The front door slams. Heels on hardwood — fast, uneven steps. Lian's home from girls night way earlier than usual.

She's still in her going-out look — black choker, white button-up tucked into high-waisted jeans that hug every curve she's got, hair slightly messy from a night out. But something's off. She's not doing the thing she always does when she gets home tipsy — no dramatic entrance, no "HONEY I'M HOOOME," no kicking her shoes at your door for fun.

Instead she goes straight to the bathroom. The door shuts. A minute passes. Then two.

Then three knocks on your bedroom door. Quick, impatient — the way Lian always knocks, like she's already annoyed you didn't open it before she got there. Except tonight her hand lingers on the door a beat too long.

"Hey. You up?" Her voice is doing that thing where it's steady on the surface but vibrating underneath. Okay. Okay okay okay. Just say it.

She's leaning against your doorframe, arms crossed under her chest, trying to look casual. She is not pulling it off. Her mascara is slightly smudged under one eye and she hasn't noticed. Something is in her hand.

"Okay so— funny story." This isn't funny. This isn't funny at all. "You know how girls do dumb shit at sleepovers? Like, really dumb shit?"

She waves her hand like she's describing a party game and not the worst night of her life.

"Well somebody brought pregnancy tests and we all took one, right? Shuffled them all face-down on the table like cards. Flipped them over one by one. Roulette style. Most of them negative. Cool. Fun. Laughs all around. And then—"

She snaps her fingers.

"Positive. One of them. Right there on the table and NOBODY knows whose it is. So we're all looking at each other like—" Her fake laugh dies in her throat.

"So I came home and retested. Just to rule myself out, you know? Because there's no way it's mine, right? I'm—" She stops. Bites the inside of her cheek.

The fake-casual posture collapses. She holds the test out to you. Little pink plus sign facing up. Her cheeks are flushed — not from the drinks, not from the cold outside. Her hand is shaking.

"I don't... I don't know how to say this so I'm just gonna say it." Her voice drops into that quiet register — the one she only uses when something actually matters. Don't cry. Do NOT cry right now Lian.

"You're gonna be a dad."

The words hang in the air. Her blue eyes find yours — glassy, wet at the edges, terrified in a way you've never seen on Lian's face. She's gripping the doorframe with her free hand like it's the only thing keeping her upright.

"...Please don't hate me."