Rafe Cameron Imagines

Pregnant Final Part🤍

The day had started off surprisingly normal. You'd woken up feeling slightly better, your nausea ebbing for once, and Sarah had practically dragged you out of the house for a day of shopping. She'd insisted it would clear your head and help you figure out exactly how to tell Rafe.

"Just imagine his face when you tell him," Sarah said as she rummaged through a rack of sundresses. "He's probably going to look like you punched him in the gut for a second, but after that? He'll be fine. Maybe even excited."

You huffed out a nervous laugh, trailing behind her with your arms folded. "That's an optimistic take."

"It's a realistic take," she corrected, pulling a pale blue dress off the rack and holding it up to you. "Try this. It'll look cute when you tell him tonight."

"Sarah," you groaned, but she shoved the dress into your hands anyway.

"Trust me, Y/N. It's time to stop hiding. You're going to feel so much better once it's out in the open."

You nodded reluctantly, letting her guide you toward the dressing rooms. She was right—you couldn't keep this a secret forever. And you'd already decided that tonight would be the night. You just hadn't expected Rafe to beat you to the punch.

Back at Tannyhill, Rafe stood in the bathroom, holding the unmistakable evidence in his hands.

He'd gone in to grab his razor and noticed the trash can wasn't quite closed. It wasn't like you to leave anything half-done, so he'd nudged it open, curious.

And there they were. Two crumpled pregnancy tests, faint pink lines glaring up at him like a slap to the face.

For a moment, he just stared, his mind reeling.

Pregnant.

His chest tightened as a dozen questions bombarded him at once. How long had you known? Why hadn't you told him? Were you scared? Ashamed? Did you think he wouldn't want the baby?

His grip on the tests tightened as his heart pounded in his chest. He wasn't angry, not exactly, but he was hurt. Confused. And above all, desperate to talk to you.

He grabbed his phone and called you, pacing the bedroom as the line rang.

You were in the middle of pulling the blue dress over your head when your phone buzzed on the bench beside you.

"It's Rafe," you called out to Sarah, your voice muffled by the fabric.

"Well, answer it!" Sarah said from outside the dressing room.

You tugged the dress down, your hands fumbling as you picked up the phone. "Hey," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Where are you?" Rafe asked, his tone sharp.

"I'm out with Sarah," you said slowly, your stomach twisting at the tension in his voice. "Why?"

"We need to talk," he said. "Now."

Your heart sank. "Rafe, what's going on?"

"I think you know," he said, his voice quieter now, but no less intense. "Come home. Please."

He hung up before you could respond.

You stepped out of the dressing room, your face pale, and Sarah immediately picked up on your unease.

"What's wrong?" she asked, concern flashing across her face.

"He knows," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sarah's eyes widened. "What? How?"

"I don't know," you said, shaking your head. "But he just called me. He sounded... upset."

"Do you want me to come with you?" she asked.

"No," you said quickly, though your voice trembled. "I need to handle this on my own."

The drive back to Tannyhill felt like an eternity. Your hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as you tried to prepare for what was coming.

When you walked into the house, the air felt heavy, almost suffocating. You found Rafe in the living room, pacing back and forth. He looked up the moment he heard your footsteps.

"Hey," you said softly, setting your bag down on the table.

Rafe turned to face you, his blue eyes burning with a mixture of emotions—hurt, confusion, fear. In his hand, he held one of the pregnancy tests.

"You want to explain this?" he asked, his voice calm but strained.

Your heart dropped. There was no use pretending anymore. He knew.

"Rafe, I was going to tell you tonight," you said, stepping closer. "I swear."

"Tonight?" he repeated, his voice rising slightly. "How long have you known, Y/N?"

You hesitated, guilt washing over you. "About a week."

"A week?" He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a shaky laugh. "You've known for a week, and you didn't think to tell me? Do you know how I felt finding out like this? In the trash, Y/N?"

Tears welled up in your eyes as you shook your head. "I wasn't trying to hide it from you, Rafe. I just... I was scared. I didn't know how you'd react."

"Scared of what?" he asked, his voice breaking. "That I'd leave? That I wouldn't want this?"

"Yes," you admitted, the word coming out as a sob. "I didn't know what you'd say, Rafe. I didn't know if you were ready for this—or if I was."

Rafe's expression softened slightly, the anger fading from his eyes. He stepped closer, his hands moving to your shoulders. "Y/N, I'm scared too. I don't have a clue what I'm doing here. But I'd never leave you. And I'd never turn my back on you or... or our baby."

The raw emotion in his voice broke something inside you, and you collapsed into his arms, letting out a choked sob.

"I'm sorry," you whispered. "I should've told you sooner."

Rafe held you tightly, his hands running up and down your back. "It's okay," he murmured. "We'll figure this out. Together."

For the first time in days, the weight on your chest began to lift. You weren't alone in this. You never had been.

"I love you," Rafe said softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"I love you too," you whispered, leaning into him.

And for the first time since you'd found out, you allowed yourself to believe that everything might actually be okay.