Chapter 17 - Maisie

It’s too early. Why am I awake?

It’s the kind of early where the world is still hushed, as if waiting for something to happen. I must have hardly slept; it’s not even first light yet. But the quiet around me isn’t peaceful. My body senses this somehow—it feels heavy, like the silence before a storm.

I sit up slowly, the sheets tangled around my legs. The room materializes out of the darkness as my eyes adjust.

It hits me all at once: my head spins, and my stomach lurches almost immediately. For the third time this week, I feel the faintness hit me like a wave, my vision blurring as the edges of the room swim out of focus.

I press a hand to my chest, willing the dizziness to pass, but it only gets worse.

No. Not again.

The nausea rises hard and fast, and I barely make it to the ensuite in time. Kneeling over the toilet, I retch, my stomach heaving violently until there’s nothing left but bile.

I grip the edge of the sink for support, the cool porcelain grounding me as my breath comes in short, shallow gasps. My eyes water; I’m almost sobbing.

The condo is quiet, eerily so, the walls closing in like a living thing. Even the echo of my uneven breathing is too loud. Usually, I find some small comfort in the silence, but now it feels oppressive. The knowledge that Zane isn’t coming, that I’m completely alone, only amplifies the isolation.

He almost certainly hasn’t been awake to hear me throwing up for these last few days, or so I try to tell myself.

He probably wouldn’t come anyway.

I sit back on my heels, wiping the back of my hand across my mouth. The sour taste of bile lingers in my throat, and my hands tremble slightly as I reach for the towel hanging by the sink. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, at my pale, drawn face, the dark circles under my eyes. I don’t recognize myself.

Something’s wrong. Deep down, I know it.

I’ve known it for days.

I pick up my phone from the counter, my fingers clumsy as I unlock it and scroll through my contacts as I lean against the cool side of the tub and breathe slowly through my mouth. My body feels so weak.

Olivia. She’ll know what to do. She always does.

I shoot her a quick text, my hands shaking too much to even punctuate it properly:

Feeling sick again. Thinking of going to the pharmacy when it opens for nausea pills.

Not even two minutes pass before my phone buzzes with her response, then buzzes again insistently. She’s calling me.

I answer immediately, my voice croaky, barely above a whisper.

“Liv, why are you awake already? It’s five in the morning…”

“You’re still feeling faint?” Olivia’s voice is sharp with concern. I can hear her moving around, probably already gathering information or pacing around the kitchen of her and Byron’s apartment like she does when she’s worried.

“Yeah,” I manage, my throat raw. “I’ve thrown up three times this week. I don’t—”

My voice breaks, and I stop, squeezing my eyes shut against the tears that want to come.

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. Olivia inhales deeply, then speaks, her tone gentle but firm.

“Maisie, listen to me. You need to take a pregnancy test.”

Her words hit me like a slap. I blink, trying to process, my mind struggling to catch up.

“A... pregnancy test?” I repeat, stupidly.

“Yes,” she says, her voice quiet but steady. “There should be one among the medical supplies in the condo. They stock those things in case of emergencies, and... well, I think this counts.”

My heart stutters in my chest, a sudden rush of panic tightening my throat. Pregnant? No. That can’t be right. It’s impossible. Isn’t it? My mind scrambles, flipping through a mental calendar, trying to remember the last time I had my period.

But it’s a blur. This past month has been a miasma of missions and pretending, of playing the role of Zane’s loving fiancée, of ignoring the heat between us because it was easier than dealing with the mess that followed.

I realize it with a cold swoop of anxiety; I missed my period two weeks ago. It never came, and somehow, I didn’t notice.

My stomach twists again, but this time, it’s not from nausea. It’s from fear.

“Liv,” I whisper, my voice shaking. “What if... what if I am?”

There’s a pause, and then Olivia speaks, her voice softer now. “Maisie, whatever happens, we’ll figure this out. But first, you need to know for sure. Can you find the test?”

I nod, even though she can’t see me.

“I’ll call you back,” I promise.

My hands are still trembling as I set the phone down and head into the small bathroom cabinet, digging through the neatly organized shelves. I find the medical kit quickly, pulling out its contents until I spot the small pink box.

My heart is pounding. I still feel cold all over, like I’ve been doused in ice water. I look down at my hands and see that even my fingertips are pale.

I open the box with shaky fingers, my breath coming in shallow, uneven bursts.

It’s just a test, I tell myself. Just a stupid little test. I loved tests in school. I can handle this.

I follow the instructions mechanically, my body moving on autopilot as I take the test and set it down on the counter. Then I wait, staring at the tiny white stick, my pulse racing in time with the seconds ticking by.

The condo is so silent I can hear every breath, every rustle of fabric, every faint creak of the floorboards beneath my feet. It feels like the walls are watching me, holding their breath alongside mine.

Three minutes. That’s how long I have to wait.

But those minutes stretch on for what feels like hours, each second dragging out painfully as I stand there, gripping the edge of the sink until my knuckles turn white.

When the timer finally goes off, I force myself to look down at the test.

Two lines. Clear as day.

Positive.

I stare at it, my mind going blank, everything around me suddenly fading to white noise. The world seems to tilt beneath my feet.

I sink to the floor, clutching the test in my hands, my breath coming in short, panicked gasps. My vision blackens at the corners. I press a hand to my chest, trying to calm my racing heart, but it’s no use.

I’m pregnant.

I’m pregnant.

The room spins faster and faster, lurching around me, and I press my forehead against the cool tile of the bathroom floor, trying to ground myself.

The reality of my situation feels like it might demolish me. This isn’t just some mistake I can walk away from. This isn’t something I can pretend doesn’t exist, like the kiss, like the time we spent in his bed. This is real, and it’s happening, and I don’t know what to do.

Tears burn at the back of my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. I can’t. I need to keep it together. I need to think. But the fear, the uncertainty… it’s all too much. It fills every corner of my mind, pushing out any sense of control I have left.

And Zane. What the hell am I going to do about Zane?

I press the back of my hand to my mouth, stifling a sob as the reality of it all crashes down around me. My fingers are numb as I stare at my phone on the floor beside me, the test still clutched in my hand like a lifeline, though it feels more like a curse.

If I don’t speak to someone right now, I’ll have an anxiety attack.

I press the button to call Olivia back, but I can’t bring myself to speak right away. The line connects after barely a single ring.

"...Maisie?"

Her voice is soft. I can already hear the questions brimming inside her, waiting to spill out.

I don’t know what to say. I’m not certain I can speak at all, so I just breathe into the phone for a moment, trying to steady myself, but it comes out too ragged.

A small sob escapes my lips before I can stop it.

"Maisie, talk to me," Olivia presses, her voice more urgent now.

"I..." My voice cracks, my chest tight. I squeeze my eyes shut and let the tears spill over, my breath hitching. "L-Liv, it’s positive. I’m pregnant."

There’s a pause, a beat of silence on her end. I can hear her sharp intake of breath, but she recovers quickly.

“Oh, Honey…” Olivia’s voice is low, soothing, like she’s trying to reach through the phone to hold me. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay. I promise.”

My head drops into my hand, the sobs rising up harder now. I clutch the phone tighter, trying to hold onto her words.

“I don’t know what to do,” I manage, my voice trembling. “I’m so scared.”

“I know you are.” Olivia’s voice remains calm and steady, the way it always is when she’s in crisis mode. “But listen to me, Maisie. You don’t have to make any decisions right now. You’re in shock. Take a breath. All you have to do is breathe.”

“But Zane…” I whisper, the heaviness of his name dragging at me, pulling me down. I wipe my face with the back of my hand, trying to focus. “What if he doesn’t… want this? What if he doesn’t want me? What if I don’t want him?”

Olivia pauses for a moment, considering her words carefully. I can sense her hesitation.

She’s always been cautious when it comes to Zane. She’s never said it outright, but I know she’s wary of him and how complicated our relationship has become.

"Maisie," she says, and her voice is firmer now, edged with surety. "I can’t tell you what Zane will do or how he’ll react if and when you choose to tell him. That’s something only you can figure out, and only you can decide how to deal with it. But I’ll say this—he deserves to know. No matter what’s happened between you, he deserves to know eventually.”

I swallow hard, my throat burning. "But what if he doesn’t want this baby?"

Olivia’s voice softens. "Then that’s his loss, Maisie. And I’ll be here for you, no matter what you decide, and so will the rest of us. But only you can decide who you want to know, and when, and eventually… who you want around this baby.”

This baby. I put my hand to my stomach. A baby—a real, tiny person. It makes me start to cry all over again.

She helps me breathe as I sob ferociously, my voice wet with sobs as I struggle to hold myself together.

“What do I even say to him?” I ask through my weeping. “We don’t… we don’t even talk anymore. It’s all just the job, the missions, pretending we’re in love, but we’re not, and he doesn’t love me, he can’t love me.”

A bitter laugh escapes me, but it tastes wrong. Hollow.

Because that’s not the whole truth, is it?

He loved me as he looked down at me that night. Even if it was for a single moment, I know he loved me. I know it like I know I’m alive.

Olivia hesitates again, and I can tell she’s holding something back.

“Maisie, I know it’s complicated,” she says once I calm slightly. “I’ve seen how you two are around each other. But I also know that you can’t trust yet that Zane isn’t the type of guy to walk away from something this big. You have to trust your instincts. You’ll know what to do when the time is right.”

The truth of her words settles in me, but I still feel lost. “And… you won’t tell anyone? Not even Byron?”

“Not unless you want me to,” she reassures me. “Not a soul. This is your secret, Maisie. No one else’s. I’ll keep it until you’re ready.”

I close my eyes, relief washing over me in waves. Olivia is a vault, and I know she means what she says. She won’t tell a soul.

“I just… I don’t know what to do,” I whisper again, feeling the truth of the words settle deep in my bones.

“And you don’t have to know right now,” says Olivia gently. “Give yourself some time. Focus on what you can control for now. If you need, we can pull you out right now. Just say the word. You know Keira would do it in a heartbeat—no explanation required. But if you want to stay, you’re allowed to stay, too.”

The mission. God, I almost forgot about it in the midst of all this.

“Thanks, Liv,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. “I just… I needed to hear that. I’ll think about it.”

“I’m always here,” she says softly. “Whatever you need, you know I’ve got your back.”

“I’ll… I’ll talk to you soon.” My voice is shaky, but I manage to hold it together, to keep from breaking down again.

I need space. Space to think, to breathe, to process.

And if one thing is for sure, I think, seeing it all in my mind at once—Aris’ proud smile, Veronica’s encouraging grin, the faces of the enamored onlookers at our parties, the snarl of the Haverwood second-in-command as he held his gun to a stranger’s head, the blood on the glass, the faces of all those hundreds whose lives we can save here, all of it at once, a flipbook picture show. I’m not giving up this mission.

No way in hell.