Tangled Hearts.

~Chapter 33~

~Raelyn~

~March 31st~

The next day, the afternoon sun barged through the window like an overenthusiastic party guest, throwing ridiculously long, wonky shadows across the room—as if the universe was already messing with me.

My eyes snapped open like someone hit the "startle" button inside my brain. Instantly, a deep, nagging wrongness clawed at my guts like a hangry raccoon on a mission.

I shot upright, heart pounding like a drumline at a rock concert. Nausea hit me so hard it practically introduced itself with a full-on wrestling move, making my vision go spinny. I bolted to the bathroom like a zombie auditioning for a race.

The taste in my mouth? Iron. Not the kind you hit at the gym—more like "oh god, this is definitely blood" iron.

I leaned over the toilet and unleashed the most gloriously disgusting sound known to humankind—the kind that echoes off cold tiles and shames you for existing. My knuckles gripped the porcelain like it owed me money. Peering down, my stomach twisted again as a splash of vibrant red stared back.

"What the actual hell is this nightmare?" I whispered, voice cracking like a teenager on a bad day.

And then, just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, my phone blared its shrill ringtone—because apparently misery loves company. I fumbled to grab it, seeing Kat flashing on the screen. Cue full-blown panic mode.

"Raelyn? You sound like you've been hit by a truck and then eaten by said truck," Katrina's voice hit with equal parts concern and confusion.

I tried to explain, but another surprise guest nausea wave kicked me in the guts, my sick sounds echoing through the phone line like a horror movie soundtrack.

"Rae, hold tight! Devyn, Tara, and I are dropping everything. We're coming over," Katrina declared, no debate.

"No! Work! People expect you guys to be adults!" I croaked. Yeah, right. Like I was going to argue with a human tornado.

"Nope. Work can wait. This is serious. We're on our way," she said, tone so firm it could've made a Viking put down his axe. I barely got out a squeak before my body convulsed again, fear nailing me like a punch to the gut.

~

Once the nausea relented—like a temperamental toddler—I collapsed onto my couch, clutching my stomach like it was about to revolt. A little while later, the crew arrived, bursting in like a sitcom posse.

Devyn practically dove onto me, brushing my hair back and rubbing my cheek like I was a baby deer. "Oh, babe, what's going on?"

I propped myself up against the couch arm, stomach doing somersaults. "Probably stomach flu. Thanks, Coachella. Also, thank you, questionable decisions."

Kat immediately whipped out the interrogation tactics. "When was your last period? Any chance it's, you know, that?"

I blinked. "January."

Pause. Wait. It's March?! Crap.

I scrambled to the bathroom, knees hitting the floor as I tore through my cabinets hunting for my stash of unused period supplies like a survivalist prepping for apocalypse. Panic hit full speed.

Hand over mouth, back against the wall, a single tear betrayed me as I pulled out three pregnancy tests—because, naturally, I always keep one for emergencies. I took them all. I never thought it would be the kind of emergency where I'd be screaming internally. I