Chapter4
1383 Words
Two Lines
The test sat on the edge of the sink like it had something to say. Amara couldn’t move. Couldn’t blink. Couldn’t breathe.
Two lines.
Not faint. Maybe not. Not a trick of the light.
Two bold, unapologetic pink lines staring back at her like they’d been waiting all along.
Pregnant.
Her knees buckled, and she sank to the cool bathroom floor. For a long minute, she just sat there, one hand flat over her stomach, the other gripping the counter’s edge like it might steady her world.
Her heart was thudding so loudly she barely heard the cars outside, the hum of her fridge, the low buzz of the city waking up. She was pregnant. Not just late. Not just stressed.
Pregnant.
With Liam Hart’s child.
The realization knocked the breath from her lungs. She curled forward slightly, nausea washing over her—not the morning sickness kind, but the gut-deep panic kind. This wasn’t just a mistake she could pretend didn’t happen. This was real.
And she had no idea what she was going to do.
By the time she made it to the office that morning, the storm in her chest had only intensified.
She walked through the open floor plan in a daze, clutching her bag too tightly, her steps too slow. No one noticed. That was the beauty of corporate chaos—everyone was too consumed by their own fires to see someone else’s burn.
At her desk, she opened her email and stared at the screen for a full five minutes without reading a word. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, but nothing came. She wasn’t sure how to move forward when her entire life had just tilted off its axis.
Liam was somewhere in the building. In his office, likely reviewing budgets or scolding an underperforming manager or drinking a coffee without realizing his world was about to change, too.
Should she tell him?
She didn’t know.
Would he care?
Worse—would he think she was trying to trap him?
Amara pushed a hand through her hair and stood abruptly, ignoring the way her stomach turned. She needed air. Fresh, clean air that didn’t smell like recycled ambition and perfume.
She rode the elevator down to the street level, stepping outside into the cold morning.
The wind slapped her cheeks gently. Her hand instinctively drifted to her stomach.
It was too early to feel anything. Too soon for a bump or symptoms beyond nausea and fatigue. But she knew. Her body knew. Something inside her had changed.
She pulled her coat tighter around herself and walked.
She didn’t notice that Liam was watching from the window above.
Inside his office, Liam stood frozen, coffee in hand, eyes following Amara as she disappeared down the block.
She looked different. Not just tired—unsettled. Off-balance in a way he’d never seen her. It bothered him more than it should’ve.
It had been days since their confrontation. Since she’d walked out of his office with her head held high and fire in her voice. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her since.
Not just the night they’d shared, but everything after. The silence. The way her smile had faded. The way her shoulders had stiffened when she saw him.
He hadn’t expected the guilt to stick like this.
He hadn’t expected to care.
A soft knock pulled him from his thoughts.
“Sir?” his assistant, Claire, stepped in. “Board meeting at ten.”
He nodded without turning away from the window. “Tell them I’ll be down shortly.”
That afternoon, Amara stared at the clock on her screen.
4:59 p.m.
Her stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten all day. Toast in the morning that she barely kept down. Water. Half a banana she tossed after two bites. She felt weak. Worn thin.
She gathered her things quietly, ready to leave before anyone could stop her.
“Amara?”
She turned.
Liam stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable.
“I need a word,” he said, nodding toward the elevators.
Her chest tightened. She opened her mouth to refuse, but no sound came.
He stepped aside, waiting. And like a fool, she followed.
They didn’t speak in the elevator.
She stood on one side, arms folded tightly over her chest. He stood on the other, jaw clenched, gaze forward. The silence stretched, thick and humming with unspoken tension.
When the doors opened, he led her into his office and closed the door behind them.
“I’m not here to cross lines,” he said quickly. “I just need to ask you something.”
She waited.
“You’re not yourself,” he said quietly. “You’ve looked pale all week. You haven’t touched your coffee. You avoid me. Something’s wrong.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re lying.”
She exhaled slowly, looking down at her hands. Her fingers were trembling.
He took a step closer. “Amara. You don’t have to carry whatever this is alone.”
She looked up at him then, eyes glistening but fierce. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make it sound like you care when we both know this was never supposed to be more than one night.”
“I care,” he said simply.
Silence.
Her voice wavered. “I’m pregnant.”
The words hung in the air, echoing louder than any shout.
Liam blinked.
“What?”
“I’m pregnant,” she repeated, jaw tight. “Five weeks.”
He stared at her. “Are you sure?”
“I took three tests. I’m never late. I know my body.”
He moved back slowly, running a hand through his hair.
For a long moment, neither of them said anything. Amara stared at the floor. Liam stared at her.
Finally, he spoke. “Is it mine?”
Her head jerked up. “Are you serious?”
“I had to ask.”
“No, Liam. You didn’t.”
A flush of anger colored her cheeks. “I told you it was one night. There’s no one else.”
He nodded slowly, rubbing his jaw. “Right.”
She picked up her bag. “This was a mistake.”
“Wait—Amara—”
“I shouldn’t have told you. I don’t know what I was expecting.” Her voice cracked, despite herself. “This doesn’t change anything, okay? I’m not asking for anything.”
His eyes darkened. “You’re carrying my child. That changes everything.”
She opened the door. “We’ll see.”
Then she walked out.
That night, Amara couldn’t sleep.
She curled on her side, a pillow tucked beneath her belly even though she barely had one. She kept hearing Liam’s voice—his shock, his disbelief. His stupid question.
“Is it mine?”
Her stomach turned, not from nausea but from resentment. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but it wasn’t that.
She wasn’t the kind of woman who schemed or manipulated. She had never once asked anyone for help in her life. And now? Now she was facing the biggest storm she’d ever walked into—and he had the audacity to ask if she was lying.
A part of her wished she hadn’t told him at all.
But the other part—the scared, exhausted, quietly hopeful part—knew this wasn’t just her decision anymore.
It was their baby.
Whether she liked it or not.
Meanwhile, Liam lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.
He hadn’t moved for hours.
Pregnant.
The word looped in his mind like a broken record.
He wasn’t ready to be a father. He’d never planned on kids. His own childhood had been a minefield—absent mother, emotionally cold father. The idea of raising a child had always felt foreign. Dangerous.
What if he screwed it up?
What if he turned into his father?
But then he thought of Amara. Her strength. Her stubbornness. Her quiet dignity.
And for the first time in his life, the idea
didn’t scare him.
It humbled him.
It terrified him in all the right ways.
He got up and poured himself a drink. The scotch burned on the way down. But it didn’t clear his head.
Nothing would.
- Writer
