You nodded, bracing for retreat. For cold logic. For “we can’t.”
“You’re…” His voice cracked. “You’re pregnant?” x reader pregnant
Instead, he pulled you into his chest so hard you almost toppled. His hand pressed flat against your still-flat belly, trembling. You nodded, bracing for retreat
You handed him the plastic stick without a word. neither pink nor blue.
He stared at it. Then at your stomach. Then back at the two pink lines.
He found you crying in the nursery you’d been secretly painting – a soft sage green, neither pink nor blue.