The air in Lydia's bedroom was thick with tension, the soft golden glow of the bedside lamp casting elongated shadows on the walls. Evander sat on the edge of her bed, one hand resting on his knee while the other held a glass of water he hadn't taken a sip from. The moment he stepped into her house that evening, he had sensed something was off. Lydia had been pacing in front of him for the last five minutes, wringing her hands and biting her lower lip as if she was gathering the courage to say something monumental.
Then, she stopped and turned to face him. Her usually poised demeanor crumbled, her hazel eyes wide with barely concealed panic.
"I'm pregnant," she blurted out, her voice barely above a whisper.
Evander froze. He felt the weight of her words sink into his skin, chilling him to the bone. He blinked once. Twice. His breath hitched in his throat, and for a brief moment, his mind went blank.