Morning Sickness

The office buzzed with its usual mid-morning rhythm—keyboards clicking, phones ringing, and quiet chatter in the background. Emily sat at her desk, trying to focus on the report in front of her, but her concentration kept slipping. A wave of nausea had been building all morning—mild at first, but growing stronger with time. She thought it might be stress or something she ate, but the uneasy feeling wouldn't go away. Her head throbbed with a dull ache, and her stomach twisted uncomfortably.

She leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes, and took a slow breath, hoping it would pass. But the discomfort only got worse.

"Emily, are you okay?" a voice cut through her thoughts. It was Sarah from the desk across from her, eyeing her with concern. Emily was pale and holding her stomach, her grip tight on the edge of the desk. She forced a weak smile. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just a little off today."

Sarah didn't look convinced. She leaned forward, studying Emily carefully. "You don't look okay," she said. "You're pale, and you've been quiet all morning. Maybe you should go to the clinic. Don't push yourself if you're not feeling well."

Before Emily could answer, another wave of nausea hit—stronger and more urgent. Her stomach turned, and a cold sweat broke across her forehead. She stood up quickly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. Without saying a word, she rushed to the restroom, hand over her mouth, trying to hold back the sickness. The office went quiet, heads turning as people watched her go. Whispers followed, but Emily didn't notice—her only focus was getting to the restroom in time.

She pushed through the door, heart pounding, breath shaky as she leaned over the sink, trying to steady herself. Everything else faded away as the nausea took over.

Down the hall, Ryan had just stepped out of a meeting when he saw her disappear into the restroom, clutching her stomach. Alarmed, he quickly apologized to his colleagues and walked briskly toward her. Worry tightened in his chest—was she sick? Did something happen?

At the door, he paused, unsure if he should go in. But when he heard the sound of her retching, his hesitation vanished. He knocked gently, voice low and full of concern. "Emily? Are you okay in there?"

There was no answer, but the sound of her being sick was enough to make Ryan's stomach turn. He gently pushed the door open and peeked inside. Emily was hunched over the sink, pale and sweaty, gripping the edges like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Her eyes, usually bright, were glassy with tears. When she looked at him, her expression was full of frustration and helplessness.

"Emily," he said softly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. "What's going on?" His voice was calm, but his worry was clear.

She shook her head, breathing hard. "I don't know," she whispered. "I've been feeling sick all morning. I thought it would pass, but it's getting worse." Another wave of nausea hit, and she turned back to the sink, shaking as she tried to hold it together.

Ryan moved closer and gently rested a hand on her back. "Let's go to the clinic," he said, voice firm but kind. "You shouldn't stay here like this. You need to see a doctor."

Emily shook her head. "I can't… I have too much to do—" But she couldn't finish. Another wave hit, and she leaned into the sink, gripping it tightly.

"Your health comes first," Ryan said, not giving her a chance to argue. He bent down and carefully lifted her into his arms. Emily gasped, instinctively wrapping her arms around his "Ryan, put me down!" she whispered, panicked. "Everyone's watching—"

"Let them," he said calmly, not slowing his pace as he carried her out of the restroom. The office fell silent the moment they stepped out. Conversations stopped, and heads turned as coworkers stared in surprise. But Ryan didn't react. He walked steadily, completely focused on Emily in his arms.

"Ryan, this is so embarrassing," she whispered, hiding her face against his shoulder, her cheeks burning. She could feel the eyes on them, hear the whispers starting—but Ryan held her firmly, his grip steady.

"Don't worry about them," he said, pressing the elevator button with his elbow. "You're not feeling well, and I'm taking care of you. That's all that matters." His voice was calm and sure, leaving no room for doubt.

As the elevator doors closed behind them, cutting off the stares, Emily let herself relax a little. Her head rested on his chest, and she listened to the steady beat of his heart. Whatever was going on, she knew one thing—Ryan was with her. And that gave her a bit of comfort, even in the middle of her fear and discomfort.

The elevator ride down to the lobby was quiet, the only sound the soft, mechanical hum of the machinery as it descended. Emily rested her head against Ryan's chest, her nausea momentarily eased by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, a comforting cadence that seemed to drown out the chaos of her thoughts. His arms held her securely, his warmth a soothing presence against the chill of her anxiety. 

She closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing, but her mind was a whirlwind of questions and fears. What was wrong with her? Why had she felt so sick? Ryan's hand gently stroked her back, his touch grounding her, and for a moment, she allowed herself to relax, to trust that he would take care of her, just as he always did.

When they reached the hospital, Ryan carried her inside, his steps purposeful but careful, as if she were something fragile and precious. He set her down gently in one of the chairs in the waiting area, his hands lingering on her shoulders for a moment as he made sure she was steady before turning to speak to the receptionist. His voice was calm but urgent as he explained the situation, his concern for Emily evident in every word. The receptionist nodded, quickly ushering them into an examination room, where a doctor greeted them with a kind smile and a reassuring demeanor.

The doctor saw Emily quickly, her movements efficient but gentle as she conducted a brief examination. She asked Emily a series of questions—about her symptoms, her medical history, her diet—before deciding to run some tests. 

Ryan stayed by Emily's side the entire time, his hand never leaving hers, his presence a constant source of comfort. He offered words of encouragement, his voice soft but steady, as the doctor drew blood and checked her vitals. Emily's mind raced with possibilities, each one more frightening than the last, but Ryan's calm demeanor helped to keep her grounded.

When the results came back, the doctor smiled warmly, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she looked at Emily and Ryan. "Well, it looks like you're not sick," she said, her tone light and reassuring. "You're pregnant."

Emily's eyes widened in shock, her heart skipping a beat as the words sank in. "Pregnant?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it out loud would make it more real. She glanced at Ryan, who looked equally stunned, his mouth slightly open as he processed the news. But then, slowly, a small smile began to form on his lips, his eyes lighting up with a mix of awe and joy.

The doctor nodded, her smile widening. "Yes. About six weeks along, from what we can tell. Congratulations."

Emily's mind raced, her thoughts a whirlwind of emotions—joy, fear, disbelief, and a thousand questions she didn't know how to ask. She looked down at her hands, which were still clasped tightly in Ryan's, and then back up at him. His smile had grown, his eyes shining with a mixture of excitement and wonder. "Pregnant," he said softly, as if testing the word on his tongue. "We're going to have a baby."

Emily didn't know what to say. A rush of joy filled her at the thought of building a life with Ryan, but it was quickly followed by fear and doubt. They hadn't used protection, and now the consequences of that choice were real. She wondered if either of them was truly ready. She had always pictured having kids someday—but not like this, not so suddenly, not when everything felt so uncertain. Her mind spun with thoughts of the future, and a lump formed in her throat as she tried to make sense of it all.

As they left the hospital, Ryan kept his arm around her, grounding her with his steady presence. The cool evening air brushed against her skin, but his warmth kept her close. She leaned into him, still trying to process everything. "Are you okay?" he asked gently when they reached the car, his eyes full of worry and love. His soft voice made her chest tighten in the most comforting way.

Emily nodded slowly, her thoughts a whirlwind she couldn't quiet. "I think so," she said softly. "It's just… a lot." Her mind was full of questions, fears, and emotions she hadn't figured out yet. The news weighed heavily on her, and though she tried to stay calm, everything felt overwhelming.

Ryan gave her a gentle smile, his eyes full of understanding. He reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. "I know," he said. "It's a lot for me too. But we'll figure it out—together. I'm with you."

His words steadied her, offering comfort in the middle of her confusion. But even with his support, the uncertainty lingered quietly in the back of her mind.

On the drive back to her place, the world outside blurred into streetlights and cars. But inside, Emily's thoughts stayed sharp and heavy. She couldn't stop wondering—would Ryan still be happy? Did he truly want this? Was she ready to be a mother? The questions circled over and over. She glanced at Ryan, calm and focused behind the wheel, and wondered if he could feel the storm quietly growing inside her.

When they got home, Ryan quietly took the lead, and it touched Emily more than she expected. He guided her inside with a steady hand, made her a cup of tea, and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders as she sat on the couch. The tea and warmth helped, but it was his calm presence that truly eased her.

"We don't have to figure everything out right now," he said gently. "But I want you to know I'm here. And I'm excited, Emily—excited to start a family with you."

His words caught her off guard. Tears filled her eyes, and before she could stop them, they began to fall. She looked at him, her voice shaking. "I'm scared," she admitted. "I don't know if I'm ready."

Ryan reached out and gently wiped the tears from her cheeks. "I'm scared too," he said softly. "But we'll figure it out together. One step at a time. And I'll be here, always."

His words calmed her, and she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. The warmth of his arm around her, the steady rhythm of his breathing—it made her feel safe. She still had doubts, still felt unsure about what lay ahead, but knowing Ryan was by her side made it all feel a little less overwhelming. They would face it together, and that was enough.