"This is the third meal you've had before noon," Clara said, raising a brow as she handed over a plate of food—crispy chicken nuggets drizzled in… peanut butter?
Lena took it with zero shame. "I stress-eat, alright? Better than stress-drinking."
Clara dropped onto the couch across from her, arms crossed. "Stress-eating is one thing, but this is chicken nuggets and peanut butter. You sure you're okay?"
Lena stared at the plate, her appetite suddenly gone, even though she had begged Clara for it five minutes ago. She sighed, long and deep.
"Ethan's under a lot of pressure," she murmured. "The leak, Vivian being behind it, the grace period ending with barely any evidence to fight back. I hate seeing him like this."
Clara nodded, lips pursed. "And it's affecting you."
Lena gave a weak smile. "You always see right through me."
"I've lived with you too long not to." Clara leaned in with a mischievous grin. "So… when's the last time you two had sex?"
Lena choked. "Clara!"
"What?" she shrugged, smirking. "Your face just screamed, 'we haven't touched each other in weeks and I might explode.' I'm just confirming."
Lena blinked. "Is there no such thing as privacy anymore?"
"Nope. Not when your orgasm screams echoed through the hallway that night. You practically shook the light fixtures. Half the building knows you're a thing now."
Lena groaned and covered her face. "We haven't… since the morning everything blew up. That's like three weeks now. We're both just… drained. We cuddle, fall asleep. That's it."
"Cuddling is sweet and all," Clara said, "but I know Ethan's type. That man craves control, closeness. Sex isn't just a release—it's how he anchors himself. If he's not touching you… that's serious."
Lena looked down at her lap. "I know. And I hate that I can't do more."
"You can," Clara said bluntly. "You could get him to reopen that abandoned floor he keeps locked."
Lena looked up sharply.
"I know he's hiding something there," Clara continued. "The past he won't talk about. Maybe even answers to what really happened the night his mom died. You want to help him? Really help him? That's where you start."
Lena hesitated. "I've thought about it. But every time I bring up the past, he shuts down. I don't want him to pull away from me."
"Then do it carefully," Clara said. "But don't tiptoe forever, Lena. He's not just fighting a scandal—he's fighting ghosts. You won't win this by playing safe."
Lena nodded slowly, still uncertain.
Clara's eyes dropped to the plate in her hand. "Okay, back to this crime against cuisine. Chicken nuggets and peanut butter. You've never liked either of those before, let alone together."
Lena's stomach knotted. "It's what I'm craving."
"Craving?" Clara echoed, narrowing her eyes.
"Don't," Lena said, already seeing the gears turning in her friend's head.
Clara tilted her head. "Let's see. You're stress-eating weird food combos, but yesterday you didn't eat at all. You've been moody, quiet, and—oh my God."
"Clara—"
Clara's eyes widened. "You're pregnant."
Lena froze.
"No way," Clara whispered, sitting back in stunned silence. "Lena, are you—seriously?"
"I—" Lena started, but the words lodged in her throat.
Clara's voice dropped to a whisper. "Holy crap. That explains so much. The weird food, the mood swings, the glow—you're glowing, by the way."
"Shut up," Lena muttered, blinking rapidly.
"Does Ethan know?" Clara asked.
Lena shook her head.
"Why not?!"
"I haven't had the chance!" Lena snapped, then lowered her voice. "I wanted to tell him, I did. But I found out right before everything started crashing down. The Vivian news, the pressure, my exams…"
Clara was silent, waiting.
"I didn't want to cloud my judgment," Lena continued. "So I waited until I made my decision—to stay. And then I checked the test."
"And?"
"Positive," Lena whispered. "Four weeks."
Clara blew out a breath. "Wow."
"I want to keep it," Lena said, eyes glistening. "But I'm terrified. What if he doesn't want it? What if this is too much for him?"
Clara reached across the table and took her hand. "Lena… this is Ethan. The man who would take a bullet for you without flinching. You have to give him a chance to know. You can't make this decision for both of you."
"I'm just scared he'll push me away," Lena whispered. "He's always trying to protect me, even if it means hurting me."
Clara squeezed her hand. "Then make sure he knows he doesn't have to do this alone."
Lena sniffled, nodding.
"You're gonna tell him, right?"
"Yes. I will."
"When?"
"Soon."
"You've got twenty-four hours," Clara said. "If you don't tell him, I will."
Lena groaned. "Why are you like this?"
"Because you're stubborn. And scared. And sometimes you need a push."
Right then, the office door creaked open.
"Hey, babe," Ethan's deep voice filled the room as he stepped in, his presence calm but heavy. He bent and pressed a soft kiss to Lena's forehead. "Bad time?"
Lena's heart skipped a beat. "No, no. Not at all."
Ethan glanced between them, sensing the tension instantly. He noticed how quickly they unclasped hands, the nervous energy in Lena's posture. His eyes lingered on her.
"I'll be in my office if you need me," he said gently.
Lena stood abruptly. "I'm coming with you."
Clara caught her gaze as she passed—a silent you've got this.
Ethan didn't say a word as they walked down the hall. But Lena could feel it—he knew something was off.
He opened the door for her, and she stepped inside his office, her fingers trembling slightly.