He stood again, clearly needing to move, to process. "What are you going to do?"
The question hung in the air between us.
"I don't know yet," I admitted. "I just found out an hour ago."
He nodded slowly, his jaw tight. "Okay. Okay." He grabbed his jacket. "I need… I need some time to think about this."
"Ethan"
"Please, Mira." His eyes met mine, and I saw something that terrified me more than his panic. Distance. "I just need some time."
And then he was gone, the door closing behind him with a soft click that felt impossibly final.
I stood there in the middle of my living room, one hand pressed against my stomach, tears streaming down my face.
This was supposed to be the moment where he held me and told me everything would be okay. Where he said we'd figure it out together.
Instead, he'd walked out.
And I'd never felt more alone in my life.
Six Weeks Earlier
The sunlight streaming through Ethan's bedroom window felt like assault. I groaned, burying my face in the pillow a pillow that smelled distinctly like expensive cologne and something uniquely Ethan.
Wait.
Ethan's pillow. Ethan's bed.
My eyes snapped open.
I was naked. Completely, utterly naked. And the warm body pressed against my back was definitely not a pillow.
"Oh god," I breathed.
The arm draped over my waist tightened, and Ethan's sleep-rough voice murmured into my hair. "Mm, five more minutes."
Every moment from last night crashed over me in vivid detail. The birthday party. The tequila shots. Dancing in his living room after everyone left. The way he'd caught me when I stumbled, and suddenly we were too close, and then….
"We didn't," I whispered.
"We definitely did," Ethan said, fully awake now. "Multiple times, if I remember correctly. Which I do. Vividly."
I turned to face him, clutching the sheet to my chest. His hair was a mess, his eyes still heavy-lidded with sleep, a slight stubble shadowing his jaw. He looked unfairly gorgeous, and the heat in his gaze as he looked at me made my stomach flip.
"This is bad," I said.
"Is it though?" His hand traced lazy patterns on my bare shoulder. "Because from where I'm lying, last night was pretty incredible."
It had been. That was the problem. Seven years of friendship, of buried attraction, of "we're better as friends" had combusted into the most intense, passionate night of my life.
"Ethan, we're best friends."
"I'm aware." His fingers trailed down my arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "We're also apparently really good at"
"Don't." I pressed my hand against his chest, trying to ignore how solid and warm he felt. "We can't do this. We can't ruin what we have."
Something flickered across his face hurt? disappointment? before he covered it with that easy smile. "Right. Of course. The friendship is more important."
"Isn't it?"
He was quiet for a long moment, his eyes searching mine. "Yeah," he finally said, but his voice was tight. "It is."
I started to get up, looking for my clothes, but his hand caught my wrist.
"Mira, wait." He sat up, the sheet pooling at his waist. "Can we just… talk about this? Instead of you running away?"
"I'm not running away."
"You're literally gathering your clothes while avoiding eye contact."
He had a point. I sat back down on the edge of the bed, still clutching my dress from last night. "What do you want me to say, Ethan? That I've been attracted to you for years? That last night felt like something I've been waiting for? That waking up in your arms felt right?"
His breath caught. "Mira"
"But none of that matters," I continued, my voice breaking slightly. "Because you don't do relationships. You've told me a hundred times that you're not the settling-down type. And I can't be another one of your casual things. I can't watch you move on while I'm still…"
"Still what?" He moved closer, his hand cupping my face. "While you're still what, Mira?"
I looked into those green eyes and almost told him everything. Almost confessed that I'd been in love with him since that night three years ago when he showed up at my apartment at 2 AM with ice cream because my grandmother died. That every woman he dated felt like a knife to my chest. That I'd been lying to myself about my feelings because I was terrified of losing him.
Instead, I pulled away.
"While I'm still your friend," I finished. "We need to pretend this never happened. Please."
The hurt on his face was unmistakable now. "If that's what you want."
"It is."
It wasn't. But it was safer this way.
He nodded slowly. "Okay. We'll forget it ever happened. Go back to being just friends."
"Just friends," I echoed, the words tasting like ash.
I got dressed quickly while he watched from the bed, an unreadable expression on his face. At the door, I paused.
"Happy birthday, Ethan."
He didn't respond.
I walked out, leaving behind the best night of my life and pretending my heart wasn't breaking.
If only I'd known that six weeks later, I'd be holding a positive pregnancy test and wishing desperately that I'd told him the truth that morning.
Three days.
Ethan had been gone for three days, and my phone remained silent.
I sat on my couch, staring at our text thread, my thumb hovering over the keyboard for the hundredth time. What was I supposed to say? "Hey, still pregnant, just checking in"? "Hope you're doing okay with the whole impending fatherhood thing"?
My best friend Sage sat across from me, her dark eyes filled with concern as she sipped her herbal tea. I'd called her the night Ethan left, sobbing so hard I could barely get the words out.
"Still nothing?" she asked gently.
I shook my head, setting my phone down before I did something stupid like actually text him. "Radio silence. He's probably with Jessica, living his best life, pretending I don't exist."
"Or he's completely freaking out and doesn't know what to say," Sage offered, ever the optimist. "This is huge, Mira. You can't expect him to process it overnight."
"It's been three days, not overnight." I pulled my knees to my chest. "And he made it pretty clear how he feels. He said it was 'catastrophic.' That he's not ready to be a father. That we're not in love."
Sage winced. "He really said that?"
"Word for word." The memory still stung like a fresh wound. "And the worst part? He's right. We're not together. We're not in love well, he's not in love with me. I have no claim on him. He can walk away, and I can't stop him."
"Mira"
"I mean, legally he has responsibilities, sure.
Child support or whatever. But I can't make him want this baby. I can't make him want me." My voice cracked on the last word.
Sage moved to sit beside me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "Have you thought about what you want to do?"
I'd thought about nothing else for three days straight. Keep the baby or don't. Tell Ethan's family or wait. Move to another city and start over. Every option felt impossible.