Amara Woods liked to have fun. She was an occasional party goer. She was a part of the leadership class and ran for class office every year.
Noah Ross was the same. He was ASB President and liked by everyone, even Amara...
...obviously, since they...
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I was officially in my second trimester. I was thirteen weeks and my belly had expanded a little bit more, not enough to really notice in a baggy shirt, but I could tell, Noah could tell, and when I sent Eden pictures, she could too.
I was still nauseous a lot of the time, although I hadn't thrown up for a little under a week. Still hungry often- which probably wouldn't go away. I wasn't sure how long I was supposed to keep my pregnancy a secret from my school and my classmates.
My mother and father had finally messaged me, asking if I could come over to the house to have a lengthy discussion about my future. Not the baby, my future. The baby was my future, that much I was sure of. But that probably wasn't what my mother wanted to hear.
After school one day, I drove over to the house I had grown up in my whole life and parked in my usual spot outside the garage. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to use my key, or knock. But luckily, by the time I made it to the door, Eloise was already opening the door and pulling me into a hug.
"I've missed you, Ames," she sighed into my hair.
I held her tighter. "Ellie, do you know what they want to talk about?" I ignored her statement, almost not believing it.
"Let's just go inside, okay? Let mom and dad talk to you," her voice shook but it wasn't with sadness.
She led me into the living room where my dad sat on the couch, knee bouncing up and down. He smiled when I came into his view and he stood, holding my face and kissing my forehead. "I missed you, sweetpea."
If they missed me so much, why didn't they contact me, why didn't they want to see me, make sure I was okay. If my baby was doing well.
"I missed you guys too, dad," I decided to say, because I had.
We all turned our heads when my mother walked into the living room from the backyard. "Amara," she nodded at me, swiftly sitting down on the couch. She patted the seat beside her and I made my way over.
We sat as a family in the living room, waiting for someone to break the silence. My father, always the negotiator, cleared his throat, lacing his hands together in front of him. "Tahira, would you like to start?"
My mother gave him a grimace, turning to face me. "I'm sorry, Amara. I'm sorry for the way I acted, spoke to you, and treated you a few weeks ago."
"You kicked me out of my home, mom," I was already feeling emotional. Baby hormones.
She nodded. "I did. I needed time to think everything over. It was wrong of me to do so without giving you any options, though. I regret it invariably." She nodded over at my father, wanting him to join in.
"Sweetpea, we don't agree with your choices. But we aren't going to ask you to do anything you wouldn't like. If your choice is still to raise this baby, we will support you," he had tears in his eyes, along with regret.
