staring at the floor tiles, her heart thundering.

Mia’s voice came muffled through the door. “You okay in there?”

“No,” Aria whispered. She cleared her throat. “Just waiting.”

“Don’t overthink it. Time’s gonna pass whether you stare at it or not.”

Easy for Mia to say. Aria’s palms were clammy, her chest tight. She pressed her fists to her knees, counting seconds, her breath shallow.

Finally, she stood. Slowly, as if the stick might explode, she turned it over.

Two lines.

Her stomach dropped. The air left her lungs. She blinked hard, as if her vision might be wrong, but the result didn’t change.

Positive.

Her body went cold. She staggered back until she hit the wall, sliding down to the floor, the plastic stick clattering beside her.

The door rattled. “Aria? Open up. You’re scaring me.”

Her voice cracked. “Mia…”

A second later, Mia was kneeling beside her, arms wrapping tight. Aria broke, sobs tearing free as she buried her face in her friend’s shoulder.

“It’s positive,” she choked out. “Oh God, it’s positive.”

Mia smoothed her hair, whispering steady words. “Okay. Okay. Breathe. We’ll figure it out.”

Aria shook her head violently. “I can’t. I can’t do this. Mia, this wasn’t supposed to happen. It was one night. One stupid, reckless night!”

“Hey,” Mia murmured, holding her tighter. “You’re allowed to cry. Get it out. But you’re not alone.”

Aria clutched at her friend like she was the only thing keeping her grounded. Tears blurred her vision, her chest heaving with every ragged breath.

“He said it was a mistake, Mia. A mistake. What am I supposed to tell him? That his mistake comes with consequences?”

Mia pulled back, gripping her face gently. “First of all, don’t even think about him right now. This is about you. Your body. Your life. One step at a time.”

“But it changes me,” Aria whispered. Her hands pressed to her stomach, trembling. “I don’t even know who I am anymore. How did I let this happen?”

“Because you’re human,” Mia said softly. “Because you were hurting and lonely, and you wanted to feel alive for once. That doesn’t make you weak. It makes you real.”

Aria’s tears spilled harder. “I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can.” Mia’s voice turned firm. “You’re stronger than you think. And you’re not alone. I’m right here. Always.”

Aria shook her head, curling in on herself. “Work—what if people notice? What if they already know something’s off? Janice was asking questions. Sophie too. I can’t even look him in the eye at the office. If they find out—”

“Stop spiraling,” Mia cut in. “You’ll deal with work when it comes. Right now, all you need to do is breathe and let yourself process this. We’ll make a plan after.”

Aria wiped her face with the back of her hand, though the tears wouldn’t stop. “I don’t feel strong, Mia. I feel like I’m drowning.”

Mia kissed her forehead, holding her tighter. “Then lean on me until you can swim again.”

The evening blurred into silence broken by occasional tears. Aria sat curled on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, the test box shoved deep in the trash.

Every now and then she caught herself touching her stomach, a fresh wave of panic rolling through her.

Mia brought tea, pressing the mug into her hands. “Sip. You’ll feel a little better.”

Aria obeyed, though the liquid tasted like nothing. “How do I even face him?” she whispered.

“You don’t—not yet,” Mia said. “You focus on you. He’s not the priority right now. You are.”

Aria stared into the mug, her voice breaking. “What if he hates me?”

“Then that’s his loss.”

Her chest squeezed, but Mia’s words rooted somewhere deep. Aria leaned back, exhausted, her tears finally slowing. The world outside carried on—cars, laughter, music—but in their tiny apartment, time stood still.

She had no answers, no plan, no strength left. All she had was Mia’s arm around her and the heavy truth pressing inside her.