Rafe Cameron Imagines

Pregnant Pt 2🤍

The morning sun crept into the room through the thin curtains, painting soft golden lines across the bed where Rafe still slept soundly beside you. His arm was draped lazily across your waist, his face calm, lips slightly parted as he breathed deeply. You envied his peace, the way he seemed so utterly unburdened by the world while yours felt like it was falling apart.

You hadn't told him.

You'd barely been able to look him in the eye since the moment you found out. Every time his gaze lingered on you, every time he asked if something was wrong, your chest tightened, and the words you needed to say caught in your throat like thorns.

You slid out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake him. Your feet hit the cool wooden floor as you grabbed your hoodie off the chair and wrapped it around yourself. The nausea had been coming and going in waves for days, a constant, unwelcome reminder of the secret you were carrying.

You padded down the hallway, hoping to avoid running into anyone else. Sarah had told you last night to rip the Band-Aid off, but the thought of telling Rafe still felt impossible. What if he didn't take it well? What if he panicked? What if this shattered the delicate balance you'd managed to find with him?

Your hand instinctively moved to your stomach as you wandered into the kitchen. The house was quiet, save for the faint hum of the fridge and the occasional creak of the old floorboards.

"Y/N?"

The sound of Sarah's voice startled you. She was leaning against the counter, a coffee mug in hand, her blonde hair pulled into a messy bun. She looked like she'd been waiting for you.

"Morning," you said softly, avoiding her gaze as you opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water.

"Don't 'morning' me," she said, setting her mug down with a clink. "Did you tell him?"

You froze, your fingers tightening around the bottle. "No," you admitted after a moment.

Sarah sighed, leaning forward slightly. "Y/N, you can't keep this from him. He's going to figure it out eventually. And trust me, it's better if he hears it from you."

"I know," you said, though your voice was barely above a whisper.

"So what's stopping you?" she pressed.

You hesitated, taking a sip of water to stall. Sarah wouldn't let this go easily.

"I'm scared, okay?" you said finally, your voice breaking. "I don't know how he's going to react. What if he freaks out? What if he doesn't want this?"

Sarah softened, her sharp gaze giving way to something more understanding. She stepped closer, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"Y/N, Rafe isn't perfect. You know that better than anyone. But he's not the guy he used to be, either. He loves you. He's crazy about you. And yeah, he might freak out at first, but that doesn't mean he won't step up."

You swallowed hard, her words hitting a nerve. "What if this ruins everything?"

"What if it doesn't?" she countered gently. "What if this is what brings you guys even closer?"

You couldn't answer that. The fear was too overwhelming, the stakes too high.

"I just... need more time," you said finally, your voice shaky.

Sarah looked like she wanted to argue, but she stopped herself. Instead, she gave you a small, reassuring squeeze. "I'm here, okay? Whatever you need."

You nodded, grateful for her support, even though it didn't make the weight on your chest any lighter.

Later that day, Rafe seemed to sense your unease, even if he didn't understand the cause.

The two of you were sitting on the porch, the late afternoon sun warming your skin. He was leaning back in one of the chairs, a beer in hand, while you fidgeted with the hem of your sweater, barely able to focus on what he was saying.

"Babe," he said suddenly, setting the bottle down on the small table beside him. "Are you even listening to me?"

Your head snapped up, guilt washing over you. "What? Yeah, I was—"

"No, you weren't," he said, his tone light but tinged with concern. "What's going on with you? You've been acting weird all week."

Your heart raced as his blue eyes locked onto yours, sharp and searching. "Nothing," you said quickly, forcing a smile. "I've just been... tired."

Rafe didn't look convinced. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Is it me? Did I do something?"

"No," you said, your voice cracking slightly. "It's not you."

"Then what is it?" he asked, his tone more serious now. "Because whatever it is, it's eating you alive. I can see it."

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. The truth was right there, hovering on the tip of your tongue, but the fear of what might happen if you said it kept you silent.

Rafe sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Y/N, come on. Talk to me. I can't fix something if I don't know what it is."

Your chest tightened, and you stood abruptly, unable to sit under his gaze any longer. "I just need some air," you muttered, walking toward the steps.

"Y/N—"

"I'm fine, Rafe," you said, cutting him off. "I just need a minute."

You didn't look back as you walked away, your heart pounding in your ears.

That night, you lay in bed beside him again, staring at the ceiling while he slept soundly. His arm was draped over you, just like the night before, but instead of comfort, it felt like a reminder of everything you were keeping from him.

You knew you couldn't keep this secret forever. The cracks were already starting to show.

But for now, you stayed silent, clinging to the hope that you'd find the courage to tell him before it all came crashing down.