Chapter Three: Two Lines

The morning sun streamed through the thin curtains of Mia's small apartment, casting a golden hue across the unmade bed and the half-empty glass of water on her nightstand. The silence was deafening — too heavy for a woman who had spent the past few weeks drowning herself in work and sleepless nights.

She hadn't been the same since that night.

The night she had lost everything — her boyfriend, her best friend, her sense of stability — only to end up in the arms of a stranger. A night that should have been a fleeting mistake, buried under the weight of heartbreak and whiskey.

But now, weeks later, the consequences of that night were staring her in the face.

Two pink lines.

Mia's hand trembled as she clutched the pregnancy test, her heart pounding so loud she thought it might break through her ribs. She blinked once, twice — hoping, praying the second line would fade away like a cruel illusion.

But it didn't.

The reality hit her like a wave, knocking the air from her lungs.

She was pregnant.

Her mind spiraled. She wasn't ready for this — not now, not like this. She was barely holding herself together after Ryan's betrayal. How was she supposed to raise a child when her life was in shambles?

And the father…

Her chest tightened. She didn't even know his name.

The mysterious man from the bar — the one who had unknowingly become a part of her future — was just a memory now. A stranger lost in the blur of one reckless night.

A soft knock on the door jolted her from her thoughts.

"Mia?" came Lily's familiar voice. "I swear, if you don't open this door, I'm breaking in."

Mia didn't answer. Her legs felt like lead, her hand still frozen around the pregnancy test.

A few seconds later, the door creaked open, and Lily stepped inside, a bag of pastries in one hand and an iced coffee in the other. Her bright smile faded the moment she saw Mia's face — pale, wide-eyed, and lost.

"What happened?" Lily's voice softened as she placed the bag on the counter and stepped closer. "Mia… talk to me."

Mia couldn't speak. Instead, she slowly lifted the pregnancy test, her hand shaking as she revealed the two unrelenting lines.

Lily's eyes widened. "Oh, my God."

Silence hung between them for a long moment before Lily finally spoke again.

"Is it… his?" she asked cautiously. She didn't need to clarify who she meant — the stranger from the bar was the only possibility.

Mia gave a small nod, her voice barely a whisper. "I don't even know his name, Lily."

Her sister's heart broke for her. Lily crossed the room and wrapped Mia in a tight embrace, and for the first time since taking the test, Mia let the tears fall.

"What am I going to do?" Mia choked out. "I can't… I can't do this alone."

"You're not alone," Lily said firmly. "You have me."

Mia pulled back, wiping her face with the sleeve of her sweater. "That's not what I meant. I'm going to be a single mom. This wasn't how my life was supposed to go."

Lily's gaze softened. "Then we find him."

Mia's head snapped up. "What?"

"The father," Lily said. "We can track him down — the bar, anything you remember. He deserves to know, Mia."

But Mia shook her head, panic flaring in her chest. "No. I don't even know his full name. I don't want to drag him into this. He was just… it was just one night."

Lily's brow furrowed. "But this is his child too."

"I don't want to find him," Mia said, her voice breaking. "I can't."

Her sister studied her for a long moment, clearly fighting the urge to push the issue. "Then what are you going to do?"

Mia took a shaky breath. "I need a fresh start. I can't stay here — not with all the memories of Ryan and Samantha, not with people whispering about me behind my back."

Lily's lips parted in surprise. "You're leaving?"

Mia nodded slowly. "Just for a while. I need a change of scenery — somewhere new, somewhere no one knows me."

Lily bit her lip, clearly torn, but then she gave a reluctant nod. "If that's what you need, I'll support you."

A tear slid down Mia's cheek, but this time, it wasn't just from fear — it was from the tiniest flicker of hope.

Because maybe — just maybe — running away would give her the chance to build something new.

Something just for her and her unborn child.