The morning light spilled softly through the curtains, casting a golden hue across Elena's suite.
She stood in front of her mirror, dressed in a loose camisole, her eyes scanning her reflection with quiet disbelief.
Her breasts were fuller now—round, heavy, and undeniably different.
Her hips had widened, her thighs softer, her waist no longer defined the way it used to be.
She turned slightly, examining herself from the side.
"My body is really changing…" she murmured, voice low and uncertain. "I… I look bigger."
She reached for a pair of jeans—her favorite ones, the ones that used to hug her just right.
She stepped into them, tugged gently, then paused.
They wouldn't pass her hips.
She tried again, pulling harder, but the denim resisted.
She exhaled sharply, letting the jeans fall back to the floor.
"Oh my God…" she muttered, rubbing her temples. "Do I have to put on dresses all the time now?"
She glanced at the rack of new clothes Brittany had helped her pick out—flowy, forgiving, soft.
They were beautiful.
But she didn't want to always put on dresses.
She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the jeans like they'd betrayed her.
And for a moment, she didn't feel elegant or glowing.
She just felt… different.
Elena sat on the edge of her bed, still staring at the jeans crumpled on the floor.
Her thoughts were tangled—frustration, disbelief, a quiet ache she couldn't name.
Then, without warning, a sharp wave of nausea surged through her.
Her stomach twisted violently.
She gasped, clutching her middle, and scrambled to her feet.
She barely made it to the bathroom before it hit.
She dropped to her knees in front of the toilet, her body convulsing as she let it all out.
It felt endless.
Like her entire system was pouring out of her mouth—food, air, emotion.
Her arms trembled as she gripped the edge of the bowl, her breathing ragged and shallow.
She coughed once, then twice, her forehead damp with sweat.
Her chest heaved.
She was breathing so hard it felt like she couldn't catch up.
Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes—not from pain, but from sheer exhaustion.
She leaned back slightly, resting against the cool wall, her body limp.
This wasn't just morning sickness.
It was her body reminding her—loudly—that everything was changing.
Whether she was ready or not.
Elena stood in front of the mirror again, her skin pale but her posture steadier.
She had cleaned up, brushed her hair into a soft bun, and slipped into a simple olive-green dress that hugged her new curves without clinging too tightly.
She grabbed a small handbag, checked her reflection one last time, and stepped out of her suite.
Her heels clicked softly against the marble as she descended the staircase.
Halfway down, she came across Brittany, who was just coming up from the foyer.
Brittany's eyes lit up.
"Well, look who's in her second trimester," she said with a grin.
She gave Elena a quick once-over and added, "You look so good. I must say, I'm loving your body development."
Elena smiled faintly, her voice dry. "I almost died in there throwing up…"
Brittany let out a playful chuckle, waving her hand. "Oh my God, Elena, don't be ridiculous. The chauffeur's waiting now…"
Elena blinked.
"She actually took that as a joke."
But she didn't correct her.
She just smiled at Brittany, nodded, and continued her journey down the stairs.
Her body still felt heavy, her stomach unsettled, but she held herself together.
Elena sat quietly in the back seat of the car, the city humming softly around her.
She was on her way to her prenatal care session, her thoughts drifting between her symptoms and the quiet strength she was trying to hold onto.
As they approached a busy intersection, she leaned forward slightly.
"Can we stop by the supermarket?" she asked the chauffeur. "I need to grab an energy drink."
The car pulled into the lot, and Elena stepped out, her dress swaying gently as she walked through the automatic doors.
Inside, the supermarket was bustling—people moving quickly, carts rattling, soft music playing overhead.
She made her way to the drinks section, picked out a chilled citrus energy drink, and paid at the counter.
As she turned to leave, her eyes caught a figure near the magazine rack.
Slim build.
Dark hair.
A familiar posture.
Zara.
Elena froze for a moment, her heart skipping.
"What is she doing here?"
She stepped forward slowly, trying not to draw attention, but when she reached the exit and looked around—
Zara was gone.
No trace.
No glance.
Just… gone.
Elena stepped outside, scanning the parking lot.
Nothing.
"She's becoming so strange," she thought, her grip tightening around the drink. "Is she following me? Or spying?"
She looked around once more, her pulse quickening.
Then she exhaled, shook her head, and climbed back into the car.
The door shut behind her with a soft thud.
And the silence inside felt heavier than before.
The car pulled up to the prenatal care center, a sleek building with soft pastel walls and glass doors that reflected the afternoon sun.
Elena stepped out, her handbag tucked under her arm, the energy drink still cold in her hand.
She adjusted her dress and began walking toward the entrance, her mind still lingering on the supermarket.
Then, just as she reached the steps, a woman drifted past her.
She moved slowly, one hand cradling a visible baby bump, the other clutching a small purse.
Her face was mostly covered—large sunglasses, a scarf wrapped loosely around her head.
But something was off.
Elena's breath caught.
That walk… that posture…
Her heart thudded.
"Why do I feel like that's Zara again?"
The woman didn't look at her.
Didn't pause.
Just kept walking toward the side entrance of the building.
Elena hesitated for half a second.
Then followed.
She quickened her pace, trying to stay subtle, her eyes locked on the woman's back.
The scarf shifted slightly as the woman turned a corner.
Elena caught a glimpse of her jawline.
Sharp.
Familiar.
"It has to be her."
She rounded the corner, but the hallway was empty.
No footsteps.
No door closing.
Just silence.
Elena stood there, her pulse racing.
"What is going on?"
She looked around once more, her grip tightening on her bag.
And for the first time, she wondered—
"Is Zara hiding something?"
The prenatal care center's lounge was warm and softly lit, with cushioned chairs arranged in a circle.
Elena sat with her hands folded over her lap, her dress flowing gently around her legs.
Across from her sat the woman with the covered face.
Still silent.
Still unreadable.
Elena's eyes kept drifting toward her, trying to catch a glimpse—anything that would confirm what her gut was screaming.
It's Zara.
But the scarf stayed in place, the sunglasses never came off, and the woman's posture remained guarded.
Nurse Ryan stood in the center of the circle, clipboard in hand, her tone gentle and encouraging.
"Let's talk about what you've faced so far," she said. "Any symptoms, emotional shifts, or changes you didn't expect?"
A woman to Elena's left spoke first.
"I cry over everything now," she said with a laugh. "Even commercials."
The group chuckled.
Another woman chimed in. "I can't stand the smell of my husband's cologne anymore. I used to love it."
More laughter.
Elena didn't smile.
Her eyes were still fixed on the covered woman.
She hadn't spoken.
Neither had Elena.
Nurse Ryan glanced at her. "Elena? Anything you'd like to share?"
Elena blinked, startled.
She shook her head gently. "Not today."
Ryan nodded, then turned to the woman beside her.
"And you?"
The woman shifted slightly, her hand still resting on her bump.
She didn't speak.
Just gave a small shake of her head.
Elena's heart thudded.
She's hiding something.
She's hiding herself.
And Elena couldn't stop wondering—
Why?
The session ended with soft goodbyes and the rustle of handbags and papers.
Elena stood slowly, her eyes scanning the room one last time.
The woman with the covered face was already gone.
She had slipped out quickly, almost deliberately, without a word or glance.
Elena hesitated, then walked over to Nurse Ryan, who was tidying up her clipboard near the reception desk.
"I have a question," Elena said, her voice low but steady.
Ryan looked up, attentive.
"I'm just curious to know… Nurse Ryan, did anyone named Zara register here?"
Elena paused, then added, "I'm just asking because I saw someone today who looked just like her… she… she's my coursemate at school."
Nurse Ryan tilted her head slightly, thoughtful.
Then she shook it calmly.
"No, Elena. We don't have a Zara here."
Elena blinked.
Faked a small smile.
"Thank you."
Ryan nodded, returning to her notes.
Elena turned and walked toward the exit, her heels tapping softly against the tile.
She felt a quiet relief.
But it wasn't complete.
Because even with the answer, something still didn't sit right.
She stepped outside, the breeze brushing against her skin, and looked around once more.
No scarf.
No sunglasses.
No Zara.
Just silence.
And questions.