CELESTE
The world had shrunk to the size of a small, plastic stick. I sat on the edge of my bathtub, my perfectly manicured fingernails digging into the cold porcelain.
The opulent bathroom in the Lawson family estate felt like a prison. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat of pure terror.
I was twenty years old. And the test was positive.
I had known for days, a sickening dread growing in my stomach alongside the tiny, impossible secret. I'd hidden the nausea, the fatigue, pretending everything was fine.
But now, the proof was right there, in bold, unforgiving lines.
Pregnant.
The word echoed in my mind, loud and terrifying. The father was a blurry memory from a night of tequila and poor decisions, a guy whose name I never even got.
What was I going to do? My parents… the thought alone made my blood run cold. My life, my future at university, my place in the family—it was all about to shatter.
With a trembling hand, I wrapped the test in a tissue and hid it in the very back of my bathroom drawer, beneath a stack of silk scarves. I just needed a little more time to think.
I didn't get it.
Later that afternoon, the door to my bedroom flew open with such force it slammed against the wall. I jumped up from my desk, my economics textbook forgotten.
My mother, Margot, stood in the doorway. She wasn't just angry; she was incandescent with rage. Her face was a cold, beautiful mask of fury. In her hand, she held the crumpled tissue, the positive test clearly visible.
"What," my mother's voice was a low, venomous hiss, "is this filth?"
My breath caught in my throat. The room seemed to spin. "Mother, I can explain—"
"Explain?" she cut me off, her voice rising to a sharp crescendo. She strode into the room and threw the test onto my pristine white bedspread as if it were contaminated. "Explain how you could be so stupid? So reckless! You are a Lawson! This… this bastard thing you're carrying is a disgrace!"
"It's not a thing, it's a baby!" I cried out, my own fear momentarily eclipsed by a surge of protective instinct.
"It is a scandal!" she shrieked. "Do you have any idea what this will do to us? To our name? Who was it? Some trash you picked up at a bar? You worthless girl!"
The commotion brought my father, Laurel, to the doorway. He stood there, his hands in the pockets of his tailored trousers, his expression not one of concern, but of severe disappointment. "Margot, what is all this shouting? The staff can hear."
"Ask your daughter!" my mother spat, pointing a shaking finger at the test on the bed. "Ask her what she's done to this family!"
My father's eyes fell on the plastic stick. His face went pale, then hardened. The look he gave me wasn't one of paternal care; it was the look a CEO gives a failing investment. "Celeste. Is this true?"
Before I could answer, another figure appeared behind my father. Chris, my twin brother. He hovered just outside the room, his eyes wide with shock. He looked from my tear-streaked face to the test on the bed, to the furious faces of our parents. He said nothing. He just stood there, a silent spectator to the execution of my old life.
"It was a mistake," I pleaded, my voice breaking. "One night! Please…"
"One night is all it takes to ruin everything we've built," my father said, his voice cold and final. "You have made your choice. You have chosen to spit on this family's legacy."
"Get rid of it," my mother commanded, her tone leaving no room for arguement. "You will end this pregnancy, and you will never speak of it again. That is the only way."
The words hit me like a physical blow. End it? I looked at my mother's icy glare, my father's cold disapproval, and my brother's silent, terrified face.
In that moment, something in me broke, and then something else, something stronger, hardened. I wiped my tears away with the back of my hand.
"No," I said, my voice surprisingly steady.
The room went silent.
"No?" my mother whispered, the word dripping with menace.
"I won't," I said, lifting my chin. "It's my baby."
My mother stared at me as if I were a stranger. A dangerous, disgusting stranger. "Then you are no daughter of mine," she said, each word a shard of ice. "Get out of my house. You and your bastard are no longer Lawsons."
She turned and walked out. My father gave me one last look of utter contempt and followed his wife.
I stood alone in the middle of my beautiful room, my world in ashes. My eyes found Chris's in the doorway. For a second, I saw a flicker of pain, of conflict. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then he just shook his head, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He turned and walked away, leaving me completely alone.
I was pregnant, disowned, and utterly terrified. But as I placed a hand on my stomach, I knew one thing for certain. I was keeping my baby.
I moved through my room like a ghost. The fancy decorations and expensive clothes now felt like they belonged to someone else.
With shaking hands, I pulled a small suitcase from my closet. I didn't pack the designer dresses or the pretty shoes. I stuffed in simple jeans, a few sweaters, my toothbrush, and the little money I had saved up. From my nightstand, I grabbed a single photo of me and Chris as kids, smiling with our arms around each other. It was a different time.
I hesitated, then opened the bottom drawer of my dresser. Tucked under my socks was a small, worn stuffed rabbit from my own childhood. I couldn't leave it behind. I placed it gently on top of my clothes and closed the suitcase with a quiet click.
The walk down the grand staircase was the longest of my life. Each step echoed in the silent, enormous house. I could feel eyes on me.
In the living room doorway, my parents stood together. My mother had her arms crossed, her face a cold, unmovable mask. My father just watched with a look of grim satisfaction, as if he were finally throwing out the trash. They didn't say a word. They didn't try to stop me. They just watched me go.
Chris was there too, lingering in the shadowy hall behind them. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides. He looked pale and unhappy, his eyes fixed on me. For one heartbreaking second, our eyes met. I saw the conflict in his gaze, the urge to say something, to do something.
But his eyes flicked to our parents' stiff backs, and his shoulders slumped. He looked down at the floor, choosing his silence. The message was clear. He would not choose me.
The heavy front door closed behind me with a final, thunderous sound. I was out on the manicured lawn, alone. The cool evening air hit my face. I fumbled my phone out of my pocket, my fingers trembling so badly I could barely dial.
My best friend, Maya, answered on the first ring. "Celeste? Hey, what's up?"
The sound of her cheerful voice broke me. A sob escaped my lips before I could stop it. "Maya?" I choked out. "Can you... can I come over? For a little while?"
"Celeste? What's wrong?" Her voice instantly shifted from cheerful to serious and concerned. "Of course you can. What happened? Are you okay?"
"I... I can't explain right now," I whispered, my voice thick with tears. "My parents... they kicked me out."
"Kicked you out?!" Her shock was clear even through the phone. "Get in a cab right now. Come straight here. Don't even think about it. My house is your house. Okay? Just get here."
The kindness was almost too much. "Okay," I breathed. "Thank you, Maya."
"Always. Now hurry up."
The phone call ended. I stood on the curb, the lights of the Lawson mansion blazing behind me, a monument to everything I had lost. I hugged my arms around myself, the reality of my situation crashing down. I was pregnant, alone, and had nowhere to go.
I finally managed to flag down a taxi. I gave Maya's address in Brooklyn, a world away from my old life. As the car pulled away from the curb, I turned for one last look at the only home I'd ever known.
Through the large living room window, I could still see the three figures of my family, standing exactly where I'd left them. They weren't watching me leave. They were already turning away, moving back into their perfect world, as if I had never existed at all.
The taxi drove off, carrying me toward an uncertain future.
And in the quiet darkness of the backseat, I placed a hand on my stomach, finally allowing the full weight of my fear to crush me. I was completely on my own.
Or so I thought.