"HAH… Guess all the test kits were right, after all. I. AM. FUCKING. PREGNANT!!!"
I muttered those beautiful, brain-melting words as I stared at the hospital report on my desk in the teacher's lounge.
That's right, at the teacher's lounge.
You'd think that after finding out I was accidentally, improbably, cosmically-punched-in-the-gut pregnant, I'd take the day off. Call in sick. Curl up in bed. Maybe cry into that stupid baguette-shaped pillow I bought during my French café aesthetic phase.
But no.
Apparently, just because I was hosting a human fetus like it was a goddamn Airbnb doesn't mean I get PTO.
So there I was—half-dead, caffeine-deprived (I had to switch to decaf, the betrayal), staring at hard medical proof that there was something with fingernails and a possible vendetta growing inside me. At school. At work. Where my hormonal teenagers think that Shakespeare is a TikTok influencer.
And then—like fate wanted to add more drama to the mix—
"What are you doing?"
The voice came from behind me like a whisper from the grave.
"AAAGHHHHH!!" I screamed so loudly I nearly flung myself out the window.
I turned and saw Giulia, my coworker, my friend, my colleague from hell. Somehow always appearing when I'm at my worst, like a cursed fairy godmother with a caffeine addiction.
"Can't you appear like a normal person for one damn day?!" I snapped, clutching the desk like a Victorian widow seeing a ghost.
She ignored my dramatic spiral completely and narrowed her eyes at the papers on my desk. MY desk. MY very top-secret, absolutely-NOT-for-prying-eyes hospital report desk.
"What's this?" she asked, already reaching for the report like we weren't living in a society with boundaries.
"This—this is nothing!" I shrieked, yanking it back with the reflexes of a raccoon protecting a trash bag.
"It's—it's just student rankings. You know our daily boring teacher things. Lots of data. Pie charts. Maybe some failure."
She stared at me like I'd just told her I was an undercover dolphin.
"Hmmm...you're not lying, right?"
I smiled. Awkward. Sweaty. Avoiding eye contact like it was an ex at the grocery store.
"It's really nothing, Lia. Absolutely unimportant. Trash. Student trash. You don't want to see it. It might give you hives."
". . ."
"Alright," She finally sat down, thank God, and said, "If you say so. I actually came to give you some good news."
Bless her. My whole body sagged in relief. I sank into my chair like a melting snowman.
"Oh? What kind of good ne—"
And then the report.
The report that I had just snatched like a gremlin from her hands.
That report slipped from my fingers in slow motion, like the most tragic scene in an Oscar-winning war film.
Fwip.
Flutter.
Thud.
It landed at Giulia's feet like the bastard it was.
My brain froze.
Loading.
404: Composure Not Found.
And then—
"AAAHHHH—LIA! GIVE ME THAT!" I lunged, but she was fast. Like, Olympic-level dodgeball champion fast.
She grabbed it before I could, held it out of reach like she was taunting a short child, and squinted at it dramatically.
"You've been acting so weird since morning," she said. "I knew something was up. Let's see what this is—"
Oh no.
Oh no no no no.
Her eyes scanned the paper. Her mouth opened.
Time stopped.
"YOU'RE PREG—"
I tackled her.
Well, more like I slapped a desperate hand over her mouth like a panicked soap opera lead.
"PLEASE. Please. For the love of everything holy—keep your voice down!" I hissed, looking around in sheer paranoia.
The staffroom was empty.
But I wasn't taking any chances. Someone could walk in. A student. The principal. Jesus, himself, with a clipboard and a paternity test.
Giulia slowly pulled back from my hand like I was some kind of drama llama with rabies. She stared at me. Processing. Calculating. Probably buffering.
Then, she went calm and asked, "…Elio. You're pregnant, for real?"
I nodded. Solemnly. Like I'd just been caught hiding a war crime.
"Yes."
A pause. A deep, suspicious pause. Then she blinked.
"I see. I never knew you had a boyfriend."
She folded her arms like she was about to interrogate me under a spotlight. "Do I know him? I am so disappointed you didn't tell me. Does Rocco know about this boyfriend?"
And that was it.
That was the moment the floor of the universe cracked open, swallowed my pride whole, and burped out despair.
I went silent.
The air in the staff room grew thick. Cold. Stuffed with impending doom. Like someone had stuffed awkward tension in a slow cooker and set it to "ruin your life."
"…Why aren't you saying anything?" She narrowed her eyes.
I avoided her gaze like it was a tax audit.
"Well… you see…" I scratched the back of my neck and gave the floor an Oscar-worthy stare. "…I don't have a boyfriend."
Silence. Again.
Dead, judgmental silence.
"You're saying…" she said slowly, her voice dropping an octave. "…you don't have a boyfriend?"
I nodded.
"And you're pregnant?"
I nodded again, solemn like a monk. Still refusing to look her in the eyes, like they might shoot lasers.
She stared at me like her last three brain cells had just evaporated.
And then—
"DON'T TELL ME YOU HAD A ONE-NIGHT STAND?!"
She shrieked it. She absolutely shrieked it like we weren't in a workplace. Like we weren't paid professionals with salaries and reputations and very real evaluations from HR.
My soul tried to leave my body.
I laughed nervously. The kind of laugh you do when a judge asks if you understand the charges.
"Hahaha… y-you… hit the nail there." I gave her a weak thumbs-up like an idiot on fire.
Her entire face drained of color.
"ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE?! HOW THE HELL—WHEN—WHERE—WITH WHO—"
I lunged again. Covered her mouth before she could list the continents and time zones.
And that's when I saw it.
Little heads.
Two. No, three.
Teenagers.
Students.
Peeking through the glass window of the door like raccoons at a buffet. Wide-eyed. Phones in hand. Definitely recording.
"Please...," I hissed through gritted teeth. "We need to go somewhere else. Right now."
Giulia mumbled something against my palm.
I yanked my hand away, grabbed the hospital report (again—seriously, this thing needed a leash), and hauled her out of the staffroom like a burglar dragging an unwilling accomplice.
"Where are we going?!" she whispered-yelled as we power-walked down the hall like fugitives.
"The basement, I muttered.
"WHY THE HELL WOULD WE GO TO THE BASEMENT—"
"Because it's soundproof and nobody likes to go down there since the rats took over the vending machine corner!"
"OH FOR—Elio, I swear to God, if I get tetanus over your accidental pregnancy—"
"Shut up and walk faster!"
***
LATER, IN THE BASEMENT...
The basement smelled like damp walls, broken dreams, and vending machine snacks that expired three years ago. Probably the rats' version of a Michelin-star buffet.
Giulia folded her arms, eyes narrowed, and began tapping her foot on the cracked tile. Possibly right above a rat rave.
"So... who's the father?" she asked, dead serious.
Then her brain caught up with her mouth.
"Oh. Right. Damn it. It was a one-night stand. Of course you don't know who the father would be, right?"
I nodded sheepishly like a kid caught eating paste.
Her eye twitched.
And then—WHACK.
She smacked my shoulder with the strength of a woman who once bench-pressed a full cooler during Sports Day.
"THEN AT LEAST—TRY TO RECALL, YOU BASTARD!!"
"OW!" I groaned, clutching my arm. "Okay, okay, fine! I don't remember much, but—I do remember one thing."
Immediately, her entire body shifted. Like a mother hen who just realized her chick might've found a sugar daddy.
"What?! You know where he works? Did he leave a business card? A tattoo? A monogrammed wallet? ANYTHING?"
I grinned like an absolute moron. The kind of grin that should come with a warning label.
"It was a great, satisfying night." I nodded proudly, a little pink in the face. "He was so hot. Great body. And that voice? Deep. Like melt-your-brain-and-pants-at-the-same-time deep."
"..."Giulia stared at me.
"..."
Still stared.
"Is that something you need to be proud of right now, Elio?" she said, face twitching with repressed rage.
"What? It's not like one-night stands come with PowerPoint presentations on their backstories!" I huffed. "People don't just share personal information when they're…you know…busy!"
She dragged her hand down her face like she was physically trying to wipe away my stupidity.
"Elio. Do you even understand the gravity of this situation?"Her voice dropped an octave. "You're pregnant. With a mystery man's child. You have no name. No contact. No way of tracking him. This isn't a freaking hookup story on Reddit. This is your life. YOUR. ACTUAL. LIFE."
I blinked. Thought for a moment.
Then smiled again.
"Well…it was a really nice night."
Giulia made a sound. A sound somewhere between a shriek, a sob, and an animal being punched in the soul.
She looked five seconds away from kicking over a mop bucket.
"Seriously…" she groaned. "I need a drink. A week-long vacation. And possibly a new best friend."
"Don't be dramatic. This is fine. I'm fine. WE'RE FINE."
A piece of ceiling tile fell next to us.
We stared at it.
"…It's a sign," Giulia whispered. "God is disappointed in you."
I stayed quiet.
Giulia let out a long sigh and said, "Let's go out and talk. You can't stay down here for long. It's not good for your fucking health."
I nodded, and we walked out of the basement.
The second we stepped into the hallway, a huge banner caught my eye — glossy, bold, and obnoxiously large. A banner of famous italian celebrity...
Bastein Chevaliar.
"Huh? Why is there a celebrity banner at our school?"
Giulia followed my gaze and rolled her eyes. "That's the good news I wanted to tell you. Bastien Chevalier is coming to our school."
My jaw dropped. "At our school?"
She nodded. "Apparently, the school is hosting a fan signing event next week for his fans."
"I see…" I mumbled, staring at the handsome face on the banner. It wasn't shocking—our school had a habit of hosting random events like this.
But then my eyes locked onto his smirking expression… and suddenly, my mind flashed back to that night.
Don't worry, I'll be gentle.
My cheeks burned.
Wh...what! Why—why did those words come back to me the moment I saw Bastien Chevalier's face?
No. No. I must be losing my mind.
…It's because of the pregnancy.
Right?