"What are you giggling about?" Lia looked up at me from her notebook, eyebrows raised in surprise and confusion.

Luckily, I didn't have time to reply.

"Good evening, my friends," Luigi welcomed us cordially, approaching our table and placing two menus in front of us. "How was your trip?"

The middle-aged, friendly, tall, and dark Italian was our family friend, from the moment my father drew the project for his restaurant some years back. Ever since then, Luigi made sure that there was one of the best tables available whenever I, or my parents, decided to eat at his place.

"Luigi! How are you?" I asked, standing up and letting him embrace me. Only now I realised how much I had missed him.

He and his wife wished for a large family but couldn't have children. They knew well how things were between my parents. Luigi and Veronica regretted it and felt sorry that they couldn't really help.

Oftentimes, while I was at school or at the university, I would come to their restaurant to do my homework at one of their tables, or simply for a chat, looking for a momentary escape from my family's life. I always found joy and solace in their pleasant company. Being around Luigi and Veronica was better than staying at home and having to listen to the muffled sounds of my parents' heated conversations. Their endless arguments, the angry voices descending down the creaky staircases of our old house from their bedroom, or creeping up through the floorboards of my room from the kitchen, filling the air around me, suffocating me like a flood...

"Are you all right, girl?" Luigi asked in English as perfect as my own, with only a hint of his original accent. He held me now at arm's length, looking at me carefully, examining me, the way my parents have never done. "You look... different. Good, different. Grown up, somehow," he said after a while, his happy smile reaching his dark eyes and illuminating his attractive features.

"I'm fine, thank you," I said, sitting down again and thinking of a way to change the subject. Luigi was too perceptive; I couldn't have even him start asking questions now... "I saw Veronica this morning. She told me the same thing." His wife was just as warm, friendly, and perceptive as he.

He nodded, then looked around the restaurant, which was filling up fast. "Shall I leave you some time to decide what you would like to eat tonight or..."

"You know what I want, Luigi. And I bet Lia will have her favourite too," I beamed at him.

I hadn't noticed, during my year in the castle, how much I had missed this world, my lifestyle. It felt good, being back... But I would go back to the castle, and Vlad, anytime, without a second thought or even just a hint of remorse for leaving anything or anyone behind, if only it was possible, I realised, with a pang at my heart, my smile fading away.

"I do. Spaghetti alle vongole for you, and una pizza Margherita for our Lia..."

"And two glasses of white wine, Luigi, you choose which," I added, knowing that I wouldn't be able to avoid Lia's questions tonight. And if I was to talk, I needed a drink.

"Sorry, Luigi," Lia said, giving me a look I could not decipher. Is she angry? Or exasperated? What have I done now? "Just give us a few moments, please. We might try something new tonight." She finished, looking up at him.

"Fine, no problem, girls. I'll be back in a few minutes," He said politely before rushing off to a cheerful and noisy group of well-dressed, posh-looking Londoners who had just entered.

The newcomers let inside a gust of cold, refreshing air. It stirred and moved the heat and aromas reigning within the restaurant all around us, replacing them with new ones, reaching us from the kitchen. I had skipped lunch, and now I was hungry.

"Lia, will you let me eat? I'm starving," I complained, turning to my friend and finding her staring at me intently.

"I've been waiting for you to tell me. But I'm not going to watch you eating seafood and getting tipsy before you decide to do so," she announced. She leaned towards me over the table, not to have to raise her voice for me to hear her over the medley of voices of the other cheerful customers and the clutter of their cutlery, which was filling the place.

"What are you talking about? I always eat Luigi's pasta with clams, I love it, and it's not the first time we drink some wine..."

Lia rolled her eyes at me, then fished a piece of paper from her handbag.

"There you go. You are welcome. Read it, aloud. Now, please," she said, turning the sheet of paper around and placing it on the table, the densely printed words facing me.

"Do's and Don'ts during pregnancy," I read, confused. "Lia, what..."

"Just skip to the correct diet. Here. You'll read the rest later," she instructed me, indicating the correct section with her finger. "No seafood, peanuts, or anything else that could cause allergic reactions... and here, see, no alcohol."

"Lia, I'm not pregnant," I said, not feeling too sure about it.

"Samara, listen. You are so bright, and I love you like a sister. But sometimes... often... you just don't see the obvious until it hits you in the face. You never connect the dots if you don't want to see the whole picture. You must open your eyes and look! How can you... not see it?" she asked, looking away from me to consult her notebook.

"Lia..."

"Don't speak, just reply to my questions now," she ordered, assuming her professional 'I'm-the-future-doctor- here' tone. "You are always tired, have often headaches, and even back pain. Nausea. The morning sickness-- I only saw you with that a couple of times, but since when have you been having it, precisely? I'm sure it's been a while..."

I looked outside towards the pond, lost in thought. Is she right? Am I really pregnant, then?

There was a man standing on the bank, shrouded in the shadows of the night, his face illuminated at intervals by the orange glow of the tip of the cigarette he kept bringing to his lips. Its smoke was coiling through his dark, shoulder-length hair, so much like Vlad's, then vanishing into the light mist rising from the water. The man's hair and the long dark coat he was wearing made him look like Alan Rickman as Severus Snape... I smiled, recalling my previous conversation with Lia.

Always.

And just like that, it all clicked. Everything became clear and certain. It was as obvious as the fact that I was always going to love Vlad, no matter if I'll ever see him again or not. I was given a second chance.

Finally, after centuries, I was going to have his child. If Lia is right.

My epiphany was suddenly disturbed by the sight of Luigi. He rushed towards the lone stranger I was still staring at, words I could not hear through the glass forming on his lips as he stopped in one of the squares of light cast outside into the night by the windows. Luigi stood a little distance away from the man in the shadows, his smiling face well visible in the lights of the restaurant. He gestured for the dark man to come in, but the stranger shook his head, letting the cigarette fall in the water.

I watched the man step into the lights and the two of them shaking hands before he looked up, as if feeling my gaze, and our eyes met for the shortest moment.

There was something weird but familiar about him... or not him, exactly, but the way he looked at me, making me shiver involuntarily, and the way he moved... Then he melted into the shadows completely even before I could form a coherent thought, and I saw Luigi serving the table next to ours, as if he had never been outside at all. What...?

"Samara! Hey, I'm talking to you. The nausea..."

"Hmm... a little longer than two weeks. But it's gone, I've been perfectly fine the last day or two now," I said, looking back at her, trying to disperse my confusion and concentrate on her questions. "Why do you think I'm pregnant? I could just have... smallpox or something," I said, still not completely convinced.

I googled the symptoms of that illness out of curiosity the previous day and found out that they were similar to those of early pregnancy. Apart from the skinrush, fever, and diarrhoea, of course, I reminded myself. Ok. So only a few were similar, but still...

Lia pressed the heels of her hands over her eyes, her typical, despairing gesture. I was driving her mad.

"Smallpox, out of all things! And where would you catch that? The disease was eliminated, Samara, we don't even vaccinate people against it anymore, since the seventies."

"But I don't have the nausea anymore. "

"Only because you are further on than you think. Let's see." She took a pen from her bag and started to scribble something down. "You must be at least two months pregnant... When was the first day of your last per..."

"Lia! Be quiet!" I called as I heard a clutter coming from the next table.

When I looked up, I saw Luigi apologizing to a customer. He had definitely heard what Lia had said. Great.

"So?" She insisted.

"I don't remember!" I exclaimed, exasperated. "There were so many other, more important things to do than to count days. "

"Why am I not surprised that you don't remember? That's so... you! But I do remember that you stopped asking me to bring you the pills from my mum as soon as you and William broke up. "

Now I remembered why I wanted to change my doctor. Lia's mum was the best gynaecologist of the Hammersmith Hospital, but her daughter was just too bright and exceedingly nosy.

"Anyway," she went on, unrelenting. "You are definitely pregnant. But take this test to make sure. Do it first thing in the morning and let me know straight away, so I can book you an appointment with my mum, clear?" she asked, reaching inside her bag again and handing me a small package.

The way she put it, it couldn't be clearer.

"Lia, why are you doing this to me?" I whispered, slipping the box in my handbag.

Suddenly, I was feeling overwhelmed, helpless, and lonely. I was pregnant. With a vampire. I had no idea how the child would be, and I was all alone in this... If I wasn't so shocked by the realisation, I would have started crying.

"I'm not doing anything to you, Samara; you did this to yourself. Well, not alone, obviously." She giggled. "I only wish I could be there when you tell William. I'd give anything to see his face. You know, I think that he might make a fine father, once he settles down."

What? "It's not... " I called, forgetting my surroundings and attracting Luigi's attention again.

"Is everything all right, girl?" he asked, rushing to my rescue and putting his hand on my shoulder soothingly.

"Yes. No. I don't know." I mumbled. "Well, it will sort itself out, somehow. We will have two pizzas, any kind, just no seafood or peanuts, please. And a bottle of water. Thank you."

Luigi smiled at me, his eyes full of knowledge and understanding. He did hear everything. Oh, well.

"If you need something, anything, Samara, now or later... "

"Thank you," I repeated, feeling the corners of my eyes prickle with tears of gratitude. "I'll let you know."

He nodded and walked quickly to another table. I looked at Lia.

"Keep that room in your flat for me. Once I tell this at home, I'll be homeless, I'm sure. They'll never allow me to become a single mother under their 'proper' roof."

"But won't you move in with William?" she asked, staring at me enquiringly.

"He broke up with me, you know that. This child..." I said, putting my hand over my belly protectively, "... is definitely not William's."

"I knew it! I thought the diamond was too big for William!" she exclaimed. "And here's where the story gets so much more interesting. You've been keeping secrets, my friend. Who is the father then? Wait. Don't tell me it's that... blonde, Romanian... god? You did look quite intimate when I found you in that dim corridor of that spooky castle with him... But you only just met that day, it doesn't sum up at all... "

What? Who? Does she mean Junior? Oh no. How could she think that I and him...

I shook my head. "No. Not him. His father," I said, observing her reaction.

It was now or never. I could as well tell Lia everything. Or at least some things. She will never believe you, she will think you've gone mad! My subconscious hissed at me.

Luckily, one of Luigi's waiters arrived with our food just then, saving me, at least momentarily, from telling her the truth.

How can I ever explain my situation to her?