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“Just—give me a second.”

I don’t get it.

Everything blinks out.

I wake up to fluorescent lighting, thin blankets, and the faint beep of machines that only mean one thing—I’m in a hospital. My head is pounding, and everything tastes like crap.

A nurse checks the IV taped to the back of my hand. “You fainted at work,” she explains calmly. “Someone saw you go down. Lucky they did—you were dehydrated and your vitals dropped.”

“Awesome,” I mumble, pushing hair off my sticky forehead. “So now I’m the drama.”

“You gave us a scare,” she says. “The doctor ordered a few more tests to rule out anything else.”

I nod faintly. Except my head feels heavier than it should.

I hate the way this place smells—like lemon cleaner and bad news. Too bright. Too cold. It makes my skin itch.

I twist the corner of the blanket between my fingers and stare at the wall. If I focus on anything else, I might fall apart.

The door opens.

My breath catches.

The doctor walks in with that steady, practiced calm I’ve learned to question.

“Miss Novak,” she says gently. “Your tests came back.”

I sit up straighter. “So, is it the Norovirus or Food poisoning?”

A pause. And deep down, I already know this isn’t just stress. Or too many drinks last weekend.

Or Griffin’s voice echoing in my head like a broken siren. ‘He’s going to hurt you, Kat.’

She shakes her head. “You’re pregnant.”

Time slows.

I blink.

Let out a laugh— It sounds like a joke.

“Sorry, what?”

She repeats it. Clear. Measured. Final.

“You’re pregnant.”

The words hang in the room like morning fog.

Pregnant.

That word bounces around my skull like a pinball, hitting every anxiety I’ve ever buried. I count backwards in my head—when was my last period? When did Liam and I...? The math makes my stomach turn in a way that has nothing to do with morning sickness.

The doctor keeps talking. Something about prenatal vitamins and first trimester precautions. Her voice sounds like it’s coming through water.

I nod at appropriate intervals, but inside I’m calculating. Griffin will lose his fucking mind. My parents are going to have questions I can’t answer. The team—God, what about the team?

I try to speak, but my mouth won’t move.