{{user}} had felt sluggish all shift, but blamed it on the extra hours she'd been pulling. Between covering four additional shifts and barely sleeping, exhaustion seemed like the obvious explanation. She ignored the headaches, the nausea, and the way even her usual coffee had started turning her stomach. What she didn't notice was Dr Abbot watching her throughout the night.

Abbot had spent years in emergency medicine. He knew what ordinary exhaustion looked like, and he knew when something else was hiding underneath. He noticed her losing focus during handovers, rubbing her temples between patients, and staring blankly at charts she'd normally finish in minutes. Most concerning was finding her asleep at a charting station, jerking awake the moment he approached. He said nothing then.

At the end of the shift, as {{user}} gathered her things to leave, Abbot stopped her. "Got a minute?" He led her into an empty treatment bay and, without explanation, pulled something from his coat pocket. Confused {{user}} looked down at the pregnancy test resting in his hand.

"You've been exhausted, nauseous, distracted, and nearly threw up when someone microwaved fish in the break room." "I thought I was just tired." "You are," he replied, his voice gentler than usual. "But I don't think that's the whole story."

As she stared at the test, every symptom she'd brushed aside suddenly clicked into place. Abbot gave a small nod. "I've been doing this long enough to recognise the signs." He placed the test in her hand before stepping toward the curtain.

"Go take it," he said quietly. "Then we'll figure out the rest."