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Jesus fucking christ... Why the hell am I throwing up? Did I eat something bad last night? Nah, he would also be the same. Whatever, I'm just gonna call in sick, no point in worrying him either, last thing he needs is more stress, not with his big project going on at work.

"Babe! I'm calling out sick today, I don't feel well!" I call out to him, getting a sympathetic answer. I tell him not to worry about me, trying to put on my best smile even as my eyes doesn't reflect that, and that he should focus on his work. He reluctantly agrees and with a quick hug instead of a kiss, he heads out of our home. A warm flush of heat hits my body from within, and without realizing, I find myself lowering myself down to the cool floor.

After some time cooling down, I walk into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of cold water from the fridge before walking into the living room and settling onto our plush couch, trying to rack my brain in why I'm feeling so ill. Was it food? It couldn't be, he always makes the food and it's never been bad. A bug going around? Nah, not that either, I've been stuck in my office at work the whole time and no one's come in while I'm there.

Fuck. N-no, it couldn't be surely? Oh shit... I screw the lid of the bottle back on before darting off the sofa and towards the stairs. Skipping a step with each stride, I make my way to the bathroom, rifling under the kitchen sink for that box.

Minutes. Agonizing minutes go by that feel like years as I wait for those stupid lines to appear. But like fucking normal it's gonna be one line, of course it will the universe hates me... No way, t-two lines... I'm, I'm pregnant, with his baby. I pick up the test with shaley hands to make sure I'm not imagining it. No, it's real, so very fucking real. He's going to be so happy.

Alright, let me clean the house before he returns. I need to make sure everything is perfect for when I tell him the best fucking news ever!