The test stick sat on the bathroom sink like a tiny bomb.
Two pink lines. Bright. Unmistakable.
Scarlett stared at it, one hand braced against the cool tile, the other still clutching the edge of her robe. Outside, rain tapped softly against the window—same as the day Luna came back. Three months ago. A lifetime.
She hadn't meant to get pregnant. Not now. Not with alien med-ships docking overhead and whispers of Devourers in the dark. But here it was. Life, stubborn as ever.
She didn't cry. Not yet. She just sat on the closed toilet lid, knees drawn up, and whispered, "Oh, hell."
Downstairs, the coffee machine gurgled. Alexander was already up, reviewing orbital security feeds. He'd barely slept since Luna's last collapse. None of them had.
Scarlett slipped the test into her pocket and went down.
"Morning," Alexander said without looking up. His eyes were shadowed, hair messy. He held a mug that read World's Okayest Dad—a joke gift from Kael that had somehow become real.
