Chapter 94
Christian’s POV
Zoey kept her gaze fixed on her hands for a few seconds, as if gathering courage. Finally, she lifted her eyes to meet mine.
“I think so,” she whispered, moving toward the bathroom. “You’re right. We need to know.”
I picked up the test from the counter, glancing over the instructions printed on the box. It looked simple enough. I handed it to her, then stepped back toward the door.
“I’ll wait outside,” I offered, assuming she’d want privacy.
“No.” Her response was quick, almost desperate. “I mean… I’d rather you stay. If you don’t mind.”
The vulnerability in her eyes caught me off guard.
“Of course.” I tried to sound casual, as if watching my marriage-of-convenience wife take a pregnancy test was the most normal thing in the world. “I’ll stay.”
I turned my back while she used the test, granting at least that small concession to her privacy. The silence in the bathroom was oppressive, broken only by the sound of our breathing and the ticking of the watch on my wrist.
“Now we wait,” she said at last. When I turned, Zoey had already placed the test on the counter.
“How long?” I asked, staring at the little plastic object that seemed to hold the power to completely redefine our lives.
“Three minutes,” she said, checking the instructions. “It says here one line means negative, two lines…’
She didn’t finish, but she didn’t need to. We both knew very well what two lines meant.
Three minutes. One hundred and eighty seconds that dragged like hours. Zoey leaned against the opposite wall, her arms crossed in a defensive posture. I stayed by the door, torn between wanting to go to her and fearing that might only make the moment heavier.
“Where’s Annabelle?” I asked, just to break the silence.
“Probably with Marcus.” Zoey forced a small smile. “They’re… getting along.”
“I’ve noticed.” I smiled back, trying to ease the tension. “Marcus seems different. Almost responsible. It’s a little unsettling, honestly.”
That drew a short laugh from Zoey, the sound briefly cutting through the heavy atmosphere of the bathroom.
“Annie has that effect on people. She’s chaos, but somehow, she organizes everyone else’s chaos.”
Silence fell again, growing heavier with each passing second.
“You know…” I began, the words slipping out before I could stop them. “If it’s positive, it wouldn’t be the end of the world.”
Zoey’s eyes widened slightly, surprised.
I tried to picture it-some tiny version of Zoey, with those same expressive eyes, maybe with my reluctant smile. The image came to me with startling clarity, stirring a mix of fear and fascination I never would’ve expected to feel.
“Imagine a mini-Zoey running around the vineyards,” I went on, my attempt at humor sounding forced even to my own ears. “Turning ruined dresses into works of art, puking on the shoes of people who deserve it.”
The comment was ridiculous, wildly inappropriate for the tension of the moment-and yet, maybe because of that, it worked. Zoey let out a genuine laugh, her shoulders visibly relaxing.
“You’re trying to make me laugh at a time like this?”
“I’m trying.” I shrugged, allowing myself a smile. “I’m not very good at it.”
“It’s terrible.” She smiled back, shaking her head. “But I appreciate the effort.”
I checked my watch. Two minutes had already passed.
“Sixty seconds,” I murmured, more to myself than to her.
Zoey took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, there was a new determination in them.
“Whatever the result, we’ll handle it,” she said, her voice steadier than I expected. “Right?”
“Right.” I nodded, trying to project a confidence I didn’t fully feel.

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