EVE
"You're not pregnant."
The doctor's words dropped into the room like a pebble into water, and I swear my lungs finally remembered how to work again. My shoulders slumped, a long, shaky breath leaving me as relief washed over me in warm, dizzying waves.
"Oh my God," I whispered, half laughing, half crying. "Thank God."
Beside me, Roman exhaled, his hand still gripping mine. I felt the tension slowly drain from his body, his thumb brushing over my knuckles as if to say, See? I told you it would be okay.
But then the doctor cleared his throat. That sound—the kind people make before saying something you're not going to like—made my heart stutter again.
"But…" he said softly, eyes flicking between us, "we still need to run an ultrasound to confirm a few other things. Jus
