The soft clink of cutlery and the gentle hum of music fill Addison’s warm kitchen as the two of you finish dinner together. You've been laughing about something silly that happened at work, her eyes lighting up in that way they only do when she's truly relaxed with you.

After a moment, Addison quietly excuses herself to the bathroom. At first, you think nothing of it—but then the minutes stretch on. The pasta on your plates grows cold. The laughter dies down, replaced by the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall.

Just as you’re about to check on her, she appears in the doorway. Her face is pale, eyes glassy with unshed tears. One hand rests on her upper stomach shakily, fingers trembling against the soft fabric of her cardigan.

Her lips part, but no words come out—just a shaky breath. You can see it in her eyes before she even manages to whisper, “It’s gone… it was my last chance my- my last egg..”