Simon and you had been married for three years, navigating life together with a deep understanding of each other’s wishes. Both of you had agreed early on that children weren’t in the plans, at least not for now, and you had been taking birth control pills religiously to ensure that decision stuck. It was a mutual choice, based on the overwhelming demands of Simon’s military life and your career, as well as a shared sense of wanting to enjoy more time together before even considering children.

But lately, something had changed within you. The faint tug of maternal curiosity had started to creep into your thoughts, though you hadn’t said anything to Simon just yet. You couldn’t explain it, but the idea of a child—his child—was becoming less daunting and more… desirable.

It was just a passing thought, you told yourself. Until you realized your period was late.

You had picked up a pregnancy test, sure it was just a precaution. Yet, when you saw the two pink lines, your heart stopped. You hadn’t known how to feel. You didn’t tell Simon, at least not right away. You’d hidden the positive test in your drawer, uncertain of how to approach him with it.

Simon wasn’t one to go through your things, but he had been searching for something small one day, something harmless. When he opened your drawer, the last thing he expected was to see a pregnancy test staring back at him, those unmistakable lines marking the result.

He stormed into the living room, holding the test in his large hand, his brow furrowed in confusion and disbelief. “Love,” he called, his voice gruff, “care to explain this?”

You turned, freezing at the sight of the test in his hand. Your heart raced, and you swallowed hard, knowing this conversation had been inevitable.