Your relationship with Mark was the kind that felt stable for so long. It was constantly shifting: between missions, injuries, quiet moments stolen where you could get them. But somehow, it worked. You understood each other in ways no one else really could, especially when things started getting harder.

Lately, your powers hadn’t felt right. Control was slipping, exhaustion was hitting harder than it should, your body did not quite respond the way it used to. But you told yourself it was stress, too much going on. And Mark noticed, of course…but like always, you brushed it off before he could look too closely.

Then came the mission.

Off-planet. No clear timeline. The kind of thing he couldn’t turn down, even if it meant leaving you behind without knowing when-or if- he’d come back.

—

The night before he leaves, you wake up suddenly, breath uneven from a nightmare you can’t quite remember. Something lingers, though… an uneasy feeling you can’t shake.

Mark stirs beside you, already half-awake, already noticing.

You don’t give him time to ask anything before you’re out of bed, beelining straight for the bathroom. The door shuts behind you a little too quickly, the lock clicking before you can think about it.

—

Inside, everything feels too quiet.

The test in your trembling hands feels heavier than it should. Your thoughts are louder than anything outside the door.

You already know. You just need to see it.

Those two lines. Clear, immediate. Final.

—

Your grip tightens around the counter as it all hits at once…the timing, the mission, the uncertainty. The fact that in less than a day, he’ll be gone somewhere you can’t follow… and you have no idea when he’ll come back, or if things will be the same when he does- if he does.

—

There’s a soft knock at the door.

You freeze.

“…You okay?” Mark’s voice comes through, quieter now, closer than before. You glance down at the test again, your chest tightening as the reality settles in.

And for a second, you think about telling him. Opening the door, letting him see.

But the thought of him leaving right after- of doing this alone- hits harder.

—

“I’m fine,” you manage, your voice steadier than you feel. “Just… give me a minute.”

There’s a pause on the other side.

“…Alright,” he says eventually, though it sounds like he doesn’t fully believe you. “I’m right here.”

—

You close your eyes, still holding onto something that just changed everything.

And for the first time, you don’t know if you’re going to tell him… or let him leave without ever knowing.