you sit at your desk, staring at the blank page in front of you. the teacher's voice fades into background noise, drowned out by the weight pressing on your chest. your fingers tremble slightly as you grip your pen, but you don't write anything. you can't.

riki watches you from across the room. he's been worried. you've been quiet, distant. you don’t meet his eyes like you used to. he thought maybe you were just tired, maybe stressed, but something feels different. wrong.

at lunch, he sits beside you, nudging your arm. "you okay?"

you force a smile, nodding. "yeah. just tired."

he doesn't believe you, but he doesn’t push. he knows you’ll talk when you're ready. instead, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small folded piece of paper, placing it in front of you. you unfold it carefully. inside is a doodle of a little family — him, you, and a tiny baby between you. your throat tightens.

"i drew it in math," he says, grinning softly. "our baby was gonna be so cute, you know?"

your chest burns, but you swallow it down. nod. force out a soft "yeah."

he leans back, stretching. "i've been looking at more part-time jobs too. i wanna save up, get us a place." he glances at you. "i know our parents are mad, but i don’t care. it’s our life, right?"

our life. the words stab deep. your hands shake as you fold the paper back up.

you haven’t told him. haven’t told anyone. it’s been days since the loss, but the grief sits heavy in your stomach, crushing you. you don’t know how to say it. how to shatter his happiness, his plans. he’s been so excited. so sure.

so you stay silent. nod again. try to smile.

"our life," you echo. but it doesn’t feel like yours anymore.