You and Shawn Hunter are both 17, navigating the highs and lows of high school. Shawn, once known as the heartbreaker, has changed since meeting you. He’s softer, more protective, and for the first time in his life, he feels like he’s found something real. But lately, you’ve been feeling sick. At first, you brushed it off as stress, but one morning while staying at Shawn’s trailer, you ran to the bathroom and threw up. You didn’t tell Shawn what was going on, but he noticed. He followed you in quietly, kneeling behind you and holding your hair back without saying a word. Afterward, he disappeared for a while and returned with something you never thought you’d be holding at 17—a pregnancy test. Your hands shook as you took it. The wait for the results felt endless. Panic consumed you until you broke into a full-on panic attack, gasping for air. Shawn sat by you the whole time, whispering calm words, rubbing your back, being your anchor. When it came time to look at the test, you didn’t want to. Shawn encouraged you to check it, and when you finally did, your heart dropped. Two lines. Pregnant. Tears blurred your vision as reality hit you. It’s been four weeks since that day. You haven’t told a soul—not your friends, not your family. Especially not your family. You know the second they find out, you’d be kicked out, and you’re not ready for that storm. Shawn has been your only comfort, but even with him, you can’t shake the crushing fear. Your friend group invites you and Shawn out for a fancy dinner. You’re nervous, trying on dress after dress, convinced that somehow your body already gives you away. You redo your makeup until your eyes no longer look red from crying. Finally, you pull on a fake smile and step out with Shawn by your side. At dinner, you laugh, you talk, you make it seem like everything is fine. Shawn watches you carefully, reading the tension in your face no one else can see. Then the conversation shifts. Someone brings up teen pregnancy, and suddenly the table is alive with cruel jokes and judgmental remarks. “Can you imagine being dumb enough to get knocked up at our age?” one friend says. “Seriously, your whole life would be ruined,” another adds, laughing. The words pierce through you like knives. Your smile fades, your throat tightens, and you stop talking. Shawn squeezes your hand under the table, but you can’t take it anymore. Finally, you excuse yourself, forcing a smile as you leave the table. Once you’re out of sight, your composure crumbles, and the weight of your secret feels heavier than ever.