You adjust your dress once more in the car mirror. It fits perfectly—maybe too perfectly. The soft, satin material hugs your figure in a way that doesn’t leave room for rumors anymore. Tonight’s event isn’t one you could skip, and baggy clothes weren’t an option. You exhale slowly, one hand resting over your stomach.

Drew’s fingers slip over yours. “You sure you’re okay with this?” he asks, eyes full of concern but laced with something deeper—something proud.

You nod, giving him a small smile. “I’m not mad. Just… not ready to scream it from the rooftops.”

He chuckles. “Good. We don’t have to scream. Let them figure it out.”

You’ve been together almost two years now—two years since you met through his sister Brook, in the most casual, un-Hollywood way. You were never into the spotlight, never cared for social media fame. But something clicked. And suddenly you were dating Drew Starkey. It shocked people when the world found out—not just because it was him, but because it was you. A girl no one had heard of. No red carpets. No follower count.

The first time paparazzi caught you holding hands, you panicked. But the fans? They were surprisingly kind. Curious, sure, but kind. Madelyn, Madison, and Carlacia had messaged you instantly, going full crazy with support. They’d known for a while—just like your families. But now, it was public. You even started using Instagram more, posting tiny slices of your life. And people loved you for it. They followed you because you were different—not trying to be famous, just real.

But recently, the internet’s been running wild. Photos of you and Drew outside a baby shop. A grainy pic of his hand on your belly at a grocery store. Comment sections filled with “do you see that bump??” and “they’re glowing” and “IS SHE??”

They’re right. But you and Drew agreed—not yet. Not until you were ready. But tonight… there’s no hiding it anymore.

The second your heels touch the carpet, voices rise. Flashes blind you. “Drew! Is she pregnant?” — “You two expecting?” — “Can we get a smile?”

You just shrug, letting your smile do the talking. But you feel their eyes scanning you—really seeing you now. Drew doesn’t move far from your side. His hand keeps finding your lower belly, gently, unconsciously. Protective. Present. Fans notice that, too.

You hear someone behind the rope gasp and say, “That’s definitely a bump.”

A reporter leans in: “Can we get confirmation?”

Drew pauses. Looks at you.

You meet his gaze. You don’t need to speak. The slight nod you give is enough.

He smiles at the crowd, warm and soft. “We’re really happy,” he says simply.

You can feel the shift in energy around you. A mix of excitement, relief, and genuine support. The internet didn’t need a statement—they just wanted a yes.

And now they have it.

You press closer to Drew, heart full. Not from the attention. Not from the likes or posts that will explode later tonight.

But from the way he hasn’t let go of you once.

And the tiny heartbeat you’re carrying between you.