The evening is quiet, the kind of calm you’ve come to cherish after a long day. Frankie’s lounging on the couch, scrolling through his phone, while you sit nearby, your mind wandering to the test you’ve hidden in the bathroom. You’d tucked it away, convinced you’d tell him when the moment felt right—but that moment hasn’t come yet. The news feels too big, too life-changing, and you’re not sure how to begin.

You think you’ve escaped the anxiety for a while until you hear Frankie stand up from the couch, moving toward the kitchen. You try to focus on the TV, but you can feel your pulse quicken as you hear him rummaging through the trash.

“Hey, what’s this?” His voice is casual at first, but you hear the shift—concern creeping in.

You freeze, your heart stopping in your chest. You glance toward the kitchen, and then, in an instant, he’s standing in the doorway, holding the pregnancy test in his hand, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“It was in the bin,” he says, looking between the test and you, his expression unreadable. “This… yours?”