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“Absolutely. We got you Serenity,” Egypt agreed.

As I laid in my bed later that night, I watched as the ceiling fan whirled around above me, dripping cold air down on my body, yet I felt overheated. My hand laid on my stomach and I grabbed my phone. I opened the pregnancy app I’d downloaded while I was in Atlanta.

It had been three weeks since I found out I was pregnant, and I knew it was nearing a time where I needed to set up an appointment for a checkup.

As I logged into the app, the first thing I saw were the wordsYou’re 11 weeks and 2 days. Your baby is now the size of a fig. Your baby has fingers and toes forming,and their bones are hardening.External genitalia hasalmost completely formed.Congrats Mama, you’ve made it another week.

My baby was forming fingers and toes. This shit was real. I made it up in my mind right then and there that I was keeping it and I would need to call my OB asap to make an appointment.

The morning airwas crisp as I walked the familiar streets of New York, hand resting on my stomach out of pure instinct.

I was thirteen weeks pregnant now. Three months.

The last time I had been at the doctor, they told me the risk of miscarriage had dropped significantly. It was the first good news I had received in what felt like forever. Physically, not much had changed. I had only gained a few pounds, and my stomach, though firm to the touch, wasn’t showing yet.

It was a blessing in disguise, considering the semester had started, and I couldn’t afford any distractions. Not when I was this close to graduating and not when I was determined to finish my degree.

When I got to school, the first thing I did was go to the dean of the dance program’s office. I was going to be in for a rough year especially being pregnant and I needed to inform her and all my professors.

"Miss Bradshaw, I can’t, in good conscience, allow you to continue in the program."

I sat stiffly in my seat, my nails digging into my palms. "Excuse me?" I asked, my voice calm but sharp.

She sighed, removing her glasses. "Serenity, you know how strenuous senior year is in Tisch’s dance program. It’s physically demanding. The hours, the rehearsals, the performances?—"

"I know all of that," I interrupted. "And I can handle it."

She gave me a pointed look. "You’re pregnant."

"And I’m healthy," I countered. "I already spoke to my doctor, and she said as long as I take care of myself, I can complete this semester at least with no issues. I’ll figure things out for next semester, maybe I take it off before coming back in the fall."

She folded her arms. "But what about the baby? You don’t want to put unnecessary stress on your body."

"The baby is fine," I reassured. "And I know my limits. If I feel like I can’t handle it, I’ll be the first to say so. But I’ve worked too damn hard to let this stop me now."

She studied me for a long moment. Then, with a sigh, she nodded. "Fine. But if you feel even the slightest discomfort, you come to me immediately."

"I will," I promised.

Leaving the office, I let out a breath of relief. I wasn’t giving up. Not on my dreams, not on my future and certainly not on myself.

That night, I sat curled up on the couch in the penthouse, a half-empty carton of Chicken fried rice in my lap. For the first time in weeks, I was eating something and not throwing it up.

"You finally keeping food down?" Ari asked from the other couch.

"Barely." I sighed, shoving another forkful into my mouth.

"Good, because we were this close to force-feeding you," Egypt added.

"I was actually looking up IV therapy places," Averi chimed in.

I rolled my eyes. "Y’all are so dramatic."

The three of them exchanged looks.

"Says the girl who’s been surviving on ginger ale and crackers for weeks," Ari teased.

I was about to fire back, but then?—