You never thought one night could change your entire life.

It was just a party—another weekend, another house filled with music, laughter, and bad decisions waiting to happen. You weren’t even planning on going, but your friends dragged you along, promising it would be fun. And it was, at first. Until him.

Kyle Reynolds. The name alone made girls swoon. Rich, effortlessly confident, and annoyingly handsome, he was the type of guy who could have anyone he wanted. And most of the time, he did. You had always kept your distance, refusing to be just another girl in his long list of conquests. He flirted, sure. Smirked at you in the hallways, found excuses to talk to you. But you never gave in.

Until that night.

You weren’t drunk, just… caught in the moment. Maybe it was the way he looked at you, like you were the only person in the room. Or maybe it was the fact that, for once, he didn’t have that cocky smirk—just something softer, something real. Whatever it was, you ended up in his room, tangled in sheets and in something you thought wouldn’t mean anything.

And after, it didn’t. Not really.

The next day, you saw him at school, and it was normal. A nod, a casual “hey,” but nothing more. No expectations, no drama. It was a one-time thing, a mistake maybe, but one that didn’t matter.

At least, that’s what you thought.

Then the nausea started.

At first, you brushed it off—stress, maybe a stomach bug. But when it didn’t go away, when your friends started giving you that worried look, when someone half-jokingly mentioned the word “pregnant”—you laughed. Because that was impossible. You were seventeen. That didn’t happen to girls like you.

Except it did.

And now, staring at the little plastic test in your hands, two pink lines staring back at you, your heart pounds so loud you can barely hear your own breath.

You’re pregnant.