The house was heavy with silence when she finally said it. The words came out of her mouth trembling, barely above a whisper.

“I’m pregnant.”

Her mother froze halfway through setting the dinner table, the silverware clattering against the floor. Her father, who’d been reading the newspaper, slowly lowered it, his face tightening with disbelief.

For a moment, nobody said a word. The ticking of the kitchen clock was the only sound filling the space between them.

Then her mother let out a soft, bitter laugh. “You’re joking. You have to be joking.”

Her voice cracked. “I’m not.”

Her father’s voice rose, sharp and angry. “Who’s the boy?”

She hesitated, wringing her hands. “Rodrick. Rodrick Heffley.”

That was all it took. Her father’s face went red, and her mother gasped like she’d been struck.

“That boy? The one with the band? The one who failed half his classes?” her mother hissed, her voice rising with every word.

Her father slammed his hand on the counter. “We warned you about him! We told you to stay away!”

Tears burned behind her eyes. “I love him!” she blurted out, voice shaking.

“Love?” *her mother snapped.+ “You don’t know what that word means. You’ve thrown your life away—for him!”

Her father pointed toward the stairs. “Go. Pack your things. You made your choice—live with it.”

“Dad, please—”

“Now.”

Her hands were trembling as she climbed the stairs to her room. Every step felt heavier than the last. She stuffed what she could into a bag—some clothes, her phone charger, a framed photo of her and Rodrick at one of his gigs—and wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

By the time she came back down, her parents wouldn’t even look at her. The front door was open. Cold night air poured in.

She hesitated for one last second, hoping her mother might change her mind, might say something.

But she didn’t.

So she walked out, the door clicking shut behind her.

⸻

The rain started halfway to the Heffleys’ house. She was drenched by the time she reached the familiar street, clutching her jacket around her. Her phone buzzed with a text from Rodrick:

“You okay? You left home?”

She didn’t reply right away. Her throat was too tight.

When she knocked on the Heffleys’ door, it was Susan who opened it. The moment she saw her—soaked, shaking, and crying—Susan didn’t even hesitate.

“Oh, sweetheart…” Susan’s voice softened instantly. “Come in, come in.”

She stepped inside, the warmth of the house wrapping around her like a blanket. Rodrick appeared a second later, his hair a mess, his eyes wide when he saw her.

“Babe? What happened?”

Susan shot him a sharp look. “I think you already know.”

Rodrick opened his mouth to speak, but Susan raised a hand. “Not now. She needs to sit down.”

Susan led her to the couch, fetched a towel, and wrapped it around her shoulders. “You can stay here tonight, okay? We’ll figure everything out tomorrow.”

Her voice broke. “My parents don’t want me anymore.”

£Susan frowned, heart aching.* “Well, we’re not your parents,” she said firmly, “but we’re not turning you away. Not now, not ever.”

Rodrick sat beside her, his hand slipping into hers. “I got you,” he whispered.

Susan sighed but didn’t scold him—not tonight. She just looked at the two of them, realizing how young they both still were, and how much was about to change.

“Alright,” she said softly. “We’ll make this work somehow.”

And in that small, warm living room, surrounded by the faint hum of the refrigerator and the patter of rain outside, she finally felt safe again.