Chapter 5 Two lines

Time passed. They celebrated anniversaries, developed rituals, became part of each other's daily existence.

Everything was falling into place.

In November, they celebrated their two-year anniversary at the nicest restaurant they could afford, over pasta, wine and candlelight. Alexander took her hand.

"Two years. Best two years of my life."

"Mine too."

"After graduation, after we get settled in San Francisco, I'm asking you properly. With a ring and everything."

"I'll say yes. With enthusiasm and everything."

They laughed. She felt the future stretch ahead of them, bright and certain and full of possibility.

She had no way of knowing that in three months, everything would shatter.

Senior year arrived with its particular brand of chaos. Carla was juggling a full course load, an internship with a local marketing firm, and increasingly ambitious plans for her own business. Alexander was deep in his thesis project, cranky from lack of sleep but still showing up at her apartment with coffee and kisses.

They made it work. Late night study sessions that turned into sex on her lumpy futon. Stolen weekends when they'd ignore responsibilities and just enjoy each others company. Arguments about stupid things that ended with apologies and his hands in her hair and whispered promises against her skin.

They were building something together.

And then, three months before graduation, Carla's period was late.

The pregnancy test sat on the edge of Alexander's bathroom sink, two pink lines glaring at her like an accusation.

Two lines. Unmistakably positive.

She'd taken it in a CVS bathroom twenty minutes ago, unable to wait until she got home. Then she drove to Alexander's apartment in a daze, hands shaking on the wheel, the test wrapped in toilet paper in her purse like contraband.

This wasn't possible. We were careful.

Apparently not.

She stared at those two lines and felt her carefully constructed future tilt sideways. Her career. His career. Everything they'd built and planned and dreamed about. Graduation was three months away. She had a job offer in San Francisco. Alexander had interviews lined up. They had plans.

Achievable plans.

None of them included a baby.

The bathroom door was closed but she could hear Alexander in the other room, probably coding something for his thesis project. She needed to tell him. Needed to walk out there and show him this test and watch their entire future rearrange itself in real-time.

But she couldn't move. Couldn't breathe, couldn't process that this was really happening.

Finally, she forced herself to open the door.

Alexander looked up from his laptop, smiling. "Hey, I wasn't expecting..." He stopped. "What's wrong?"

She held up the test.

His face went through a series of expressions too fast to catalog—shock, fear, confusion. Then something that might have been wonder. He crossed the room in two strides and pulled her into his arms so tightly she could barely breathe.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Just held onto each other while the magnitude of it settled over them like snow.

"Okay," Alexander finally said, pulling back to look at her. "Okay. We can do this."

"Can we?" Hee voice cracked. "Alex, I'm about to graduate. We have things planned out. A baby isn't...this wasn't..."

"I know." He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs wiping away tears she didn't realize were falling. "I know this isn't what we planned. But Carla, we love each other. We're building a life together anyway. He nodded, convincing himself as much as her. "People do this, right? People have babies. We'll figure it out. I'll get a job. A good job. You've got that offer from the marketing firm. We'll make it work. Maybe this is just us starting our life sooner than we thought."

She wanted to trust the certainty in his voice, the way his hands cupped her face like she was something precious.

"Are you sure?" she asked. "Because—"

"I'm sure." He kissed her, soft and sweet and full of promises. "I'm sure about you. I'm sure about us. We're keeping this baby."

"Your Silicon Valley dreams—"

"Can wait. Or adapt. People have babies and careers. We'll figure it out."

"My parents are going to–"

"Are going to love their grandchild." He kissed her forehead, her nose, her lips. "We can do this. I know we can. We're a team, remember?"

She wanted to believe him. Wanted to trust that love and determination were enough to overcome logistics and fear and the sheer impossibility of becoming parents at nineteen and twenty-three.

"Are you sure?" She asked. "Because once we do this, there's no going back. This is real. This is forever."

"I'm sure about you." His voice was steady, certain. "I'm sure about us. So yes, I'm sure about this. We're keeping this baby."

Something in her chest loosened slightly. "We're keeping this baby."

"We're keeping this baby." He pulled her close again, and she let herself lean into him.

They spent the rest of that afternoon planning. Adjusting their timeline, researching apartments in San Francisco that could accommodate a baby, talking about daycare and budgets and all the practical details that suddenly mattered.

They told their parents that weekend. Carla's mum cried, whether from joy or concern, she couldn't tell. Her father was quiet, assessing, but he pulled Alexander aside for a conversation she wasn't privy to. When they returned, Daniel nodded at her. Not quite approval, but acceptance.

Alexander's parents were supportive too, though his mother sent care packages with prenatal vitamins and unsolicited advice that made Alexander roll his eyes but also smile.

"We're really doing this," she said one night, lying in Alexander's bed with his hand on her still-flat stomach.

"We're really doing this." He kissed her softly. "You're going to be an amazing mom."

"And you're going to be an amazing dad."

He was quiet for a moment. "I hope so. I'm terrified, but I hope so."

"Me too. Terrified, I mean."

"We'll figure it out together. That's what we do."

It wouldn't be easy. But they'd make it work.

They had to.

The rest of senior year passed in a blur of classes and doctor's appointments and morning sickness that Alexander handled with surprising ease. He'd hold her hair while she threw up, bring her crackers and ginger ale, rub her feet when they started swelling.

His presence and involvement made it easier to go through.

She graduated seven months pregnant, walking across that stage with her growing belly and her Business Administration degree and Alexander cheering loudly from the audience. The marketing firm confirmed her deferred start date; three months after the baby was born.

Everything was adjusted but intact. They'd made new plans that accommodated this unexpected development. They were adapting and overcoming.

Because they loved each other.

What could possibly go wrong?

He supported and cared for her and the pregnancy. Held her while she cried through hormone-induced emotional breakdowns, talked to their child through her belly, promised forever with such sincerity.

He was there. Present, committed. Right up until the morning he wasn't.