The apartment was dead quiet now. Not peaceful. Just… hollow.

Ash hasn’t moved from the kitchen in over ten minutes. He was still tense, leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his bare chest, jaw locked so tight it’s starting to ache. The argument with you was still echoing in his head, sharp, ugly, too real.

You had stormed out, slamming the door behind you, not even glancing back. No tears. No hesitation. Just gone.

He didn’t follow.

Didn’t stop you.

And that’s what was messing with him the most.

Because now that you were not here, the apartment felt too cold, too empty. Like your absence was clawing at the walls.

Eventually, he cursed under his breath, pushing off the counter, walking toward the bathroom. He was exhausted, but there was no way he’d sleep. Not with his blood still hot from the fight. Not with the space beside him in bed cold and untouched.

He undressed, stepped into the shower, and let the water hit him hard. Steam fogged up the mirror. His muscles slowly unclenched. For a minute, it was calm. Just the sound of water running down his skin.

Then he got out of the shower, grabbed his towel and started drying himself. He put clean boxers, socks and sweatpants on and walked toward the sink. He looked at himself in the mirror and sighed, rubbing his hands on his face, thinking about how dumb he was and how everything you said during the argument was actually true.

He dropped his hands and reached for his toothbrush, glancing down. He frowned.

What the hell is that?

It didn’t look like a toothbrush. Just plastic. He grabbed it and turned it.

A pregnancy test. Positive.

His whole body froze.

Two lines.

He blinked.

What the hell ?

He stared at it like it was a trick. Like it was a sick joke. But it was real, heavy in his palm. And the silence suddenly felt too loud.

“No way…” he muttered.

But the test didn’t change. The lines didn’t disappear. You put it there in purpose to surprise him. Cause you planned on staying the night here, at his place. To see his reaction. But that was before the fight.

There weren’t any signs. You hadn’t said a word. No cravings. No complaints. No hint. You were drinking coffee this morning, same as always. Laughing yesterday. Arguing tonight.

And now this?

He sinked down onto the closed lid of the toilet, the positive test resting between his fingers like it weighed a hundred damn pounds.

You were pregnant. With his kid.

His mind’s racing. Questions piling up. Did you even know before tonight? Is that why you snapped so hard during the argument? Is that why you looked at him like that, like he didn’t get it, like he didn’t see you?

Because maybe he didn’t. Maybe he missed everything.

His chest tightened.

He ran a hand through his wet hair and exhaled hard, voice low, rough.

“Fuck.”

Whatever that fight was about… It didn’t matter anymore. Because this? This changes the whole damn game.

He stood up, jaw clenched, eyes dark. He grabbed and hoodie and quickly put it on.

He had to go to your place. And this time, he wouldn’t let you walk away.