Nyla’s body started acting different again. Her chest felt tender. Her stomach turned at smells.
And her period didn’t come.
Nyla sat on the edge of the bathtub holding another test with shaking hands.
Two lines. Positive.
Again.
Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
Because it wasn’t excitement this time.
It was fear.
Nyla didn’t tell Terrence immediately. She kept it quiet, hoping she could get to the clinic first, hoping she could confirm everything before the Grant family turned it into a circus.
But Terrence had already started changing.
He stayed out late—not once, not twice, but three, four nights a week.
And when Nyla asked where he was, he didn’t answer with love.
He answered with irritation.
“Stop questioning me,” he snapped. “You act like my mother.”
Nyla wanted to laugh, because his mother was the reason he was like this.
Then came the night that shattered everything.
Terrence walked in wearing a new shirt, smelling like expensive cologne, confidence hanging off him like jewelry.
