Naomi's POV
I stared at the stick in my hand like it was lying.
There were two lines.
No blinking. No digital countdown. No ambiguity.
Just two quiet, steady lines that felt louder than anything I’d heard in weeks.
I sat on the bathroom floor, knees to my chest, the world tilting slightly as my heartbeat thudded in my ears. The morning sun streamed through the frosted glass above me, slicing the silence into strips.
Two lines.
One for before, One for after.
There was no part of me that hadn’t seen it coming—not really. The nausea. The strange dreams. The way my clothes fit a little differently, the smell of garlic turning my stomach, the softness in Raymond’s gaze when he thought I wasn’t looking.
But knowing something in your bones and seeing it on paper are two very different
