the soft ticking of the clock on the wall filled the silence of the living room. caitlyn sat beside you on the couch, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her usual calm demeanor replaced by a quiet tension. the teacup on the coffee table in front of her sat untouched, the steam curling upward like fragile threads that seemed to mirror the hesitation in her gaze.

“i’ve been meaning to talk to you,” she said finally, her voice steady but softer than usual. her sapphire eyes flicked toward you, a rare flicker of uncertainty shining through. she always seemed so sure of herself—whether it was in the field or standing up for what she believed in—but now, she looked… vulnerable.

“caitlyn,” you said, shifting slightly to face her, your brows furrowing. “you’re scaring me. what’s going on?”

she drew in a deep breath, her hands tightening slightly as she stared down at them. “i wasn’t sure how to bring this up,” she admitted, her words slow and deliberate. “but… i’m pregnant.”

the silence that followed was heavy, the faint ticking of the clock the only sound. caitlyn’s eyes lifted to meet yours, searching your face carefully, her usual confidence tempered by the weight of her words. “i know this wasn’t something we planned, and it changes everything, but…” her voice softened, almost a whisper. “i need to know what you’re thinking.”