February air in the city was neither too cold nor too warm, but for Noira Ashen Vale, every breath carried the weight of expectation. At twenty-four, she was nearing the end of her journey as a computer science major, specializing in intelligent systems. Her professors spoke of her with respect—bright, diligent, methodical. Her classmates envied her calm under pressure, her ability to adapt, her persistence. Graduation was weeks away, the moment she had envisioned since freshman year.
Yet life had unfolded differently. Beneath the neat lines of her notebooks and the glowing screens of her code, she carried another life inside her. She was pregnant—visibly so now—and with each passing day, the duality of her existence grew heavier. She was not only a student about to graduate, but a soon-to-be mother navigating an unfamiliar household.
Her in-laws' home was neat, structured, but laced with an air of quiet scrutiny. Every hallway seemed to echo with unspoken judgments, every dinner with subtle reminders of her position. Though polite words were exchanged, she could sense the tension beneath them, like a violin string pulled too tight, waiting to snap.
That morning, sunlight streamed through the windows, dust motes drifting in lazy spirals, but the atmosphere was far from light. Noira had been preparing for her graduation photoshoot. The long gown hung from a hook on the wardrobe door, the color deep and solemn, the cap perched beside it. She had been ironing her blouse for the pre-shoot formal shots when the voice of her sister-in-law cut through the stillness.
---
"Graduation is coming up soon, isn't it?" said Keon, the eldest of her husband's sisters. She stood at the doorway, arms crossed, her gaze fixed on the gown.
"Yes," Noira replied softly, setting the iron upright. Steam hissed into the air. "Next week. Today's the photoshoot."
Keon stepped inside, her eyes sharp but her smile faint, polite in a way that felt rehearsed. "It must feel strange. Finishing school while… expecting." She gestured vaguely toward Noira's stomach.
Noira's hand instinctively brushed against her bump, protective, almost defensive. "It feels challenging," she admitted. "But I'm determined to finish. I've worked too long for this."
Keon tilted her head. "Of course. No one doubts your determination." She paused, her tone sharpening as she added, "But have you thought about what comes after? Graduation is one thing. A baby is another. You can't have both a career in computing and…" She let the unfinished sentence linger, heavy with implication.
---
Noira folded her blouse carefully, her movements deliberate, as if they could shield her from the sting of those words. She had rehearsed this conversation in her mind many times, imagining the questions, the doubts, the criticisms. Yet facing them in real life still cut deeper than she wanted to admit.
"I plan to continue," she said quietly, her voice steady though her throat tightened. "I want to find work after graduation, something that fits my degree. Intelligent systems, software testing, maybe even research. The baby doesn't change that—it just means I'll work harder."
Althea let out a soft laugh, not unkind, but condescending. "You speak as if it's that simple. Companies don't wait for mothers. Technology doesn't slow down because you have to nurse a child. Don't you think it would be better to focus on one thing—family first, perhaps?"
The words lingered in the room like smoke.
---
Noira inhaled slowly, lifting her gaze to meet Keon's. Her dark eyes shimmered with restrained fire. "Family is important. But so is the life I've worked for. I want both. That's all I've ever wanted."
For a moment, silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant hum of traffic outside. Keon's expression softened briefly, almost sympathetic, but then hardened again. "You'll understand soon enough," she said, before turning and leaving the room.
The echo of her footsteps down the hall seemed louder than they should have been.
---
Noira sat down at the edge of the bed, her hands resting on her lap. The gown swayed slightly from its hook, a silent reminder of her journey. She thought back to the late nights in the computer lab, her fingers typing algorithms into existence, her mind weaving patterns of logic and code. She remembered how proud she had been when her thesis proposal on adaptive intelligent systems was accepted. She remembered the encouragement of her professors, the camaraderie of her classmates, the joy of solving problems that once felt impossible.
And now here she was—caught between the dream she had nurtured for years and the reality that unfolded too soon. She loved the life inside her. The child was not a mistake. But the world outside did not see it that way.
Her in-laws' home was a constant reminder of that. Their subtle remarks, their doubtful eyes, their attempts to mold her into someone who would fit neatly into their expectations. She wanted to believe that love and patience would win them over, but moments like this morning made her question everything.
---
The day moved forward, carrying her to the campus for her photoshoot. The sun was high by then, bright against the clean lines of the university buildings. Students milled around, some already in their gowns, laughter bubbling through the air. For a few hours, Noira felt almost like her old self again. She posed with friends, her smile genuine though it hid the weight she carried. The camera flashed, freezing moments she wanted to keep: her in her gown, her hand brushing against her rounded belly, her classmates cheering beside her.
"Congratulations in advance, Noira!" one of her classmates, Elezer, called out. He had always been kind, always quick to notice her strengths. "You're going to make a brilliant engineer. Or researcher. Or… honestly, whatever you decide."
She smiled at him, gratitude welling in her chest. "Thank you. That means more than you know."
They laughed together, and for a fleeting moment, the future felt possible again.
But as the photoshoot ended and she returned home, the tension awaited her like a storm gathering on the horizon.
---
That evening, as dinner was served, the family gathered around the long table. The clatter of utensils and the faint aroma of garlic rice filled the air. Conversations overlapped, but beneath them all, Noira sensed the undercurrent of watchfulness. She tried to focus on her plate, on the gentle movement of her child within her, on anything but the scrutiny of her in-laws.
It was Keon again who broke the calm. "So," she began, setting down her fork with deliberate precision, "Noira had her graduation photoshoot today. She's almost finished with school."
All eyes turned to her. Noira swallowed, forcing a smile. "Yes. Just a few more weeks until the ceremony."
"That's good," said her father-in-law, his voice deep but measured. "But Keon tells me you haven't decided what comes after. Have you considered staying home first? The baby will need you."
The room seemed to shrink, the walls pressing in. She felt her husband beside her shift uncomfortably but say nothing. Silence from him was nothing new.
"I want to work," she said, her voice firm despite the tremor in her chest. "I've studied for this degree for years. I don't want it to go to waste."
Her mother-in-law gave a small sigh, her lips pursed. "It's not about waste, dear. It's about priorities. Children come first. Everything else can wait. Besides, who will hire someone so… preoccupied?"
The words hit like stones. She bit her lip, struggling to keep her composure.
---
The conversation moved on, but the sting lingered. Noira ate quietly, her thoughts a whirl of anger, sorrow, and defiance. She glanced at her husband, hoping for a glance of support, but he kept his eyes on his food, his silence louder than any condemnation.
That night, as she lay awake staring at the ceiling, she placed a hand on her belly and whispered softly, "We'll get through this. You and me. I don't know how yet, but we will."
The child stirred faintly, as if answering her. And in that moment, though the shadows of tension gathered around her, she found a fragile thread of strength.