Melanie

I apply my makeup carefully, trying to distract myself from the gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach. Today has definitely not been my day. Marcus and I finished moving his things yesterday, thank God. I was looking forward to spending the day with him, getting cozy on the couch, relaxing, and enjoying each other's company. But no. I've been feeling awful all day, I must be getting sick.

As I glance at myself in the mirror, I can't help but feel a pang of disappointment. It's our first Saturday together, and I'm sick. We even lit the fireplace, and outside, it's been snowing all day. I wanted it to be perfect, but instead, I'm stuck here feeling like I'm about to empty my stomach at any moment.

I try to tell myself that there will be plenty of Saturdays to enjoy living with Marcus, but it does little to ease my disappointment. I sigh and run a hand through my hair, trying to pull myself together.

Finally, I'm ready. I take one last look in the mirror, trying to summon some semblance of enthusiasm for the evening ahead. Tonight is our double date with Evie and Jason, and I don't want to ruin it by being sick.

Just as I'm about to leave the bedroom, Marcus appears at the door, looking gorgeous as ever. He's dressed in burgundy slacks and an ivory button-up shirt that complements his dark hair and olive skin perfectly.

"Hey, beautiful," he says, his eyes lighting up as he sees me. "Are you ready?"

I force a smile, despite the queasiness in my stomach. "Yeah, I'm ready," I reply, hoping he doesn't notice the strain in my voice.

Marcus steps closer, concern evident in his eyes. "How are you feeling, Mel?" he asks, his voice filled with genuine worry.

I hesitate for a moment, debating how much to tell him. I've been feeling terrible all day, but I don't want to ruin our night by dwelling on it.

"I've definitely been better," I admit with a rueful smile. "But I've also been worse earlier today, so I'll say I'm okay for now."

Marcus studies me for a moment, his gaze searching mine for any sign of discomfort. "If you're not feeling up to it, we don't have to go," he offers, his voice gentle.

I shake my head quickly. "No, I want to go," I insist, reaching out to take his hand in mine. "I don't want to miss our double date with Evie and Jason."

Marcus's expression softens, and he squeezes my hand gently. "Okay," he says softly. "But if you start feeling worse, just let me know, and we can head home."

I nod, grateful for his understanding. "I will," I promise. "Let's go."

Together, we make our way to the living room, where Marcus grabs his coat and keys. I follow suit, pulling on my own coat and wrapping a scarf around my neck to ward off the chill. As we step outside into the cold winter air, I can't help but shiver. Marcus wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close to his side for warmth.

Together, we make our way to the car, the snow crunching beneath our feet with each step. As Marcus opens the door for me, I can't help but smile at him, feeling a surge of affection for this man who always knows how to take care of me.

I sit in the passenger seat, trying to ignore the persistent ache in my stomach as Marcus walks around to the driver's side and gets into the car. His hand finds its way to my thigh, a comforting touch that grounds me as he starts driving.

In just a few minutes, we arrive in front of the restaurant. Marcus smoothly parks the car, and we both step out, the cool night air hitting us as we make our way towards the entrance. Across from us, I spot Evie and Jason approaching the restaurant as well.

"Hey!" Evie calls out, waving enthusiastically as we meet them halfway. Jason offers a friendly nod, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Hey guys!" Marcus greets them with a smile, his hand finding mine as we walk together towards the entrance.

As we enter the restaurant, Marcus approaches the hostess confidently. "We have a reservation under the name Thompson," he informs her.

The hostess checks her binder, flipping through the pages until she finds what she's looking for. "Thompson, table for four," she confirms with a smile, her eyes flicking up to us. "Please, follow me."

With a nod of thanks, Marcus leads the way, and we follow the hostess to our table. I take a seat, grateful for the chance to rest, even if just for a moment. Tonight might not be going exactly as planned, but being here with Marcus and our friends still feels like a small slice of happiness in the midst of it all.

We have been through a lot worse lately anyway.

A smiling waiter approaches our table, menus in hand. I force a smile as he distributes them, the aroma of food wafting through the air making my stomach churn even more. Flipping through the menu, I try to focus on the words in front of me, but each dish seems to make me feel more nauseous than the last.

Marcus and Jason start discussing starters, their voices a distant hum in the background as I struggle to concentrate. Evie leans towards me, her eyes curious. "What are you thinking of getting?" she asks.

I bite my lower lip, feeling a pang of indecision gnawing at me. "I'm not sure yet," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.

Evie nods understandingly, her eyes scanning the menu once more. "Well, I'm thinking of getting either the Chicken Parmigiana or the Chicken Saltimbocca," she says, her tone thoughtful.

I consider her options for a moment, weighing each one carefully in my mind. Chicken Parmigiana sounds good, actually," I say finally, since it's the only option that doesn't make my stomach churn.

Evie grins, pleased with my choice. "Then I'll get the Chicken Saltimbocca," she declares, excitement evident in her voice. "That way, we can try each other's plates."

I close the menu, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. "Deal," I agree, smiling at Evie as I place the menu on the table.

Marcus takes charge and places the order for the table, his confident demeanor easing some of the tension in the air. In just a few minutes, the starters arrive, and the waiter begins placing plates in front of us.

As the waiter sets down a plate of various fish carpaccio, the smell hits my nostrils like a freight train, and my stomach revolts. I feel the blood drain from my face as I struggle to keep my composure.

Without a second thought, I stand up abruptly, managing to mumble, "Excuse me," to Marcus, Jason, and Evie, who all look at me with surprise.

Ignoring their concerned stares, I make a beeline for the ladies' room, my steps quick and purposeful. Bursting into a stall, I barely have time to lock the door before I double over, emptying the contents of my stomach into the toilet bowl. It's mostly bile; I haven't eaten much all day.

After what feels like an eternity, I finally stand up, feeling weak and shaky. As I straighten myself, I hear a knock on the stall door, followed by Evie's concerned voice.

"Melanie, are you okay?" she asks, her tone filled with worry.

Taking a deep breath, I unlock the door and step out, forcing a weak smile. "I'm okay," I assure her, though my voice betrays the lie. "Just a little under the weather."

Evie's concerned gaze meets mine. "Melanie, we shouldn't have gone out if you're not feeling well," she chides gently.

I wave my hand dismissively, trying to downplay the severity of my condition. "It's nothing, just a stomach bug," I assure her, hoping to reassure both Evie and myself. "I don't have a fever or anything."

Evie raises an eyebrow skeptically, her expression betraying her disbelief. "Just nausea?" she asks, her voice laced with doubt.

I nod, forcing a smile despite the queasiness swirling in my stomach. "Yeah, just nausea," I confirm, hoping to convince her that it's nothing serious.

But Evie isn't easily swayed. "And you've been tired too, right?" she presses, her lips forming a tight line.

I hesitate for a moment, caught off guard by her question. "Um, yeah, probably because I was getting sick," I reply, hoping to deflect her attention.

But Evie isn't so easily deterred. Her gaze is piercing as she leans in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "When was the last time you had sex with Marcus?" she asks bluntly.

I'm taken aback by her question. "What does that have to do with anything?" I stammer, feeling a surge of discomfort at the sudden turn in conversation.

"I think you might be pregnant, Mel," she says softly, her eyes searching mine for any sign of confirmation.

I feel a surge of panic rising within me, my mind racing as I try to process her words. "No," I shake my head vehemently, my heart pounding in my chest. "No, that's not possible."

But Evie isn't convinced, her expression serious as she presses on. "Tell me it's not Daniel's," she urges, her voice low and urgent.

I roll my eyes, feeling a surge of frustration at her persistence. "I'm not pregnant," I insist, my tone firm. "And even if I was, it wouldn't be Daniel's."

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. "It's been over a month since we last had sex, before my latest period. But I'm not pregnant, Evie," I explain, hoping to reassure Evie that her concerns are unfounded.

Evie's expression softens slightly, but she doesn't back down. "When is your period due?" she asks gently.

I pause, my mind racing as I try to recall the details. "I don't know exactly," I admit reluctantly. "In a couple of days maybe. With everything going on, I forgot to check."

Evie sighs, her expression troubled. "You need to check, Mel," she urges, her concern evident in her voice. "Just to be sure."

I nod, feeling a sense of resignation settle over me. "Of course I will," I promise. "But I'm telling you, I'm not pregnant."

"Okay then," Evie says. "Are you feeling any better? Marcus will be worried if we don't get back soon."

"I just need a moment to freshen up," I reply, my voice shaky with nerves.

Evie nods understandingly. "I'll go back to the table," she says, giving me a reassuring smile. "Take your time."

As Evie exits the bathroom, I lean against the sink, my hands trembling slightly as I turn on the tap. I quickly rinse my mouth, trying to wash away the lingering taste of bile. I dab some water on my face with a towel, careful not to ruin my makeup.

Just as I'm about to leave, Evie walks back into the bathroom, a determined look in her eyes. She hands me my phone and says, "Check it."

I stare at her incredulously. "Seriously, Evie?" I protest, feeling a surge of anxiety knotting in my stomach.

"Please, just humor me," she insists, her gaze unwavering.

Reluctantly, I take her phone and navigate to the app I use to track my cycle. My heart pounds in my chest as I wait for the information to load.

And then, there it is, plain as day on the screen.

My eyes widen in shock as I look up at Evie, the realization sinking in. "I'm... I'm five days late," I stammer, my voice barely above a whisper.