Monica's POV
The morning sunlight streamed through my blinds, waking me with its harsh reminder of reality. My head pounded, not just from the gin, but from the sudden, horrifying realization that crashed over me.
"Oh God," I whispered, sitting bolt upright in bed.
We hadn't used protection. The stranger with the violet-blue eyes and I had been so caught up in the moment, so desperate for each other, that we'd completely forgotten the most basic precaution.
My stomach twisted with anxiety as I grabbed my phone and called the clinic. The receptionist's cheerful voice grated against my nerves as I scheduled an appointment.
"The earliest we can see you is the Thursday after next, Miss Hayes."
"That's fine," I replied, my voice shaking slightly. "Thank you."
The days leading up to my appointment passed in a fog of worry. I threw myself into work at Diego's construction company, hoping physical exhaustion would quiet my mind. It didn't.
"You're going to wear a hole in that floor," Natalie commented as I paced her living room the night before my appointment. "Whatever happens tomorrow, we'll handle it together."
I nodded, grateful yet terrified. "What if I'm—" I couldn't even say the word.
"Then we'll figure it out," Natalie said firmly. "One step at a time."
The doctor's office was sterile and cold, the waiting room filled with women in various stages of their medical journeys. Some clearly pregnant, others like me – clutching their purses with white knuckles, hoping for good news.
"Monica Hayes?" the nurse called.
Natalie squeezed my hand. "Want me to come in?"
I nodded, too nervous to speak.
Dr. Rivera was a kind-faced woman in her fifties who reviewed my chart with efficient movements. "Well, Monica, your blood work has come back. You're free of any sexually transmitted infections."
Relief washed over me, but the doctor hadn't finished.
"However," she continued, meeting my eyes with gentle professionalism, "your pregnancy test came back positive. Based on the dates you provided, you're approximately two weeks along."
The room tilted sideways. Natalie's grip on my hand tightened, anchoring me as the doctor's words echoed in my head. Pregnant. Two weeks. By a man whose name I didn't know. Whose face I'd never fully seen.
"There are options we can discuss," Dr. Rivera continued, her voice seeming to come from far away. "If you'd like to—"
"I need time to think," I interrupted, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears.
The doctor nodded understandingly. "Of course. Here's some information." She handed me several pamphlets. "Take some time, but don't wait too long to make decisions."
Outside in Natalie's car, I finally broke. Sobs tore from my throat as she held me awkwardly across the center console.
"What am I going to do?" I cried. "My parents will throw me out. I don't even know who the father is!"
"Shh," Natalie soothed, stroking my hair. "Your parents love you. And you have me. Always."
When my tears finally subsided, I stared out at the parking lot, my mind clearing for the first time since hearing the news.
"I'm keeping it," I said quietly.
Natalie turned to look at me. "You're sure?"
I placed my hand over my still-flat stomach. "Yes. This baby deserves a chance."
"Then I'm going to be the best godmother ever," Natalie declared, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "But first, we need to tell your parents."
That evening, I sat in my childhood living room, hands trembling as my parents took their usual seats. Dad in his worn leather recliner, Mom perched on the edge of the sofa. Natalie sat beside me, our shoulders touching in silent support.
"Mom, Dad," I began, my voice barely audible. "I have something important to tell you."
Their expressions shifted from curious to concerned as I recounted a sanitized version of the masquerade ball, ending with the bombshell revelation.
"I'm pregnant," I finished, tears streaming down my face. "I'm so sorry to disappoint you."
The silence that followed was deafening. My mother's face had drained of color, and my father's jaw was clenched tight.
"How could you be so irresponsible?" Mom finally whispered, her eyes filled with hurt. "After everything we taught you?"
"I know," I choked out. "I made a mistake."
Dad stood abruptly, pacing the small room. I braced myself for his anger, for the words that would cut me off from my family forever.
Instead, he stopped in front of me, his expression softening as he looked at my tear-streaked face.
"Are you planning to keep the baby?" he asked, his voice rough but controlled.
I nodded, unable to speak.
To my astonishment, he knelt in front of me, taking my hands in his. "Then you'll stay here with us. We'll help you."
"Desmond—" my mother started.
"No, Lillian," he cut her off firmly. "This is our daughter and our grandchild. We will not abandon them."
My mother stared at him for a long moment before her shoulders slumped. She moved to sit on my other side, taking my hand from Natalie.
"Your father's right," she said quietly. "It won't be easy, but we'll figure this out together. You'll continue college—"
"But the baby—" I protested.
"Will have three adults to care for him or her while you're in class," Mom finished. "Your education is non-negotiable, Monica. That child will need a mother who can provide."
Fresh tears spilled down my cheeks, but this time from overwhelming gratitude. "Thank you," I whispered. "I don't deserve this."
Dad squeezed my shoulder. "Family stands together, especially when times are tough."
Later that night, lying in my childhood bed, I placed my hand on my stomach, imagining the tiny life growing inside me. A boy, perhaps, with those unforgettable violet-blue eyes. Or a girl with my dark hair.
"I'll name you Austin if you're a boy," I whispered into the darkness, thinking of my grandfather who had always believed in me. "And I promise, no matter what happens, you will always be loved."
For the first time since the doctor's pronouncement, a sense of peace washed over me. The path ahead would be difficult, filled with challenges I couldn't yet imagine, but I wouldn't walk it alone. I had my parents, I had Natalie, and most importantly, I had this new life to fight for.
My hand still resting protectively over my stomach, I drifted off to sleep, dreaming of tiny hands and those haunting violet-blue eyes.