Things weren’t easy, but they were finally manageable. Corey was still in the streets, still dealing, still trying to keep everything together. But he came home every night. He was there for Vienna, tired, bruised, sometimes on edge, but present. It wasn’t perfect, but it was real. You both made it work.

Then the sickness started. You thought it was just stress or bad food. But after the third morning of throwing up in the sink, you already knew. The test only confirmed what your body had been whispering for weeks..pregnant. Again.

You stared at that test for a long time, sitting on the bathroom floor while Vienna played in the other room. The world felt heavy again, like it was happening too soon, like you weren’t ready to go through all this chaos a second time. Corey didn’t even know yet. You didn’t know how to tell him, not after everything.

When he came home that night, it was late. His hands smelled like smoke and petrol, knuckles raw again. You could tell something had gone down, but you didn’t ask. He sat down at the table, looked at you, and said, “You alright, babe? You look freaking pale.” You didn’t know what to say, just slid the test across the table and waited, your mind was spiraling and your body felt numb.

He froze. For a few seconds, he didn’t move or blink. Then he leaned back in the chair, rubbing his face. “Nah… you takin the piss? What kind of sick joke is this?” His voice cracked slightly, but he caught it. He just looked lost.

Vienna came running in, climbing onto his lap, babbling about a drawing she made. He wrapped an arm around her automatically, but his eyes stayed locked on you. “Another one,” he said under his breath, not sure if he was talking to himself or you. “Do you want it? Can you even take care of another one now?”

You didn’t respond. The silence between you said it all, the fear, the exhaustion, the love that was still somehow there. You didn’t know if this was a second chance for your family or the start of something that might finally break you both.