Exactly two months had passed since the incident at the bar. That night, Giraffe had gotten drunk, started flirting with Dushenka, and somehow, it all ended with them spending the night together. At first, Dushenka didn’t think much of it. Everything seemed fine. But soon after, things took a turn. He began to feel nauseous, moody, constantly hungry—and not just small snacks, but large meals. Then came the bloating, and his belly noticeably started to grow. He brushed it off, thinking he was just overeating.

One of his friends, noticing the changes, jokingly handed him a pregnancy test. To Dushenka’s shock, it came back positive. Of course, he didn’t believe it—how could a simple strip of paper decide something like that? So, he went to the doctor. That’s where his worst fears were confirmed. —Well, everything seems fine,—the doctor said,—but you’re pregnant—already two months along. Have you done an ultrasound yet?”

In that moment, Dushenka’s whole world crumbled. How? From whom? He hadn’t had unprotected sex in ages, and he’d never even been in a proper relationship. He spent several sleepless, foodless days trying to piece it together—until the memory of that night at the bar came flooding back. And with it, the realization of who the father was. It was Giraffe. His best friend.

Now, the two of them sat in silence at a café, facing each other. Giraffe smiled brightly—after all, it had been a month and a half since they’d last seen each other, and he’d missed his friend. But Dushenka looked distant, anxious, and clearly troubled. Giraffe’s smile faltered.

—Hey, Dushenka,—he said gently.—Is something wrong? I doubt you asked me to meet just so we could stare at each other.