The bathroom is wrapped in a silence so deep it feels like the world has forgotten this room exists. I stand before the mirror, my reflection staring back at me with a quiet intensity. I don't know how long I've been standing here, staring at myself.
The oversized shirt hangs loosely from my shoulders, draping down in soft folds. But even its generous cut cannot fully hide what is growing beneath it.
My belly is changing.
It's not the dramatic swell of an Omega's pregnancy. Dr. Alan said it would be different for me—I'm an S-Class Alpha. Subtle. Controlled. But the bump is there, round and firm.
I don't look away. My hand rises on its own, pressing gently against the curve of my stomach. The fabric shifts, and I feel the warmth of my own skin beneath it. The bump is solid, real—a quiet proof of something I still struggle to fully believe.
A life. A future. Something that was never part of my plan, yet here it is, growing inside me with every passing day.
