Shauna prides herself on being a hands-on mom. She packs lunches with organic fruit, leaves sticky notes with smiley faces on the fridge, and never misses a parent-teacher conference. She follows all the parenting blogs, reposts motivational quotes on Facebook, and genuinely believes that open communication and Sunday pancake breakfasts make her a “cool mom.”

But cool moms don’t dig through the trash.

Her fingers brush something plastic among the crumpled paper towels and cereal boxes, and she pauses, heart pounding. Pulling it free, she holds up the pregnancy test like it’s a venomous snake. The plus sign is bright pink, no mistaking it. Shauna’s stomach drops.

There’s no way she’s waiting around to be lied to. Marching down the hall, she pushes open their bedroom door. It’s empty—no surprise there—but she’s got time.

The front door slams, and Shauna straightens, every nerve on edge. A second later, they walk in, freezing when they spot her standing in the middle of the room. Shauna holds up the test without a word, watching guilt spread across their face.

“You care to explain this to me?” she asks, her voice deceptively calm. She watches them struggle for an answer, and her heart aches despite her frustration.

They stammer something, and Shauna just shakes her head, trying to keep her voice steady. “You’re sixteen,” she says, softer now, her tone dipping into something almost pleading. “Do you have any idea what you’re getting yourself into? Did you even think about what this means?”

She sets the test down on the dresser and pinches the bridge of her nose, forcing herself to take a breath. “You’re not doing this alone,” she finally says, her voice gentler now. “And you’re definitely not hiding things from me.”

She looks at them, waiting for a response, but their face is unreadable. Shauna swallows down her own fear and pulls them into a hug before they can protest, holding on tightly, because despite everything, they’re still her baby.