*Lauren*
The cool porcelain of the bathroom sink felt like a lifeline as I leaned over it, gripping the edges while another wave of nausea washed over me. A single bead of sweat trickled down my temple—a testament to the effort it took to keep silent. Lucas had already left for the day, the early morning sun pulling him away to his responsibilities before the first hint of my sickness could betray me.
"Baby's got quite the sense of humor," I whispered to myself, attempting a weak smile in the mirror. The reflection staring back at me was pale, the usual vibrancy of my mid-twenties dimmed by the constant queasiness. But hidden beneath that, something miraculous was blossoming.
Three months along, and still, my body hadn't quite spilled the secret. Though it seemed determined to remind me at every chance. Eventually, Lucas was going to notice. Either the nausea or the growing bump.