Page 200 of This Life of Mine

A knot tightens in my stomach. I pull my phone out, fingers moving faster than my thoughts, scrolling through my calendar. Appointments. Reminders. Work shifts. Everything blurring together.

Then I see it. My last Depo appointment. Three weeks late.

“Oh,” I breathe.

Val stays quiet, giving the moment space.

“I was late,” I admit, staring at the screen. “Three weeks. But I didn’t think that mattered. They always say there’s a window.” I nod my head, grasping for logic. “And we were just in Queens. Traveling. Jet lag. Eating differently. Way more walking than usual. My body could just be…off.”

“There is a window,” Val says carefully. “But it’s not foolproof. Especially not with endometriosis. And stress. And travel. And everything else you’ve been carrying.”

“No,” I say quickly, half-laughing, half-panicking. “No way. I would have noticed something. I’m always irregular, anyway.”

Her eyes soften, but she doesn’t back down.

“Have you been more tired than usual?” I hesitate.

“More emotional?” Another pause.

“Nauseous yesterday too, you said.”

My mouth goes dry.

“That’s why I asked about your period,” she adds gently. “Not to scare you. But because all of that together means we should at least consider it.”

I stare at my phone as if it might correct itself. Three weeks late.

“I really didn’t think it mattered,” I whisper.

Val steps closer now, slow and deliberate. “It might not. This could still be something else. A bug. Acid reflux. Stress.”

She meets my eyes. “But we shouldn’t ignore it.”

The enormity of that presses against my chest, heavier than the nausea.

And since running outside, I’m not thinking about dough, or customers, or sanitation protocols.

I’m thinking about my body. And what it might be trying—persistently—to tell me.

I don’t want to freak Alex out. Not yet. Not until Iknow.

I turn to Val and lower my voice. “Can we…maybe sneak to the grocery store around the corner?”

She doesn’t hesitate. Just nods once. “Absolutely. I want to know just as bad.”

She ducks back inside and tells one of the staff we’re stepping out for a minute, that we’ll be right back.

Everything looks normal. Feels normal. But my world seems to be tilting on its axis.

Chapter sixty-one

Lina

We walk fast. An answer to our question is merely a few steps away, and I’m impatient. Every step feels loud, exposed, like my body knows something my brain is still refusing to accept.

We grab a test—no debate, no browsing, self-checkout—and head straight for the women’s restroom.

“I don’t want to wait,” I tell her, already opening the box. “I need to knownow.”