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"Bullshit." She dropped into the chair across from me. "You've canceled our lunch three times this week, you look like you're about to either throw up or pass out, and you've been wearing the same mascara for two days straight." She leaned forward.

"That's not tired, Sav. That's a crisis."

The directness—so typical of Zoe, so desperately needed in this moment—cracked something in my carefully maintained façade.

"I'm pregnant," I whispered, the first time I'd said the words aloud.

Her eyes widened, genuine shock replacing her usual sardonic expression. "Holy shit. Are you sure?"

"Three tests. All positive." I ran my hands through my hair.

"And every symptom in the book—missed period, nausea, exhaustion. I can smell everything within a five-mile radius. Lucas's cologne made me gag this morning."

"Wow." She leaned back, absorbing this information.

"So... how do we feel about this? Happy? Terrified? Homicidal toward a certain silver-haired CEO?"

A laugh escaped me, half-hysteria, half-relief at finally sharing the secret.

"All of the above? None of the above? I don't know, Zoe. I haven't processed it yet."

"Does Lucas know?"

I shook my head. "I just found out this morning."

"And you're going to tell him...when?"

"I don't know." I pressed my fingers to my temples, where a headache had been building all day.

"Tonight. Tomorrow. After I figure out what I want."

Zoe's expression softened with rare gentleness. "What are you afraid of, Sav? That he won't want it? Because I've seen how that man looks at you. He'd probably build a nursery made of solid gold by tomorrow if you told him."

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of." The words burst from me with surprising force.

"His... certainty. His control. His ability to make decisions without doubt or hesitation."

"While you're drowning in both?"

"Yes." I stood, unable to remain still, pacing the length of my office.

"A baby changes everything, Zoe. Everything we've built—this delicate balance between his world and mine, his need for control and my need for independence—a child explodes all of it."

"Or consolidates it," she suggested.

"Makes it permanent in ways you've been avoiding."

I stopped, staring at her. "What does that mean?"

"It means you're still keeping one foot out the door, babe." Her tone was gentle but unflinching.

"Still maintaining your separate apartment even though you haven't slept there for a while and are fully living with Lucas. Still insisting on that professional distance even though everyone knows you're together. Still afraid to fully commit to the life you're already living."

The accuracy of her assessment hit like a physical blow. "That's not fair," I protested weakly.

"Isn't it?" She stood, moving to where I'd frozen in place. "Why are you really scared, Savannah? Because it's not about Lucas's reaction. It's about something deeper."

The question pierced through my defenses, targeting the fear I'd been circling all day without confronting it directly.