The restroom smelled faintly of citrus cleaner, café music muffled through the door. Alex gripped the sink, breath ragged. The taste of bile still clung to her throat.
Camila tore a paper towel from the dispenser, dabbing at Alex's damp face before smoothing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Hey. Breathe. You're okay."
"You're probably just exhausted," she went on, brushing Alex's hair down like she always did. "Wedding, Jake, moving. Stress wrecks cycles. Don't jump ahead. We'll grab a strip. Or give me a sample and I'll run it at the hospital. Quick, simple."
Alex said nothing, just stared at the streak of water running down porcelain.
"And listen," Camila pressed gently, her voice softer now, "maybe Jake isn't all bad. Honeymoon leave means rest. You need that. After all this chaos, maybe—"
"Harry."
The word sliced through her ramble.
Camila blinked. "What?"
Alex's grip on the sink tightened. Her voice came out low, raw.
"I slept with him. The night before I walked in on him… with her. I was stupid, distracted. I didn't even take the pill."
Her chest rose, trembled, and her eyes flicked up to her own reflection, hating what stared back.
"If I'm pregnant…" her voice cracked, "it's his. And I can't have his baby."
Camila's hand stayed on her shoulder, even after that shattering confession. Her thumb rubbed a slow, steady line over Alex's trembling collarbone, as if she could massage away the dread choking her.
"Hey. Listen to me," Camila whispered, her tone equal parts steel and gentleness. "We don't know yet. Stress alone can delay you, and God knows you've had more than enough of that these past few weeks."
Alex gave no reply, only stared at the sink as though her reflection might dissolve if she blinked.
Camila sighed, snapping into motion. "Come on, babe. Standing here won't change a thing. Let's go." She hooked her arm firmly through Alex's and practically dragged her out of the restroom.
When they returned to their booth, their cold coffee and half-eaten pastries stared back at them. Alex reached into her purse for her card, but Camila was quicker. She waved her off.
"I've got it," she said, already pulling out her own card.
"Cam..."
"No arguments. You've got bigger things to worry about than a café bill."
The waitress boxed up their leftovers, sliding the small takeout bag across the counter. Camila scooped it up without hesitation, then smoothly plucked Alex's car key from her grip.
"I'll drive. You're not in any state to," she said, her tone leaving no room for protest.
Alex barely managed a weary nod, following her friend numbly through the café doors into the thick city air.
---
The nearest pharmacy wasn't far, and the fluorescent lights burned white above them and Alex flinched. Camila moved with her usual efficiency, grabbing the pregnancy test strip first before sweeping other necessities into the basket; feminine wipes, pads, a small bottle of water, even a chocolate bar as though sugar could soothe a storm.
Alex trailed behind, arms crossed, trying to keep her mind from racing. And as they rounded into the checkout line, she saw him.
Harry.
Jeans, a basket hooked in his arm filled with men's toiletries, protein bars, and a bottle of mouthwash; ordinary—until his eyes found hers. He froze a beat, then his gaze dropped to the thin box in Alex's hand.
Camila moved before Alex could think, plucking the test strip from her hand with an easy smile.
"Oh, this?" Her laugh rang out, light and careless, though her eyes never blinked. "It's mine. Just making sure my body isn't pulling a prank on me. You know how it is."
She dropped it into the basket with the rest of their things, the same way someone might toss in gum or a hair clip. Ordinary, unimportant.
Harry's eyes flicked from Alex to Camila, then back again, suspicion narrowing his gaze. Camila only laughed again, lighter this time, waving him off. "Relax, it's not that serious." She reached for another item, as though filling the silence with motion could erase the tension.
Heat flushed Alex's face, a hot shame that fizzed under her skin. She couldn't stand it. His look, the memory he dragged up. With a sharp sigh, she turned and strode out of the pharmacy without waiting for Camila.
The bell chimed behind her and Harry caught up as she pushed through the door.
"Alex, please." His voice cracked, raw. "Don't walk away like I'm nothing. I screwed up, I know. But you can't say you don't still feel something. Not after us."
Alex didn't stop. Her heels hit the pavement in sharp clicks, each step fueled by fury.
Harry followed, words tumbling fast. "You got married two weeks after we broke up. Two weeks! What was I supposed to think? That you weren't already seeing him?" His voice turned sharp, bitter.
She spun, eyes blazing. Her lips parted, but no words came. The silence was louder than any scream.
She turned back, yanking her car door open. Harry's hand clamped her arm. His voice dropped, trembling.
"Alex… are you pregnant? Is it mine?"
Her chest froze, breath locking inside her.
Before she could speak, Camila's voice sliced through. "Let her go."
She was at Alex's side in a heartbeat, shoving his hand off. Her glare was fire. "You've done enough. Stay away."
Camila pushed Alex into the passenger seat, slid behind the wheel, and sped off.
Harry stood under the pharmacy lights, fists clenching, the question still hanging in the night air.