Positive - Long

I don't know how long I've been sitting here.

The little white test is still on the bathroom counter, turned face-up like it might change if I look at it long enough. But the answer is still the same.

Positive.

My stomach twists. My hands feel unsteady.

I should be happy. Or excited. Or something other than this tight, overwhelming knot of fear in my chest.

Luigi is in the other room. I can hear him moving around, the sound of a cabinet opening, the faint hum of him thinking aloud.

I should go to him. I should say something.

But when I stand, my legs feel weak. I press my hands to the sink, staring at my reflection.

And then—before I can second-guess myself—I open the door.

Luigi glances up the second I step into the room. He's leaned against the counter, a glass of water in his hand, his curls still a little damp from the shower.

He takes one look at me and stills.

"Honey?" His voice is soft, questioning. "You okay?"

I open my mouth, but the words don't come. I just look at him, and my vision blurs a little, my throat tightening.

I must look scared, because in less than a second, he's in front of me, setting the glass down, his hands finding my arms.

"Hey," he murmurs, ducking slightly to meet my eyes. "Talk to me."

I swallow. "I—" My voice catches. I take a shaky breath, then just say it.

"I'm pregnant."

The words settle between us, quiet and fragile.

For a second, he doesn't move.

And then—slowly, carefully—his hands slip down to mine.

"Okay," he says. Not shocked. Not panicked. Just okay.

I let out a breath, my heart still racing. "Lu, I—" I shake my head, my grip tightening in his. "I don't know what to do."

He studies me, his expression unreadable for just a moment. Then, his hands squeeze mine—gentle but firm.

"Baby," he says softly, "come here."

Before I can protest, he pulls me in—warm, steady arms wrapping around me, holding me close. I feel his heartbeat, solid beneath my cheek. His hand comes up to the back of my head, fingers threading gently through my hair.

"It's okay," he murmurs. "We're okay."

I close my eyes, gripping onto him like he's the only thing keeping me upright.

His voice is low, reassuring, spoken just against my temple.

"I know it's scary," he says. "But we'll figure it out. You're not alone in this. I promise you, Y/N—we're gonna be okay."

And for the first time since I saw that little pink line... I believe him.