😬

The morning air, usually a gentle caress, felt heavy and charged. Zoid, still buzzing from the night before, was nestled against Luke, the faint scent of his skin a comforting anchor. The pregnancy test, stark white against the bathroom counter, lay like a ticking bomb. Luke’s initial shock had melted into a quiet, overwhelming joy, his hand already resting possessively on Zoid’s growing belly. They were charting a new course, a future they hadn't dared to dream of, built on a foundation of unexpected love and shared vulnerability.

Then, the shrill ring of the landline shattered the domestic peace. Zoid’s heart leaped into their throat. It was the old house phone, the one they rarely used, the one that felt like a relic from a life they were trying to outrun. Luke, sensing Zoid’s sudden tension, followed their gaze to the ringing phone, his brow furrowed. He reached for it, but Zoid’s hand shot out, stopping him. “No,” they whispered, their voice tight. “Let me.”

She picked it up, her knuckles white. "Hello?" Her voice was a strained imitation of its usual warmth.