Page 201 of This Life of Mine

She stands by the sink while I step into the stall, hands shaking enough to annoy me. I follow the instructions like I’ve done this before—because I have—and then I set the test down on the back of the toilet tank.

We wait. Thirty seconds feels like thirty minutes.

I pace the tiny space, heart pounding, mouth dry. “This is ridiculous,” I mutter. “It’s probably nothing. Stress. Hormones. My body hates me.”

Val doesn’t argue. She watches me with that quiet steadiness she has when things are serious.

“Okay,” I say, breath hitched. “I’m looking.”

I pick it up and turn it over. And the world begins to lean. The room feels all of a sudden too small, too bright. My ears ring. My knees go weak, and I have to grab the stall door to steady myself.

Two lines. Clear and undeniable.

“I’m…” My voice cracks. “Oh, my God.”

Val steps closer. “Lina?”

I stand there, staring at the test like it might vanish if I blink too hard.

Then something inside me breaks open. I smile.

It starts small—barely there—then grows until my face aches with it. My eyes burn, and everything is blurry. I stare up at Val, and the second she sees my expression, she knows.

“Oh my God,” she breathes. And then she’s crying.

Full-on, joyful, hiccupping sobs as she pulls me into her arms. We laugh and cry together, clutching each other in the tiny bathroom like two teenagers who found out a secret too big for the world.

“I’m so happy for you,” she chokes out. “Oh my God, Lina.”

I bury my face in her shoulder, my own tears spilling freely now. Happy tears. Disbelieving tears. The kind that feel like they’ve been waiting years to fall.

Because I was told this might never happen again.

After the accident, after the emergency C-section, after everything my body went through, doctors were careful with their words—but the message was clear enough. The trauma had been severe. Scar tissue. Complications.It may not be possible.That crushed me.

I mourned a future I hadn’t even dared to plan. And when I reached thirty-five, I told myself the door was probably closed, anyway. I made peace with it—or at least, I thought I did. And now here I am. Pregnant.

My hand drifts to my stomach, almost unconsciously, and another memory surfaces—soft and unexpected.

Queens. Alex walking beside me, arm warm and solid around my shoulders, smiling at me like the world had already chosen us. The way he said it, half-joking, half-dreaming.We’d make beautiful babies,he’d told me.

I’d smiled then. Let the moment stay light. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to shatter something tender with uncertainty. At least…that’s what I thought. Turns out, my body had its own plans.

I laugh softly through my tears, pressing my forehead to Val’s. “I can’t believe this.”

“Believe it!” She squeals.

I take another breath, shaky but real.

Val pulls me back, her hands gently gripping my arms like she needs to anchor this moment.

“So?” Her eyes shine, her voice full of awe. “How are you going to tell Alex?”

The question lands heavier than I expect. I exhale, my smile faltering—not from doubt, but from the sheer weight of how much this matters.

“I don’t know yet,” I admit. “I need a minute to even wrap my own head around it.”

Val nods, then smiles in that knowing way she has. “He’s going to be happy,” she says without hesitation. “I mean—have youseenthe way he looks at you?”