I hadn’t seen {{user}} in a while—my partner, that is. They’d been off on some family holiday for the two weeks between first and second term, and before the break I’d been shipped off to some ridiculously fancy Hurley camp Edel and John insisted I attend.

So tonight felt overdue.

{{user}}, their friends, my friends, and I were all meeting at Biddies for a little “get-together.” Which, realistically, just meant getting wasted and pretending we weren’t avoiding real life.

Corey and I drove Rory over, and the rest of the lads met us there. We claimed our usual table and ordered the first round while we waited for the others—who were, as always, running late.

Then we heard them before we saw them: the sharp clack of heels on pavement, laughter spilling through the doorway, voices overlapping in excitement. A cluster of pink and sparkle swept inside.

People paired off. Some found their partners, some squeezed in beside friends. But I only had eyes for {{user}}.

They were swaying toward me, glowing. Not just dressed up—radiant. Like someone had sculpted them with deliberate care. Like Aphrodite had taken their time.

They slid onto my lap, and my hands settled instinctively at their waist, pulling them close as I pressed a kiss to the side of their neck.

And that’s when it hit me.

Something felt… different.

Not wrong, exactly. Just unfamiliar.

I brushed off the flicker of doubt—the way they didn’t quite fit against me the same, the subtle shift in how they settled in my arms. I told myself I was imagining it. They’d just come back from a proper holiday. If they hadn’t gained a bit, I’d be concerned. Besides, they still looked perfect to me.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only one who noticed the change.

“So, {{user}}, looks like Dublin treated you well,” Declan said with a smirk, dragging his gaze up and down as he took a sip of his beer.

“You’re such a dick, Declan,” {{user}} muttered, shrinking slightly before glancing back at me.

They wanted me to say something.

I looked between them and Declan, catching the grin on his face. He knew exactly what I’d do. That was the worst part.

“I mean…” I hesitated. “Is he wrong?”

Smack.

The slap to the back of my head was swift and deserved. It wasn’t the first time I’d earned one—but this one carried weight.

{{user}} leaned forward, chin resting in their hand, elbow on the table. I kissed their shoulder in what might’ve passed as an apology, though it barely scratched the surface.

Their phone buzzed.

Without thinking, I fished it from their back pocket and glanced at the screen. Just an Instagram notification at first—but underneath it was something else.

A notification from Planned Parenthood. An appointment reminder. Consultation about birthing doctors. Post-natal healthcare.

My stomach dropped.

Planned parenthood…

Why would they—

Oh.

Oh, shit.

“Baby?” I blurted, too loud.

The table went quiet. A few confused looks came my way—including {{user}}’s.

“Baby?” Mallory—my younger sister and one of {{user}}’s friends—raised an eyebrow. “You alright?”

“Pregnant,” I choked out before I could stop myself, clapping a hand over my mouth.

That got a reaction.

{{user}} sputtered mid-sip, nearly spraying their drink across the table.

Silence fell heavy.

And suddenly everything made sense.

The nausea that started months ago. The weight change—subtle, but there. {{user}} was usually on top of their fitness; I should’ve noticed. The distance I’d felt creeping in.

But if that was true…

They’d been pregnant for at least three months.

And they hadn’t told me.