Married To Mr. Vice

Kimberly's heart raced as she paced around her bedroom, the anxiety tightening its grip on her. The walls of her bedroom seemed to close in on her, amplifying her panic. 

Three pregnancy kits, perched on the bathroom counter, felt like ominous oracles, holding the power to alter her life in a single revelation.

"Not all nightstands result in pregnancies," she whispered to herself, a mantra trying to soothe her frayed nerves. 

The seconds crawled by, each tick of the clock echoing her growing trepidation. She yearned for the simplicity of a single line on that test, a confirmation of her desperate hope to not be pregnant.

As she awaited the verdict, Kimberly's mind swirled with fear. She couldn't fathom being pregnant by a stranger, a mere encounter whose details were now a foggy blur. 

The consequences of one night threatened to redefine her entire existence, and the uncertainty of it all overwhelmed her. 

How would she explain to anyone that she was pregnant for a complete stranger due to her recklessness? A stranger whose only information she had was his first name, which of course, could have been a lie.

How could she have made such a mistake? Wasn't she supposed to be smarter than this?

A pang of regret surged through her, realizing that her reckless actions might have irrevocable consequences. She clung to the notion that maybe this was just a scare, a false alarm.

She returned to the bathroom and picked up one of the plastic sticks once again with trembling hands, but the lines were yet to appear on any of them. It was sure taking its sweet time in torturing her.

This had to be the longest five minutes of her life, or maybe nature was punishing her for being stupid —stupid for hitting the bed with a stranger. Something she had never done in her life until weeks ago.

Tears welled up in her eyes, reflecting the fear that gnawed at her soul.

"I can't be pregnant," she pleaded with the universe, hoping it would heed her desperate plea.

As much as she wanted to be hopeful, the current delay in her cycle and changes in her body reeled in the dread, and she feared her case might just be different — different in a devastating way.

She glanced at the kit again, and a sudden jolt of horror gripped her when she saw the two dreaded red lines that signified her life was over.

She glanced at the other two kits, and like the one she was holding, they each bore two lines that bore testament to the fact that she was indeed pregnant, and that for a man she knew nothing but his first name. Nicholas.

"Ah!" she exclaimed, envisioning a future she hadn't anticipated.

The bathroom seemed colder now, as if nature itself was passing judgment on her impulsive act. Kimberly sank onto the bathroom floor, feeling the weight of her actions bear down on her.

"What have you done to yourself, Kimberly?" she lamented as she broke into a sob.

After crying for some time, she decided that she needed to talk to someone. She needed her best friend, Carol.

She rose up and after splashing some water on her face, she returned to her bedroom to pick up her phone and give Carol a call. 

"Are you really sure it's positive? Sometimes these kits give false-positive results. It might just not be accurate," Carol said a few minutes later after Kimberly had told her the result of her one night of recklessness. 

She wanted to cling to that one percent inaccuracy rate of pregnancy kits that the manufacturers sometimes fail to inform the public about. 

"I used three different brand, Caroline. Three. And they were all positive. They all can't be wrong. There is no mistake. I'm pregnant." She affirmed, and no amount of convincing could tell her otherwise. 

Her breasts were tender and sore, she couldn't stand the smell of her favorite fries, and the weakness — these were the symptoms that had prompted her to conduct a test. Not even her absent periods. 

Carol went silent for a while, and Kimberly knew the reality of her predicament was finally kicking in on her best friend. The echoing silence had her heart beating violently again, and chills crawled up her skin.

"What do I do, Carol?" Kimberly asked in a shaky voice. 

"You know what? Come over to the hospital," Carol suddenly suggested since she was a medical doctor. 

"Huh?"

"Come to the hospital let's run a real pregnancy test," She repeated. "I won't be convinced about this till you do a blood test. Only then can we be sure, so come over." Carol told her matter-of-factly. 

Aside from wanting to conduct a blood test, Carol didn't think the conversation was one to have over the phone. 

She could tell from Kimberly's voice that she had cried a lot.

She would probably cry too if she found out she was pregnant right now. But maybe in her case, it might be tears of Joy. But this wasn't about her, it was about her best friend, Kimberly, who was scared, worried and alone in her apartment.

She believed that Kimberly needed a hug, and since she couldn't abandon her shift to go to Kimberly, she figured it was best to make Kimberly come to her.

Kim briefly pondered on it. "Carol, I don't think—"

"There is no thinking here. Just bring yourself over here immediately. Where are you?" 

Kimberly's gaze darted around her unkempt bedroom and she answered, "Home?"

"Good. Now, get yourself over here. I will fill out the forms while I wait." She said, and with no further delay or waiting for a response, she disconnected the call. 

Despite hearing the disconnecting beep from the phone, Kimberly mindlessly answered, "Okay." She had no reason to go to the hospital, because the solid conviction in her was all she needed to know she was pregnant. Pregnant and screwed.

But convictions aside, Kimberly couldn't deny the faint pricking at the apex of her heart that wanted to share in Carol's optimism. 

Maybe she wasn't pregnant. Maybe it was all the hormonal imbalance she has been suffering for years now. Her period miss were usual; the breast tenderness could be a result of her hormones being jungled up, and the weakness, an inevitable result of all the sleepless nights she kept due to overworking herself.

Kim felt the slow bloom of those hopeful thoughts in her heart, and suddenly wanting to cling to the possibility that it could be true, she quickly fixed herself before leaving for the hospital.

Kimberly's heart hammered all the way to the hospital and she kept muttering silent prayers, hoping for a negative result.

But as it turned out, it was always better to be honest with oneself and accept the truth we already know, than hold on to the frail line of impossibilities being made possible.

Kimberly realized not all desires could come true as she held the test results in her hand, once again confirming what she already knew, but only more detailed this time. 

She was ten weeks pregnant.