Chapter 2: Broken Pieces
1484 Words
The pregnancy tests sat like cruel reminders on the bathroom sink—twin sentences confirming a future she hadn’t imagined. Anna couldn’t look away. Her hands trembled as she wrapped the plastic sticks in toilet paper and tossed them into the bin, as if hiding them would make it all disappear.
But nothing could erase those two pink lines.
She stumbled into the living room, the world muffled around her. She sat on the couch, knees pulled to her chest, and stared blankly at the wall.
A knock at the door jolted her.
“Anna?” Faith’s voice called. “It’s me.”
She didn’t move.
Another knock, gentler this time. “You okay, babe? I brought pastries.”
Anna slowly stood, her legs numb, and opened the door.
Faith took one look at her pale face and dropped the paper bag onto the counter. “Okay, now I’m worried. What happened?”
Anna turned away, walked silently to the couch, and sat down like her body was too heavy to carry. Faith followed, confused and anxious.
“I need you to sit,” Anna whispered.
“I am sitting.”
“I mean… really sit.”
Faith blinked and slowly took her best friend’s hands. “What’s going on?”
Anna’s voice cracked. “I’m pregnant.”
Faith’s eyes widened. “You’re… what?”
Anna looked away. “I took two tests. Both positive.”
Silence.
Faith blinked, mouth slightly open, like she was trying to process the words.
“Are you sure?” she finally asked.
“I’m late. I’ve been feeling sick, tired… I just knew. The tests confirmed it.”
Faith sank back into the couch. “From that night?”
Anna nodded, tears welling again. “I don’t even know his name, Faith. I don’t know anything about him except… his smile. His voice. And how broken I felt when I let him in.”
Faith reached for her hand. “Okay. Okay, breathe. We’ll figure this out.”
“There’s nothing to figure out,” Anna said bitterly. “I’m going to be a single mom. To a child whose father doesn’t even know I exist. How is that fair?”
Faith bit her lip, searching for the right words. “Do you want to keep the baby?”
“I don’t know what I want,” Anna whispered. “Everything hurts. My heart. My head. My future. This wasn’t the plan.”
Faith nodded, her grip tightening. “Plans change. But you’re not alone in this. Not ever. You have me.”
Anna broke down again, leaning into her friend’s shoulder as the sobs returned. She cried until she was empty, and then cried some more.
The following days were a blur. Between missed classes, silent dinners, and long showers where Anna stared at herself like she didn’t recognize the girl in the mirror, time stopped mattering.
Faith, true to her word, stayed close—filling the apartment with soft music, herbal tea, and hopeful pep talks.
But Anna felt adrift.
She stared at baby websites, reading words like “trimester” and “heartbeat” as if they were written in another language. Her phone buzzed with texts from classmates and even from Liam, who had finally noticed her absence—but she ignored them all.
One night, curled beneath a blanket, Anna turned to Faith and whispered, “Do you think I ruined my life?”
Faith’s answer was soft but sure. “No. I think life just gave you a new chapter. One you didn’t ask for—but maybe one you need.”
Anna didn’t respond. Her fingers traced the soft fabric of the blanket, and for the first time, she placed her hand over her belly. There was nothing there yet. No bump. No flutter. Just possibility.
But in that moment, something shifted.
The fear didn’t disappear—but something else bloomed beside it.
Something tender.
Something like… hope.
The silence in the bathroom was deafening.
Anna sat motionless on the edge of the tub, her fingers wrapped tightly around the two pregnancy tests. Her knuckles were white. Her breathing shallow. The two pink lines stared back at her—bold, undeniable.
She swallowed hard, but her throat felt dry, like dust.
“No. No, no…” she whispered again, her voice cracking under the weight of disbelief. “This can’t be happening.”
But it was. The one night she tried to forget Liam—the one night she gave her body to a stranger—was now etched into her forever.
She was pregnant.
With twins.
A hot wave of nausea surged again, but she didn’t move. She couldn’t. Her body felt frozen, like the world had stopped spinning and left her behind.
A knock on the bathroom door broke the stillness.
“Anna?” Faith’s soft voice came through. “You okay?”
Anna couldn’t find her voice. Her lips parted, but nothing came out.
Faith didn’t wait. She gently opened the door and stepped in. When she saw Anna’s face—pale, blank, eyes wide—she rushed to her side.
“Anna,” she whispered, kneeling beside her. “Talk to me.”
Anna slowly held out the tests.
Faith stared at them. Blinked. Then covered her mouth with her hand.
“Oh my God.”
Anna nodded numbly. “I’m pregnant.”
Faith took the tests and double-checked. She didn’t ask if they were accurate—Anna wouldn’t have called her in otherwise.
“And... it’s from that night?”
Anna shut her eyes, ashamed. “I never even knew his name, Faith. I can’t remember his face properly. I was too drunk… too broken.”
Faith sat beside her on the floor and took her hand. “You’re not alone. Okay? We’ll figure this out.”
“I’m having his babies,” Anna said with a breathless laugh that turned into a sob. “His. And I don’t even know who he is.”
Faith squeezed her hand tighter. “You don’t have to decide anything tonight.”
Anna slowly turned to her. “But what if I want to keep them? What if… despite all the pain, I feel like they’re all I have left?”
Faith was quiet. Then she nodded. “Then we’ll raise them together. You and me. Like we always said we would if we ever got stuck in a mess.”
Anna smiled weakly through her tears. “This isn’t just a mess. This is a whole damn storm.”
They both laughed—tired, aching laughs—but it was something.
Anna curled into Faith’s shoulder and whispered, “I’m terrified.”
“I know,” Faith said. “But you’re strong.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are,” Faith said firmly. “You walked away from heartbreak and faced the unknown. You made it this far. You are strong, Anna.”
Anna closed her eyes and held onto that sentence like a lifeline.
Weeks passed.
Anna visited a doctor. Saw the faint flicker of two tiny heartbeats on the screen. Cried harder than she ever had.
She dropped out of college. Took a night shift at a local diner. Moved into a cheaper apartment with peeling wallpaper and a broken heater.
Faith stayed by her side through it all.
They bought baby clothes from thrift stores, painted the second-hand crib themselves, and argued over names like it was the only war that mattered in the world.
But deep down, Anna never stopped thinking about the stranger. The man with the haunted eyes and the gentle touch. The one who unknowingly left behind more than just a memory.
Eight months later.
The hospital room was white and sterile. The pain was blinding. The screams guttural.
But then… there they were.
Two beautiful, squirming baby boys.
Anna sobbed when she held them in her arms. They were so small. So perfect.
“I don’t know who you are, Daddy,” she whispered as tears streamed down her cheeks, “but you gave me the only thing in this world that ever felt like mine.”
She named them Eli and Jace—two halves of her heart.
Five years later.
Anna stood behind the counter of a small, bustling café with flour on her apron and exhaustion in her bones.
Eli had her laugh. Jace had her eyes. They both had her whole world wrapped around their tiny fingers.
Life wasn’t perfect—but it was hers.
Until he walked in.
Dressed in a sharp navy suit, with storm-gray eyes and the same smirk that haunted her dreams… he stood there—rich, confident, unaware.
Anna’s heart stopped.
It was him.
The stranger.
The billionaire.
And he had no idea.
No idea she was the girl from that night.
No idea he had twin sons.
- Writer
