“This is stupid… I’m not pregnant.”

“You have to pee on this bit and put the lid back on… Do you need me to come in and help?”

“Really? Help me pee on a stick?” I frown at him and he sort of shrugs. Ever since he went for this damn thing at stupid o’clock, he has practically harassed me nonstop to do it already. I want to go to bed and be left alone.

I think he’s read the instructions a dozen times and I take it from him roughly and roll my eyes.

“Maybe you should do the test, as sometimes, I think you are definitely the girl in this relationship.” I huff at him in irritation so done with this topic now and turn to head for the bathroom. Quicker I get this over and done with, the quicker I can get to bed and go to sleep, and he can shut up once and for all.

It’s not easy to pee when your beloved is talking through the door at you trying to give direction and offer advice on balancing while peeing. I tell him to shut up and leave me to do it, almost urinating on my own hand in the process. I’m tired, still nauseous, and groggy brained. It’s almost dawn and I need to lay down.

When I am done I put the lid on and wash both my hands and it, in the sink for fear I may have peed everywhere I shouldn’t have and leave it sitting on the edge of the bowl and go back out. He may annoy me sometimes, but I know the germaphobe in him would appreciate that I took time to rinse it off for him.

“Where is it?” Arry looks me up and down as though I may have bodily concealed it for him, and I sigh again.

“In there, on the sink… Knock yourself out. I cleaned it for you, so yes you can go cuddle it close if you like.” I push past him with a hand to his abs and go off in search of a warm comfy bed, so I can finally sleep. He can go play with his piss stick and worry himself over nothing. I am not getting involved.

“There’s a spare one for you, baby… I recommend you check you’re not actually the pregnant one.” I call after him when he disappears into the bathroom and doesn’t come back out. I head out to the kitchen for a glass of water to take to bed with me, yawning as I go. Wiped out and still under the weather.

I spend a few minutes in the kitchen filling my glass with ice and bottled water and head back into the lounge. I’m startled to see Arrick sitting on the couch, forward with his elbows on his knees and staring blankly at that yucky test in his hands.

“Eww… You could have waited in the bathroom with that. Are you seriously going to stare at it for the full however many minutes you need to wait?” I sigh and sit down beside him, trying to ignore his weirdness for once and feeling more bewildered than annoyed with him.

He says it so softly, almost inaudibly, that I

he’s trying to wind me up and being stupid. “Shut up” I giggle and take a sip of my water, while watching that crazily

still for a moment then runs a hand through his

shocked low and tight tone

joke. My stomach

Almost choking when I see it there in black and white,

Pregnant

2-3 weeks

surroundings yet I know he hasn’t moved either. “It’s wrong or faulty. I should take the other one.” I get up way too fast and spill my water as dizziness knocks me off balance. Arrick catches me by my naked

the same tone as me and we both seem to stare down at the

did you buy? I’ll do it again.” I turn on him almost accusingly and

two… Come on.” He takes my glass and puts it on the

***

tests say the same exact thing and are laid out on the comforter in a

am in full panic mode and gawping at the little tiny words in front of us. I don’t

understatement.” Arrick is having as much of a hard time of this as me and

person, free falling as panic and fear grips me, and

to terms with

and we don’t even have a kid friendly apartment or place for a baby in it. Our life has no place for a fucking kid” It’s a mind fart of epic proportions, anger bursting out of me because I simply do not know how to process this or react. I think I may be in shock, but he stares

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