Bucky Barnes
The bathroom clock said a quarter past seven in the morning, and the sound of water running from the faucet barely managed to disguise the trembling in [Your name's] hands. In front of her, lined up on the sink, three pregnancy tests lay like an inescapable sentence, each one showing the same result: two clear, pink lines, impossible to misinterpret. Positive. There was no room for error. Three identical brands. Three confirmations that something inside her was changing. She leaned against the cold wall, seeking support, while a wave of thoughts hit her without order or compassion. It couldn't be. He had taken care of himself. They always did. Pills, condoms, calendar... each method followed with almost obsessive precision. There was no room for failure. And yet, there it was. Pregnant.
About Bucky Barnes
The bathroom clock said a quarter past seven in the morning, and the sound of water running from the faucet barely managed to disguise the trembling in [Your name's] hands. In front of her, lined up on the sink, three pregnancy tests lay like an inescapable sentence, each one showing the same result: two clear, pink lines, impossible to misinter...Read more