2 Lines

Chapter 11 - The Beginning of Month Two

The days blurred together after that conversation with my parents. I had never felt so grateful for their support, but it didn't make everything easier. Nothing about this was easy.

The first month of my pregnancy had passed in a fog of confusion, fear, and a constant, gnawing anxiety. Every morning I woke up feeling like I was stepping into someone else's life, someone who had made decisions I couldn't understand. But this was my reality now. I was pregnant, and no amount of wishing or crying could change that.

The symptoms were starting to hit harder. Morning sickness was a joke—because it wasn't just in the morning. I felt queasy most of the day, like I had a bad case of the flu that never went away. And the fatigue... God, the fatigue was brutal. I was tired all the time, like I couldn't keep my eyes open no matter how much I slept. It made focusing on school impossible, and every day felt like a marathon just to get through.

Mom had scheduled my first real doctor's appointment for the end of the month. It had been nerve-wracking to sit in the clinic waiting room, knowing that everything was about to get so much more real. When they took me back, I remember staring at the ultrasound machine, my heart pounding in my chest.

The doctor had been kind, walking me through what was happening, reassuring me that everything was normal for someone my age. But I hadn't felt normal. Seeing the little flicker of the heartbeat on the screen—the faintest sign of life growing inside me—had been overwhelming.

It was one thing to know you're pregnant. It's another to see it.

As I entered my second month, the reality of it all started to settle in even more. My body was changing. My emotions were a rollercoaster. Some days, I was angry—angry at Justin, at the universe, at myself. Other days, I felt oddly hopeful, like maybe I could figure this out, maybe things wouldn't be as impossible as they seemed.

But then there were the bad days. The days where I felt completely alone, even with my parents' support. The days where the thought of carrying this baby for nine months and raising it on my own felt like a mountain too steep to climb.

And, of course, there were the constant reminders at school. I hadn't told anyone else yet, except for Tara, who had sworn to keep my secret. She was supportive, in her way, but it was obvious she didn't know how to handle it. How could she? She was still just a regular 16-year-old, worried about boys and grades and parties. And I was... well, I was dealing with something way beyond that now.

Justin had avoided me ever since our fight. He barely even looked at me in the hallways, and when he did, it was like he was seeing a ghost. The rage I'd felt that day hadn't completely faded. Every time I saw him laughing with his friends, carefree and unburdened, it stung. I couldn't believe how quickly he'd washed his hands of me, of the baby. I'd thought maybe, just maybe, he'd step up. But clearly, I had been wrong.

I tried to focus on my future, the small steps I could take day by day. I talked with my mom about what I needed to do next—appointments, vitamins, and keeping myself healthy. It felt surreal to talk about prenatal care when I was still getting used to the idea that I was actually going to be a mom. But every little thing made it more real. Every wave of nausea, every tired sigh, every new ache in my body reminded me that things were changing. Fast.

One afternoon, as I lay on the couch with a blanket draped over me, staring blankly at a show I wasn't paying attention to, my phone buzzed. I checked it, expecting another "How are you feeling?" text from Tara, but my stomach dropped when I saw Justin's name instead.

"We need to talk."

That was it. No apology. No explanation. Just those four words, like he hadn't left me crying and angry the last time we spoke.

I stared at the screen for a long time, my heart pounding. I didn't know if I wanted to talk to him. I didn't know if I had the strength to go through it all again. Part of me wanted to ignore him, to let him stew in whatever guilt or fear he was feeling. But another part of me—the part that still cared, that still hoped for some shred of decency from him—knew I couldn't avoid this forever.

After a long pause, I typed back:

"Fine. When?"

A few minutes later, his response came:

"Tonight? After school?"

I sighed, feeling the familiar knot of anxiety tighten in my stomach.

"Okay."

That night, I found myself sitting in the park, waiting for Justin. It was a small, quiet place, a few benches scattered around a patch of grass. I chose one far from the playground, hoping that wherever this conversation went, no one else would have to see it.

Justin showed up a few minutes late, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jacket. He looked nervous, which was a relief—at least he wasn't coming here to make this harder than it already was.

He sat down next to me, keeping a little distance between us. For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The awkwardness was suffocating.

Finally, he broke the silence. "Look... I'm sorry about what happened the other day. I was freaking out, and I said some shit I shouldn't have."

I didn't respond at first, letting his words hang in the air. His apology was better than nothing, but it didn't erase the way he'd made me feel.

"I get that you're scared, Justin," I said quietly. "But I'm scared too. And what you said... it really hurt."

He nodded, looking down at the ground. "I know. I just... this is all so fucked up. I wasn't expecting this, and I don't know how to deal with it."

"I wasn't expecting it either," I replied. "But you don't get to just check out because it's hard. This isn't going away. You're going to be a dad whether you like it or not."

Justin's face tightened. "I don't know if I can do that, Mia. I don't know if I'm cut out for this."

I sighed, my heart heavy. "You don't have to have all the answers right now. But you can't just run from this. Not forever."

We sat there in silence, the weight of the conversation pressing down on us. I didn't know what was going to happen between us—if Justin would step up or fade away. But as I sat there, feeling the chill of the evening air settle in, I realized that no matter what he chose, I had to keep moving forward.

Because I wasn't just Mia anymore. I was Mia—and I was going to be a mom.