Chapter 2

The morning light was too bright, piercing through the thin curtains of my tiny apartment. I winced as I rolled over, the dull ache in my head reminding me of the wine I’d had the night before. I blinked, trying to push the remnants of sleep away as I stared up at the ceiling. It was still strange to wake up here, in this small space that I now called home.

Three months had passed since that night with Lukas. Three months since I had walked away from everything I had ever known. I had moved across the city, as far from my family as I could manage, and rented this tiny one-bedroom apartment with the little money I had left. It wasn’t much, but it was mine.

I had found a job shortly after moving in, working as an assistant at a large multinational company. It wasn’t glamorous, but it paid the bills and, most importantly, it kept me under the radar. I wasn’t sure if my family was still looking for me, but I wasn’t taking any chances. The last thing I needed was to be dragged back into that nightmare.

My thoughts wandered back to Lukas, as they often did in the quiet moments. I had tried to forget about him, to push that night out of my mind, but it wasn’t easy. There were too many unanswered questions, too many things I wished I could say to him. But I knew I couldn’t dwell on it. I had made my choice, and I had to live with it.

With a sigh, I pushed myself out of bed and padded across the cold floor to the bathroom. The reflection in the mirror was a familiar stranger—tired eyes, dark circles, and hair that desperately needed attention. I splashed some cold water on my face, hoping it would wake me up enough to face the day.

As I got ready for work, I tried to focus on the routine, the small tasks that kept my mind occupied. Shower, dress, make a quick breakfast. Each step brought me closer to feeling like I was in control, like I was managing just fine on my own.

But that illusion shattered as soon as I stepped into the kitchen. The moment I smelled the coffee brewing, my stomach lurched, and I barely made it to the sink before the nausea hit. I gagged, my body trembling as I clung to the counter for support. This wasn’t the first time it had happened. For the past few mornings, I had woken up feeling queasy, but I had chalked it up to stress or a stomach bug.

But today was different. Today, a cold fear settled in my chest as the realization began to take shape. I couldn’t ignore the signs any longer. I knew what this could mean, and the thought terrified me.

With shaking hands, I fumbled for my phone and dialed the number of the nearest pharmacy. I asked the pharmacist about pregnancy tests, my voice barely steady. She rattled off the information I needed, and I hung up quickly, my mind racing.

I couldn’t afford to panic—not yet. I needed to be sure before I let myself spiral into fear. I grabbed my coat and bag, barely pausing to lock the door behind me as I rushed out of the apartment. The pharmacy wasn’t far, just a few blocks away, but the walk felt endless.

When I finally arrived, I hurried through the aisles, avoiding eye contact with anyone as I found the tests. I grabbed a couple of boxes, my hands trembling as I paid for them. The cashier didn’t say a word, but I could feel her eyes on me as I shoved the tests into my bag and hurried out.

Back in my apartment, I felt like the walls were closing in on me. The silence was suffocating as I locked myself in the bathroom and stared down at the boxes in my hands. My heart pounded in my chest as I tore one open, the instructions blurring before my eyes.

Just get it over with, I told myself. It’s better to know than to wonder.

I followed the instructions mechanically, my hands shaking the entire time. And then, all I could do was wait. Those few minutes felt like hours, each second ticking by in agonizing slow motion. I tried to prepare myself for the possibility, to think about what I would do if the test was positive. But the thoughts were too overwhelming, too frightening.

When the timer finally went off, I forced myself to look at the results. The two faint pink lines stared back at me, clear as day.

Pregnant.

The world tilted, and I sank down onto the cold bathroom floor, my breath coming in shallow gasps. This couldn’t be happening. Not now, not like this. I wasn’t ready—I hadn’t even thought about the possibility. My hands instinctively moved to my stomach, as if trying to connect with the life growing inside me.

Lukas. The realization hit me like a freight train. This child—these children, my mind corrected—were his. I could still hear the doctor’s voice from the appointment I’d had earlier that week, confirming not just one heartbeat, but two. Twins.

I felt a rush of emotions, all tangled together—fear, disbelief, a strange sense of awe. How could this be real? How could one night change everything so completely? And what was I supposed to do now?

A thousand thoughts raced through my mind, none of them making any sense. How could I raise two children on my own? What would happen when my family found out? What would Lukas think—if he ever found out?

I had tried so hard to leave that night behind, to start fresh, but now it was impossible. This was real, and I couldn’t run from it. I had to make a decision, and I had to make it fast.

But as I sat there on the cold bathroom floor, clutching the positive test in my hand, I realized that I didn’t have any answers. I was completely lost, with no idea where to turn or what to do next.

The fear threatened to swallow me whole, but beneath it, there was something else—a tiny flicker of hope. I placed a hand over my stomach again, feeling the warmth there, the beginning of something new. This wasn’t what I had planned, but maybe, just maybe, it was a chance to start over in a way I hadn’t expected.

But before I could even begin to figure things out, I had to tell Lukas. The thought sent a wave of panic through me, but I knew I couldn’t avoid it. He had a right to know, and I had a responsibility to face the consequences of that night.

I spent the rest of the day in a daze, going through the motions of my routine without really being present. Work was a blur, and I barely made it through without breaking down. By the time I got home, I was exhausted, both physically and emotionally.

I didn’t know how to reach Lukas—where to start, what to say. But I knew that hiding wasn’t an option. This was bigger than me, bigger than my fears. I had to find him, to tell him the truth, and to figure out what came next.

As I lay in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling, I tried to imagine what the future would look like. It was terrifying and uncertain, but for the first time in a long time, I felt a glimmer of hope. I didn’t know how Lukas would react, or what our lives would become, but I knew one thing for sure: I wasn’t alone anymore.

And that gave me the strength I needed to face whatever was coming.