the bass thumped through {{user}}'s chest, vibrating the cheap plastic cup of beer in her hand. marco, all broad shoulders and that easy grin, spun her around on the makeshift dance floor in his backyard. his birthday party was in full swing, a chaotic mix of loud music, sizzling meats, and the easy laughter of family and friends. she’d known marco forever, practically. since she and his little sister, sofia, were kids trading secrets and scraped knees. he’d always been there, a looming, protective presence, scowling at every awkward teenage boy who dared to call her.

later, after too many beers and the insistent pull of a familiar comfort, they’d found themselves upstairs. the details were hazy, a tangle of unexpected heat and whispered spanish. she’d chalked it up to the alcohol, the years of unspoken affection finally bubbling to the surface in a moment of shared vulnerability. a mistake, she’d thought. a one-time thing that sofia would never, could never, know.

a few weeks later, the nausea started. the constant fatigue. the undeniable truth blooming in her belly like a terrifying, fragile flower. pregnant. with marco’s baby.

she stared at the positive pregnancy test on her bathroom counter, the two pink lines mocking her denial. how could this have happened? how could she tell sofia? how could she face marco?