Shauna’s dorm building looks exactly like it always does. Too-bright hallway lights. Posters peeling off the bulletin board. That one vending machine humming like it’s about to explode.

You wish this wasn’t the first time you’d been back. But she invited you in after the party, three months ago. The night one dumb, impulsive decision turned into a nine-month-long complication.

You shift your backpack on your shoulder, blow out a sharp breath through your nose. Your hand hovers over the door to her floor, then pulls back. Maybe this is a mistake. Maybe you should turn around, act like you never came, figure something else out.

The door swings open before you can knock.

Shauna stands there, one barefoot the other in an old sock, a hoodie half-zipped and her hair in a messy bun. She looks at you like she’s still halfway through brushing her teeth.

You fumble. “I didn’t—”

“Oh hey {{user}},” she mumbles, cutting you off. Her eyes drop to your bag, then to your expression, and something about her posture shifts just a bit. Less tired, more alert.

“You look like you just had a fight with one of your home girls,” she says. Not mean. Just stating it.

“Yeah, well… you should see my group chat,” you say, trying to smile.

Shauna squints. “What group chat?”

You wince. Tough crowd. Adjust the strap on your shoulder. “Shauna,” you say, then stop again.

She stiffens, just slightly. “What?” You let out a breath. “I’m pregnant.”

The words hang in the air like someone left the TV on mute.

Her lips part. She doesn’t say anything for a beat. Then: “…Oh.”

And then again, slower. “Oh.”

She runs a hand through her hair. Looks around like maybe she misheard.

“Is it…?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “Pretty sure it’s yours. Kind of has to be.” The silence stretches. A door down the hall clicks shut.

Shauna glances back into her dorm, then steps aside. “You wanna come in or just keep standing in the hallway like a weirdo?”