It had been three weeks since the incident.
Everything seemed to have gone back to normal—except for Bree. She hadn't been the same.
Bree and Avery had both gotten jobs at
Columbia University Living Medical Centre as nutritionists. Their first day was Monday.
Because of all that had happened recently, they hadn't yet visited Avery's parents. So they decided that after their first day at work, they'd stop by for dinner.
Monday Morning
The sound of the alarm jolted Bree awake. Groggily, she reached for her phone and turned it off.
A wave of nausea hit her.
Her stomach churned uncomfortably, and she rushed to the conclusion—it must be indigestion from last night's dinner. She ignored it.
She sat up and stretched, then glanced at the other side of the bed. Avery was still asleep.
"Avery, wake up! We can't be late on our first day," Bree said, tapping her lightly.
"I'm up, Bree, stop—" Avery cut herself off when she heard footsteps rushing toward the bathroom.
Her eyes flew open. She jumped out of bed and followed the sound, only to find the bathroom door open.
Bree was kneeling in front of the toilet, vomiting.
"Oh my God, Bree." Avery knelt beside her, gently rubbing her back. "Just breathe. You'll be okay."
When Bree finished, she moved to the sink, rinsed her mouth, and stared at her reflection in the mirror—pale, tired, and fragile.
"If you can't go to work today, it's fine," Avery said. "I'll explain to them."
"No. I'm fine. It's just indigestion," Bree insisted.
"Are you sure? Because—"
"Avery, I said I'm fine," Bree snapped, eyes still on the mirror.
Avery paused, then nodded slowly. "Okay."
She left the bathroom quietly, but her mind raced.
This had been happening for a week now. Bree had been eating more than usual, her moods were unpredictable, and the nausea was getting worse. Every time Avery brought up going to the hospital, Bree brushed it off.
In the bathroom, Bree still stared at her reflection.
She knew.
Her body had been giving her signs, but she wasn't ready to admit it. Not yet.
Not until I'm sure.
She shook her head, took a quick shower, brushed her teeth, and walked out in her bathrobe.
"You can go in now," she told Avery softly.
Avery entered the bathroom while Bree dressed.
A few minutes later, they were both ready. They dressed simply, planning to change into their medical wear once they arrived at work.
They grabbed their bags and headed to the living room. A quick bowl of cereal was all they had time for before jumping into Avery's car.
At Work
Their first day at Columbia University Living Medical Centre turned out better than expected.
The staff were welcoming, the environment was clean and calm, and their department head was surprisingly friendly—unlike the typical strict, condescending supervisors they had imagined.
By the time they left work, it was already 8:00 PM. They headed straight to Avery's parents' house.
When they arrived, Avery parked carefully and both of them stepped out, walking to the door.
Avery rang the doorbell.
Moments later, the door opened to reveal Mrs. Thomas, beaming with joy.
"Oh my goodness! My angels! Come in, come in," she said, pulling them into a warm hug.
They walked inside and sat on the living room couch.
"My darlings, how have you been? I missed you girls so much."
"We missed you too," Bree and Avery chorused.
"Where's Dad?" Avery asked.
They heard footsteps descending the stairs.
"Dad!" Avery exclaimed, rushing into his arms.
"Darling," he smiled, hugging her. "How've you been? Where's Bree?"
"Good evening, Mr. Thomas," Bree said, standing respectfully.
"Bree! Come here." He pulled her into a warm hug. "How are you, dear?"
"I'm fine, sir."
"Girls," Mrs. Thomas called from the kitchen. "Come help me set the table."
Bree and Avery followed her, helping arrange plates, utensils, and food on the dining table.
"Dad, dinner's ready!" Avery called.
They all sat down and made a short prayer before eating.
"Bree, what have you been eating lately?" Mrs. Thomas asked playfully. "You look a little… chubby."
"Really? I didn't notice," Bree replied with a light laugh.
"I made fish soup. Try it," Mrs. Thomas said, lifting the lid from the pot.
The moment the aroma hit her, Bree turned pale. Her stomach churned.
She stood up abruptly and bolted upstairs.
She barely made it to Avery's bathroom before vomiting everything she had eaten.
"Bree? Are you okay?" Avery asked gently, stepping inside.
"I… I don't know what's wrong with me," Bree whispered as tears filled her eyes.
"It's okay," Avery said softly, wrapping her arm around her. "Just wash your face. Let's go back downstairs. When we get home, we'll figure it out, okay?"
Bree nodded weakly.
Back at the dining table, Avery covered the fish soup and picked up the pot.
"Since Bree can't eat this, I'll just keep it in the fridge for tomorrow," she said, heading to the kitchen.
When she returned, she gave Bree a reassuring smile.
"What's going on, Bree? Are you sick?" Mrs. Thomas asked with concern.
"No, ma'am. I think I ate something bad last night. Just indigestion," Bree said with a strained smile.
"Oh dear. Try eating some fruits later. It'll help," Mrs. Thomas offered.
"I will. When we get home."
"Why don't you girls sleep over?" Mr. Thomas suggested.
"We would've loved to," Avery said sweetly. "But we have work tomorrow, and there are some things we still need to do tonight. But next time, we'll definitely stay over."
"If you say so," he smiled.
After dinner, they helped clean up and said their goodbyes.
Back Home
They got home a little past 10 PM. Avery parked the car and they both headed inside.
As they entered the bedroom, Avery said, "I need to get something. I'll be right back."
Bree nodded and lay on the bed.
Avery quickly walked to the nearest pharmacy down the street.
She stepped in and greeted the pharmacist.
"Wassup, John?"
"Avery? What are you doing here this late?" John asked playfully.
"I came to assassinate you," she said with a smirk.
They both laughed.
"Just kidding. I need two pregnancy test strips."
John blinked in surprise.
"Don't ask," she said before he could open his mouth.
He disappeared into the shelves and returned with a bag containing two strips.
"Thanks, John," she said, handing him cash.
"Good night."
"You too."
Back at the apartment, Avery entered the room to find Bree still sitting on the bed.
She walked over and handed her the bag.
"What's this?" Bree asked as she opened it. Her eyes widened when she saw the strips.
"Avery… why did you buy these? I don't need them."
"Bree," Avery said gently, "we both know this isn't just indigestion. Please. Just try them—if the results are mixed, we'll go see a doctor tomorrow. No pressure. But we need to know."
"No, I'm fine, I promise. It'll pass by tomor—"
"Bree." Avery cut her off, her voice trembling. "Please. Whatever the results are, I'll be here for you. But if you want me to stop worrying, just take the test."
Bree hesitated, then slowly nodded.
She stood up and entered the bathroom.
Avery sat on the bed, waiting—nervous, scared.
Inside the bathroom, Bree opened both strips with shaking hands.
"I can do this," she whispered.
She sat down, used the strips, and laid them on the sink to wait.
She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.
Two minutes later...
She picked up both tests and held them against her chest, eyes still shut.
10… 9… 8… 7… 6… 5… 4… 3… 2… 1...
She opened her eyes.
The moment she saw the results, her knees buckled, and she slid down the wall, tears spilling freely.
Avery, concerned by the silence, rushed to the bathroom.
She pushed the door open—and froze.
Bree was on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.
She didn't need to ask what the result was.
She already knew.