The Sons Friend (18+)

Surprise - Extra Part

The mid-morning light filtered softly through the cream curtains in the bedroom, casting golden shadows across the hardwood floor. Selena shifted her laptop slightly on the bed, careful not to disturb the small body snuggled beside her. Marianna, with her mop of curls and thumb planted firmly in her mouth, was fast asleep, one tiny foot hooked around Selena's thigh like she was anchoring herself to her mother even in dreams while her other arm hung out.

Selena paused mid-email, her hand resting lightly on her stomach.

She had been nauseous on and off for a week—just a low hum of queasiness in the mornings and sudden exhaustion in the afternoons. At first, she chalked it up to stress: catching up on notes, client crises, the constant dance of tug of a toddler and a preschooler. She was forty-two. She was tired.

Of course she was tired.

But this morning, when she'd nearly retched over the smell of Marianna's brown sugar oatmeal, something had tugged at her.

Not a fear, exactly. More like... hope.

After Isabel, her sweet whirlwind of a girl, she'd told Silas she would be happy if their little family stayed as it was though initially wanting a large family. Then Marianna came along—a surprise, a miracle—and they fell into an easy rhythm of chaos and cuddles and late-night quiet moments in the kitchen when Silas made tea in his boxers and kissed her shoulder while the girls slept down the hall.

Selena thought maybe her body had closed the door gently on that chapter.

But the feeling—today—was undeniable.

Her laptop pinged with a new message, but she ignored it. Instead, she gently removed herself from Marianna's grip and padded to the bathroom. Her feet were covered in fluffy socks, the cold of the floor irritating her. The house smelled faintly of Silas's cologne from when he kissed her this morning, a habit he never skipped, even when she was groggy and half-asleep.

She'd bought the test days ago—more out of curiosity than expectation. Now it trembled slightly in her hand as she waited, her heart hammering in a rhythm she hadn't felt since those early days with Silas, when every glance between them felt like stolen secrets.

Three minutes.

She stared at the mirror. Her hair was loose, curling wild and untamed. She wore one of Silas's old t-shirts, the cotton soft from hundreds of washes. She looked... calm. Tired. Still beautiful, in that effortless, grown-woman way that Silas always told her drove him crazy.

She glanced down at the test.

And blinked.

Two lines.

Bold. Pink. Definite.

"Oh my God," she whispered.

Her knees buckled and she sat on the edge of the tub, the test still clutched in her hand like it might change its mind.

Pregnant.

Pregnant.

Her throat tightened as emotion rose thick and fast. Tears spilled over before she could stop them—silent, grateful, stunned tears. A baby. Another baby. After everything. After she'd let herself think maybe the window had closed.

Selena placed a hand over her stomach, her fingers splaying softly. There was nothing yet—not really. But in her mind she already imagined the curve returning, the tiny flutters in the night, Silas's hand pressed gently to her belly as he murmured to the baby in Spanish, in Farsi, in that soft tone that made her fall in love with him a little more every time.

A small voice outside the door called, "Mama?"

Marianna.

Selena wiped her cheeks quickly, pocketed the test, and opened the door. Her two-year-old stood there in her oversized llama pajamas, her curls flattened on one side. She blinked up at her mother, a little confused.