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Zayn and Rhys were sitting together on the couch, eating pizza and laughing over something ridiculous on the TV. The mood was light, almost carefree, until Rhys casually asked, “Zayn… when is Adric going back?”

Zayn paused mid-bite and looked at him with a raised brow. “Why?”

Rhys shrugged too quickly. “Just asking, you know…”

Zayn narrowed his eyes, smirking. “I don’t think it’s just asking. You’ve been weird since he came.”

“Shut up, Zayn,” Rhys muttered, clearly flustered.

“Then go ask him yourself. Why should I care where he goes or when?”

Zayn's tone was sharp, laced with something heavier. He leaned back against the couch, his head tilting upward, eyes on the ceiling as if trying to block out a thought.

“What happened?” Rhys asked softly.

Zayn shook his head. “Nothing. Just a little headache.”

“You should rest,” Rhys said gently, placing his half-eaten pizza slice down on the table.

They both turned their attention back to the TV, letting silence fall between them. But only a few minutes passed before Zayn suddenly sat up, his expression shifting, then bolted toward the bathroom. Rhys, alarmed, immediately followed.

“Zayn!” he called, but there was no reply.

He reached the bathroom and found Zayn bent over the sink, violently throwing up. His face was pale, forehead glistening with sweat. Rhys rushed to his side, holding his back, trying to keep him stable.

“Breathe, Zayn. It’s okay, I’ve got you…”

After a few agonizing minutes, Zayn finally pulled back from the sink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Rhys gently helped him to the bedroom and laid him down on the bed.

“Just lie down. You need rest.”

Rhys sat beside him, brushing hair from Zayn’s forehead, concern etching deeper into his expression.

“Zayn,” he said after a few quiet moments, “Can I ask you something?”

Zayn turned his face toward him, still slightly dazed. “Yeah?”

“I mean… during your heat. When you and Elior had sex… did you guys use protection?”

Zayn blinked, trying to recall. His brows furrowed as memories of their heated nights flooded back his hands in Elior’s hair, the desperate kisses, the feverish touches. But… no. They never used protection.

“No,” Zayn whispered, more to himself than to Rhys.

Rhys’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Zayn, are you mad?! It was your heat cycle!”

“I… I wasn’t thinking. We both weren’t. It just happened so fast and.”

“I told you so many times,” Rhys cut him off, frustration mixing with concern. “During your heat, you have to be careful. Especially you. You know how your cycles are!”

Zayn covered his face with his hands, groaning. “Why are you acting like I’m already pregnant?”

Rhys stared at him for a second before replying in a low voice, “Because you might be.”

Zayn’s heart dropped.

Everything around him seemed to still, the sound of the fan above, the muffled noise of the TV from the other room everything dulled.

“Shit…” Zayn whispered.

“We need to go to the hospital,” Rhys said, already standing up. “Now.”

“I don’t think so.”

“No, Zayn. Don’t argue with me. We’re going.”

Zayn didn’t protest further. He didn’t have the energy to. He simply nodded and dragged himself up, still shaky on his feet.

Rhys handed him a hoodie and waited while he slipped it on. Then, without another word, they left the apartment and headed for the hospital.

---

The ride was quiet. Zayn sat in the passenger seat, staring out of the window with a blank expression. Rhys occasionally glanced at him but didn’t say anything. The tension was thick, made heavier by uncertainty.

By the time they reached the hospital, Zayn’s nerves were on edge. The sterile smell, the cold lights, the beeping sounds it all made him nauseous again.

After explaining the situation to the receptionist, they were taken to a waiting area for omegas. Rhys sat close beside him, his hand gripping Zayn’s tighter than necessary.

“Are you scared?” Rhys asked softly.

Zayn didn’t look at him. “Yeah…”

“It’ll be okay,” Rhys said. “Whatever the result is… I’m here.”

Zayn nodded, but his stomach twisted painfully. He wasn’t sure he could handle the truth.

A nurse soon called Zayn in. Rhys squeezed his hand one last time before letting him go.

The check-up didn’t take long. Some routine questions, a few tests… and then the nurse smiled kindly.

“You’ll have the result in a few minutes. Just wait here.”

Zayn sat in the small room, his heart pounding louder with each second that passed. He kept telling himself it was fine, that maybe it was just stress, bad food, or something else. But deep down, a quiet voice whispered the truth he didn’t want to admit.

The nurse came back with a small tablet in her hand. She handed it to him, the screen already displaying the results.

Zayn’s eyes scanned the words, and everything blurred around him.

Pregnancy: Positive

He froze.

His throat tightened. He could barely breathe.

“Congratulations,” the nurse said gently, but her voice felt a thousand miles away.

Zayn handed the tablet back in silence, stood up, and walked out of the room. His legs were numb, the hallway too bright, too long. And then he saw Rhys standing up, his face full of concern.

“What happened?” Rhys asked.

Zayn didn’t speak.

He just looked at him, lips slightly parted, eyes wide with disbelief.

And then the tears came not loud or dramatic, just a quiet stream falling down his cheeks.

“Zayn…” Rhys stepped forward and pulled him into a hug.

“I’m pregnant,” Zayn finally whispered.

Rhys held him tighter.

---

Zayn sat quietly on the bed, his back resting against the headboard, his legs folded close to his chest. The white hospital paper still clung to his fingers. The word “Pregnant” kept echoing in his mind like a haunting lullaby. It was too loud to ignore now. No matter how much he tried to breathe and calm himself down, his heart refused to settle.

Rhys sat beside him on the edge of the bed, rubbing slow circles on his back.

“What do we do now?” Zayn asked in a low voice, barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know,” Rhys admitted honestly, “But… I think for now, you need to rest. Physically and emotionally. Just… lie down for a while, Zayn. Everything will be fine.”

Zayn gave a small nod. His body moved almost robotically as he adjusted his position on the bed. Rhys pulled the blanket over his legs and sat there for a while, not saying anything just offering silent support.

A few minutes passed before Rhys stepped out of the room to get some water, leaving Zayn alone with his racing thoughts.

Zayn looked down slowly and placed his hand gently over his lower abdomen. It didn’t show. Nothing had changed physically yet. But something was definitely different something deep inside him. A strange sensation bloomed in his chest, something fragile and foreign. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t confusion.

It was… warmth.

His fingertips pressed a little firmer, as if silently asking, Are you really there?

And somehow, in that silence, he felt it the answer.

He hadn’t planned this. God knows, he never imagined himself like this. He’d always thought he wasn’t the type to care about things like "family" or "normalcy." The trauma of his past, the ache of being ignored and neglected, had buried those dreams long ago.

But now…

Zayn let out a breath, and his eyes softened.

His thoughts shifted naturally to Elior.

That annoying, persistent, soft-hearted alpha who refused to let go. Who followed him around like a stubborn puppy for months. Who smiled every time Zayn was angry. Who kissed his forehead like it was something sacred.

Elior.

He was the father. There was no doubt about it.

And weirdly, instead of panic… Zayn felt comfort.

Then came the picture in his head: Elior and him, sitting on their couch, a warm room, laughter floating in the air. Zayn was lying on Elior’s lap, complaining about his back hurting. Elior rubbing his belly and whispering stupid things to the baby growing inside.

Zayn chuckled softly at the image. It felt ridiculous.

And yet… oddly comforting.

What if… they actually could live like that?

What if this wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to him?

He closed his eyes for a second and imagined a little version of himself… or Elior. Tiny feet, little hands, probably the most stubborn child in the world. Maybe with Elior’s eyes and Zayn’s hair. Maybe with neither just their own personality. Pure, chaotic joy.

Zayn opened his eyes slowly, the smile still clinging to his lips. His hand still rested over his belly. He whispered under his breath, “So… I guess it’s just you and me for now.”

There was still so much he didn’t know. So many questions. So many fears. Would Elior still want him after this? Would he be ready to handle it? What about college? What about his family if they ever found out?

But right now, in this room, in this quiet moment… Zayn let himself forget all that.

Right now, there was only one thing he knew with certainty.

He wasn’t alone anymore.

---

A while later, Rhys returned with water and found Zayn lying on his side, one hand under his head, the other still gently curled around his stomach.

“You okay?” Rhys asked, quietly placing the glass on the nightstand.

Zayn looked up, blinking out of his thoughts.

“I think so,” he replied.

Rhys sat back down beside him. “What were you thinking about?”

Zayn hesitated, then let out a short breath. “Elior.”

Rhys smiled knowingly. “You’re already thinking of telling him, huh?”

Zayn nodded slowly. “I was scared."

Rhys grinned. “i think you should tell him."

Zayn nodded. “hmm.”

“You love him,” Rhys teased, nudging his shoulder.

“I… love him Maybe. But I know he cares about me. He never judged me. Not once. Even when I was rude or when I ignored him.”

“He sees you, Zayn,” Rhys said softly. “He always did.”

Zayn looked down again. “I think… I want to tell him. Soon."

---

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