The word pregnant doesn't echo.
It hangs.
Like smoke after a gunshot. Like everyone's waiting for someone else to admit they heard it wrong.
Arrow doesn't move.
Not a blink. Not a breath. He just stands there, staring at Maddie like she's suddenly speaking a language he never bothered to learn.
"You're—" His voice cracks. He clears his throat, tries again. "You're sure?"
I roll my eyes. Of course you do, sweetheart. First response: denial. Predictable as gravity.
Maddie's chin lifts. Defensive. Proud. Terrified. All at once. "Yes."
"How?" Carson blurts out, then winces. "I mean—how far along?"
She hesitates. Too long.
"Eight weeks," she says finally.
Eight.
I do the math instantly. Of course I do. I always do. My brain is cruel like that.
Arrow's face drains of whatever color it had left. "That's not—" He stops. Swallows. "That's not possible."
"It is," she says sharply. "I didn't make this up."
"No," he replies, shaking his head. "I mean—it doesn't line up. We were barely—"
"Careful," I murmur. "You're about to say something you can't unsay."
He ignores me. Big mistake.
"We were barely together then," he says, turning back to Maddie. "You were traveling. You said—"
"I came back early," she snaps. "For you."
Ah.
There it is.
Carson rubs his face like he's watching a slow-motion car crash. "Why didn't you say anything sooner?"
Maddie's eyes flick to me. Then away. "I wanted to be sure."
"And?" I prompt sweetly. "Now you are."
She finally looks at me fully. Her gaze is sharp now. Cornered animals grow teeth.
"Yes," she says. "Now I am."
The room feels smaller. Like the walls leaned in to listen.
Arrow finally sits. Hard. Like his legs gave up without consulting him.
"This is… a lot," he mutters.
"No shit," I say. "Congratulations. You've discovered consequences."
He looks up at me, stunned. "Can you not do this right now?"
"Do what?" I ask innocently. "Acknowledge reality?"
Maddie's voice trembles. "I knew you'd react like this."
"Like what?" Arrow snaps. "Confused?"
"Like you're already pulling away."
I laugh. I can't help it. It slips out, sharp and ugly.
"Oh, don't flatter yourself," I say. "He pulled away long before today."
Arrow glares at me. "Stop."
"No," I reply calmly. "You don't get to ask for silence now."
Carson steps between us, palms up. "Everyone needs to breathe."
I step closer instead.
"Maddie," I say softly, "tell me something."
She stiffens. "What?"
"Did you tell him because you wanted honesty," I ask, "or because you were losing control?"
Her lips part. Close.
Arrow turns to her. "Answer."
Silence.
That's all the answer I need.
"You didn't plan to say this today," I continue. "You planned to say it when he slipped far enough that panic kicked in."
"That's not true," she snaps, but her voice is weak. Fractured.
"Isn't it?" I tilt my head. "Then why now?"
She looks at Arrow. Pleading. "Because I love you."
He closes his eyes.
That hurts him more than anger ever could.
"I never said I didn't care," he says quietly. "But this—this changes everything."
"That's what babies do," Carson mutters.
I smile. "Not babies. Information."
Arrow looks at me again. "What do you want?"
Ah. Finally. The real question.
"I want the truth," I say. "From all of you. Especially you."
He exhales. "About what?"
"About whether this is real," I say. "Or whether you're being cornered."
Maddie's eyes flash. "That's disgusting."
"No," I reply. "It's accurate."
She steps toward me. "You think I'd lie about this?"
"I think you'd delay it," I correct. "Until it benefited you."
Arrow stands abruptly. "Enough."
His voice is sharp now. Commanding. He looks between us, jaw tight.
"I need air," he says. "All of you—stop."
He turns toward the balcony.
And that's when Carson speaks.
"Arrow," he says slowly, "there's something else."
Arrow freezes.
I grin. Oh, this day just keeps giving.
Maddie spins to Carson. "No."
Carson ignores her. "You said eight weeks. Are you sure about the date?"
"Yes," she snaps. "I told you—"
"You told me what you thought," Carson interrupts. "Not what the doctor confirmed."
Arrow turns back, eyes sharp. "Doctor?"
Maddie's face goes white.
"You went to a doctor?" he asks.
She hesitates.
My smile fades. Interesting.
"Maddie," Arrow says, voice low. "Did you see a doctor?"
"Yes," she says quickly. "I mean—no, not yet, but—"
Carson cuts in. "She took a test. At home."
Ah.
There it is.
Arrow laughs once. Bitter. Hollow. "So this is based on a stick."
"It was positive," Maddie says desperately. "Twice."
"That's not the same as a confirmation," he snaps.
She starts crying. Real tears this time. Messy. Loud.
"I knew you'd do this," she sobs. "I knew you'd try to logic your way out of it."
I watch Arrow's face harden.
Not toward her.
Toward himself.
"I'm not running," he says. "I'm asking for clarity."
"You don't need clarity," she cries. "You need to step up."
The words step up land like a slap.
I see it then. The shift. The fracture.
Arrow looks at me.
Really looks.
And in his eyes, I see it: not love, not desire—fear.
Fear of being trapped.
Fear of being responsible.
Fear of choosing wrong.
I step closer, lowering my voice so only he hears.
"This is the moment," I say. "Whatever you do next becomes who you are."
He swallows.
"Maddie," he says suddenly. "If you're pregnant… we'll handle it."
Her sobs quiet. Hope flares.
"But," he continues, "I won't be forced into anything."
Her hope collapses into fury.
"So she gets a choice," Maddie says, pointing at me, "but I don't?"
I meet her gaze. Cold. Steady.
"You had a choice," I say. "You just used it late."
Carson's phone buzzes again. He checks it, then stiffens.
"What?" Arrow asks.
Carson looks up, uneasy. "It's the clinic."
Maddie's head snaps up. "What clinic?"
Carson hesitates.
I laugh softly. "Oh. You didn't tell her either."
Arrow's voice is deadly calm. "Carson."
Carson exhales. "I booked an appointment. For confirmation. Tomorrow morning."
Maddie stares at him. Betrayed. "You had no right."
"I had every right," he replies. "This affects more than feelings."
Arrow runs a hand through his hair. "Tomorrow," he repeats.
I step back, letting the moment breathe.
Tomorrow changes everything.
Maddie wipes her face, eyes blazing now. "If you go to that appointment," she says to Arrow, "and it's positive, you don't get to walk away."
Arrow meets her gaze. "And if it's not?"
She doesn't answer.
Silence again.
Thick. Loaded.
I grab my coat.
Arrow looks at me sharply. "Where are you going?"
I pause at the door, turning slowly.
"Home," I say. "I don't need to stay for the aftermath."
He takes a step toward me. "Wait."
I smile. Small. Dangerous.
"No," I reply. "You'll decide tomorrow. Without me in the room."
His jaw tightens. "That's not fair."
I open the door.
"Nothing about this is," I say. "Goodnight."
I leave before anyone can stop me.
In the hallway, my phone vibrates.
A text from Arrow.
Don't disappear.
I don't reply.
Instead, another message comes through.
Unknown number.
If the test comes back positive, everything changes.
Be ready.
I stare at the screen, pulse steady.
Ready for what?
I smile to myself as the elevator doors close.
Tomorrow will tell us whether Maddie's holding a future—
Or a lie.
And either way?
Someone's world is about to collapse.
I can't wait.