“Wait, you’re gonna be my Baby Mama..?!!” — Daniela. Avanzini. [ series ] ( Part.2 )
Synopsis ::: When you finally confesses the pregnancy to Dani, the shock gives way to an unsteady promise that she won’t let you face it alone, even as friends and family react with a mix of support and doubt. But as the heartbeat on the first ultrasound makes everything real, campus whispers and mounting stress drive the two to clash and drift—until a tearful night apart leaves Dani showing up at your door, desperate to make things right.
Paring ::: G!P Daniela Avanzini × Fem!Reader (College AU)
Warning ::: emotional confrontation, strong language, family conflict (rough FaceTime with parents), mixed reactions from friends, anxiety, medical themes (ultrasound, doctor visits), stress, arguments/fighting between couple, crying, angst, mentions of gossip/whispers on campus, brief comfort and reconciliation.
A/n - Total! [ 7.7k words ] || Masterlist. Part 3 [ Lats part ]
The test was still in your desk drawer.
You couldn’t throw it away, couldn’t look at it, couldn’t stop thinking about it. That tiny white stick, hidden under a pile of notebooks, felt like it pulsed in the silence of your dorm room. A secret that weighed heavier than anything you’d ever carried.
You hadn’t slept much since that night in the bathroom. The tears had come and gone, leaving you wrung out and hollow. Sophia had stayed up with you until dawn, refusing to leave your side, and even now she watched you like a hawk.
But hiding wasn’t working.
The following afternoon, all three of your friends sat you down in the lounge: Sophia, Yoonchae, and Manon. They’d formed a little semicircle around you on the couch, faces deadly serious.
It felt like an intervention.
“Alright,” Sophia said, crossing her arms. “We can’t ignore this. We need to talk about Daniela.”
Her name landed like a rock in your stomach.
You shifted uncomfortably, clutching the throw pillow against your chest. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Bullshit,” Sophia snapped. “She’s the father. She deserves to know.”
Your throat tightened. “She’s not the—she doesn’t—it’s not—”
“She is,” Yoonchae interrupted softly. Her calm voice was worse than Sophia’s sharp one. “And you can’t keep this from her.”
You buried your face in the pillow, muffling a groan. “I can’t tell her. She’ll freak out. She’ll laugh in my face, or—or deny it, or—”
“Or,” Manon cut in, leaning forward, “she’ll step up. Maybe more than you think.”
You shot her a look. “You don’t know that.”
“Neither do you,” she said simply. “That’s why you have to try.”
Your mind whirled with possibilities, each one worse than the last.
Daniela Avanzini. The cool kid. The one everyone noticed when she walked into a room. The one with a cocky smirk and a voice that slipped between Spanish and English like it was nothing. The one who had taken you to bed after a party, made you feel wanted, and then gone back to her life as though nothing had happened.
How could you tell her this?
How could you walk up to someone like Dani and say Hey, remember that night? Surprise—you’re gonna be a parent.
You hugged the pillow tighter, your chest aching. “She’s going to hate me.”
“She won’t,” Yoonchae said firmly.
“You don’t know that,” you whispered.
“I know you,” she replied. “And you wouldn’t have ended up with someone who’d abandon you like that.”
Her certainty cracked something in you.
For a long time, nobody spoke. The hum of the old lounge refrigerator filled the silence.
Finally, Sophia sighed and reached over, tugging the pillow out of your grip. “Listen. You don’t have to do it alone. We’ll be there if you want us to. But you have to do it.”
Manon nodded. “The longer you wait, the harder it’s going to be.”
Your eyes stung, but you nodded numbly.
“Okay,” you whispered. “I’ll tell her.”
The decision settled in your chest like a stone. Heavy, unmovable.
But at least it was decided.
You’d tell her. You’d tell Daniela Avanzini that the condom had broken, that you were pregnant, that everything had changed.
The thought made you sick.
Later that evening, Sophia found you sitting at your desk, staring at the wall.
“You alright?” she asked gently.
She squeezed your shoulder. “You don’t have to be. Just… do it tomorrow. She has practice in the afternoon. Go then. Get it over with.”
Your stomach twisted, but you nodded.
Tomorrow you would shatter both your worlds.
That night you barely slept. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw Dani’s face: smirking at the party, leaning in close, whispering mami against your neck. Then the smirk twisting into disgust, into anger, into disappointment.
By morning, your nerves were frayed raw.
You dressed slowly, hands shaking as you pulled on a hoodie and jeans. Sophia, Yoonchae, and Manon watched you like you were heading into battle.
“Text us the second it’s done,” Sophia said.
“Don’t chicken out,” Manon added.
Yoonchae simply pressed a granola bar into your hand, her eyes kind. “You’ll be okay.”
You shoved it in your pocket, too nauseous to eat.
And then you left the dorm, each step carrying you closer to the practice field where Daniela would be.
Your heart pounded so loudly it drowned out the world.
The walk to the practice field felt endless.
Your sneakers crunched over gravel, the sun sharp and too warm on your face. Every step made your chest tighter, like your lungs were shrinking. You clutched the strap of your backpack like it might anchor you, but nothing stopped the swirl in your stomach.
From a distance, the sound of voices and laughter carried over. The team was already out on the field, tossing the ball around, music blasting faintly from someone’s speaker.
She stood in the center of it all, hair pulled back, a loose t-shirt clinging to her from warm-up drills. She was laughing at something Lara said, leaning back with that easy, magnetic confidence that made people orbit her without even trying. Megan was sprawled on the grass nearby, cheering her on like always.
She looked untouchable. Effortless.
And you felt like you might throw up.
For a minute, you froze. Maybe you could turn back. Pretend you’d never come. Tell Sophia you tried but Dani was too busy.
But then Daniela’s eyes flicked up. Even from across the field, you felt it—the way her gaze hooked onto you.
She tilted her head slightly, brows furrowing, like she couldn’t quite place why you were here.
There was no backing out now.
You forced your legs to move, crossing the grass. Every step was heavy, your pulse loud in your ears. A couple of players glanced at you curiously, whispering, but you kept your eyes fixed on Dani.
When you finally reached the edge of the field, Lara noticed you first.
“Well, well,” she drawled, smirking. “Didn’t think this was your scene.”
Heat rose in your cheeks. “I—I need to talk to Dani.”
Megan, sprawled on her elbows, raised a brow. “Ooooh. Someone’s serious.”
Daniela rolled her eyes at them before tossing the ball to another teammate. “Give me a sec.”
She jogged over, brushing sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. “Hey,” she said casually, as if your whole body wasn’t trembling. “Didn’t expect to see you here, princesa.”
The nickname made your throat dry.
You shifted on your feet. “Can we—um. Talk? In private?”
Her brows rose. “Private, huh?” She glanced back at Lara and Megan, who were very obviously watching. “Alright. Lead the way.”
You walked toward the edge of the bleachers, Daniela following a step behind. The weight of her presence pressed against your back—her height, her confidence, her easy stride. It made you feel even smaller, like you might fold in on yourself.
When you reached the empty corner near the fence, you turned to face her.
Daniela leaned against the metal railing, arms crossed, still slightly out of breath from practice. Her eyes scanned your face, curious but not unkind.
“So,” she said, tilting her head. “What’s up? You look like you’re about to faint.”
Your mouth opened, but no sound came out.
The words tangled in your throat, thick and heavy. I’m pregnant. You’re the father.
But instead you blurted, “This is really hard.”
Her brows furrowed. “Okay… you wanna sit down or something?”
You shook your head quickly. “No. I just—I need to tell you something. And it’s not—God, it’s not easy.”
Daniela straightened, some of her playfulness fading. She studied you, her jaw tightening slightly. “Alright. I’m listening.”
You fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve, heart racing. The words pressed against your lips, but your fear was louder: She’s going to hate me. She’s going to laugh. She’s going to walk away.
Her voice was firmer this time, pulling your gaze to hers. Those dark eyes that always seemed to see more than you wanted them to.
“Just say it,” she said softly.
You swallowed hard, trying to steady your voice.
Your throat felt like it was closing, but you forced the words out before you could swallow them back.
The world seemed to freeze.
The faint sounds of practice in the distance blurred, the chatter of Lara and Megan dulled to static. All that existed was Daniela standing in front of you, her dark eyes wide, her breath catching sharp in her chest.
For a moment, she didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
Then, slowly, her arms dropped from her chest. “You’re… what?”
You dug your nails into your palms, fighting the urge to run. “Pregnant. I took a test. It was positive.”
Her mouth opened, closed, opened again. She looked like someone had just knocked the wind out of her.
“Fuck,” she muttered finally, dragging a hand through her hair. “Fuck, I—this—shit.”
“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she said quickly, voice sharp with panic. “I swear, I—fuck, I thought—”
“The condom broke,” you whispered, your voice cracking.
Her eyes snapped to yours. “…Shit.”
Neither of you spoke for a long moment.
Daniela turned away, pacing a short step, then back again. She shook her head, muttering under her breath in Spanish. “Joder… ¿qué coño hago ahora?” (Fuck… what the hell do I do now?)
You wrapped your arms around yourself, tears burning your eyes. “I knew this was a mistake. I knew you’d freak out—”
“I’m not—” she cut herself off, grimacing. “Okay, yeah, I’m freaking out, but who wouldn’t? This is—this is huge, Y/n.”
Her voice cracked a little on your name, and you hated how it made your chest ache.
She dragged her hands over her face, then tried for a weak laugh. “Damn, princesa, you couldn’t just text me like a normal person?”
The attempt at humor landed like a stone between you.
You flinched, the tears finally spilling over.
Daniela’s face fell instantly.
“Shit. No, no, hey—” She stepped closer, her voice softer now. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t—don’t cry, please.”
But you couldn’t stop. The weeks of fear, of nausea, of denial, of holding it in, all of it crashed out of you in shuddering sobs.
“I didn’t ask for this either,” you choked out. “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do, Dani. My life—it’s over, everything’s ruined, and you’re just—just—”
Her hands hovered uncertainly before finally resting on your shoulders, warm and steady. “Hey. Breathe. Please, just—breathe.”
You tried, but the air came ragged.
“Listen to me,” Daniela said firmly, her accent thicker now, slipping into Spanish between words. “No voy a dejarte sola en esto. ¿Me entiendes? I won’t leave you alone in this.”
Your tear-blurred eyes snapped up to hers.
She held your gaze, her own wide but steady, as if forcing herself to believe the words as much as you. “I don’t know what the hell we’re supposed to do. I don’t. But I’m not walking away. I promise you that.”
Your sobs softened, though your chest still ached. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do,” she said quickly, her grip tightening slightly on your shoulders. “Mierda, Y/n, I’d be a total asshole if I didn’t. And I’m a lot of things, but I’m not that.”
You searched her face desperately, looking for cracks, for insincerity. But all you found was a girl just as terrified as you were, trying to hold it together.
And for the first time since you’d seen that word flash on the test, you felt the faintest spark of relief.
The silence stretched between you, fragile but real. Daniela finally let out a shaky laugh, running a hand over her face again. “Madre de Dios… we really fucked up, huh?”
Despite yourself, a weak laugh escaped your throat. “Yeah. We did.”
But when she pulled you into a hesitant, almost awkward hug, you clung to her like it was the only thing holding you upright.
And maybe, for now, it was.
You’d been dreading this more than telling Daniela.
Maybe because deep down, you’d expected Dani to react exactly how she did: freaked out, panicked, but still promising not to abandon you. With your parents? There were no guarantees.
They had plans for you. Expectations. A vision of your life that definitely didn’t include getting pregnant in college.
Still, it couldn’t wait forever. Secrets had a way of finding cracks.
Sophia was the one who pushed.
“You can’t hide this from them,” she said firmly, her arms crossed as she leaned against your desk. “The longer you wait, the worse it’ll be.”
“I know,” you muttered, fiddling with your phone.
Your throat tightened. “Please.”
She nodded once, practical as always. “Then let’s do it.”
You sat cross-legged on your bed, laptop open, FaceTime pulled up. Sophia sat right beside you, her knee pressed against yours, silent support radiating off her.
The dial tone felt like a drumbeat in your chest.
When your mom’s face finally appeared, smiling faintly through the screen, your stomach dropped.
“Sweetheart! What a nice surprise.” She adjusted the camera, your dad’s voice calling faintly in the background. “Hold on—David! Come here, it’s Y/n.”
Your father appeared a moment later, settling next to her with that familiar furrow between his brows. “Hey, kiddo. Everything alright?”
That question almost broke you.
You forced a smile, though your hands shook in your lap. “Yeah. I just… need to talk to you about something. Something important.”
Your mom’s smile faltered. “You sound serious.”
Sophia’s hand found yours under the blanket, squeezing tight.
You took a shaky breath. “I’m pregnant.”
The silence on the call was deafening.
Your mom blinked rapidly, as if she hadn’t heard you correctly. “You… what?”
“Pregnant,” you whispered.
Your father’s face hardened. “With who?”
You swallowed. “Her name’s Daniela. We—uh—we hooked up at a party, and the condom broke, and I didn’t even realize until weeks later, and—”
“Jesus Christ,” your dad muttered, rubbing a hand over his face.
Your mom’s voice cracked. “Y/n, do you have any idea what this means? You’re still in school. You don’t have a job. How are you supposed to—”
“I know,” you burst out, tears stinging your eyes. “I know I’m not ready. I didn’t plan this. But it happened.”
Your mom shook her head, tears brimming. “I just… I wanted so much more for you.”
The words sliced you open.
Your dad leaned forward, his voice sharp. “And what about this Daniela? Is she even around? Is she stepping up?”
You hesitated. “She… she said she won’t leave me alone in this.”
“That’s not the same as being responsible,” he snapped.
“David,” your mom murmured, but her voice was faint.
Your father pressed on. “Do you even know what you’re doing? What this is going to do to your future?”
The tears spilled over then, hot and fast. “No! I don’t know what I’m doing! I’m scared out of my mind, okay? But it’s happening.”
Sophia rubbed your back firmly, glaring at the screen like she wanted to step through and fight them herself.
Your mom finally spoke again, softer this time. “We need some time to… process this. To figure out how we can help. But Y/n… you have to understand, this changes everything.”
“I know,” you whispered, voice broken.
Your dad sighed, leaning back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’ll talk more soon. Just… don’t do anything without telling us first.”
The call ended not long after.
You sat there staring at the blank screen, tears dripping onto your lap.
“I ruined everything,” you choked out.
“No,” Sophia said firmly, pulling you into her side. “You didn’t ruin anything. This is just… hard. They’ll come around.”
“I could hear it in their voices,” you sobbed. “They’re disappointed in me. I could see it.”
“Of course they’re shocked. But you’re still you. You’re still their daughter. They’ll love you through it.”
You buried your face into Sophia’s shoulder, letting the sobs tear out of you until you couldn’t breathe.
And through it all, she held you tight, whispering, “You’re not alone. You’ve got us. Always.”
By the time the tears slowed, Yoonchae and Manon had slipped quietly into the room, settling on the bed with you without asking.
No words. Just presence. A reminder that no matter how badly the call had gone, you had your people here.
You sat curled in the middle of your bed, laptop closed, eyes swollen from crying. Sophia hadn’t moved from her spot beside you, still rubbing slow circles on your back.
Yoonchae and Manon lingered at the foot of the bed, watching carefully, like you were a glass vase balanced on a ledge.
The silence stretched until finally Manon broke it.
“So… your parents kinda freaked, huh?”
You groaned, shoving your face into your pillow. “Don’t remind me.”
“They’ll come around,” Sophia said immediately, her tone decisive. “They just need time to adjust. Honestly, you dropped a bomb on them. No one reacts well to that.”
You lifted your head, eyes blurry. “You sound like you’ve done this before.”
Sophia smirked faintly. “I’m just good at reading people. Trust me, Y/n, this isn’t the end of the world. You’ve got options, and whatever you choose, you’ve got us.”
Yoonchae leaned forward, her voice calm and measured, the way it always was when things felt like they were spinning out of control.
“Okay. Let’s slow down and think practically. You’re what—six, maybe seven weeks along?”
You nodded hesitantly. “Something like that.”
“Then you’ve got time to figure things out. Next step is getting a doctor’s appointment, just to confirm and see where you’re at. After that, we start planning.”
“Planning what?” you asked weakly.
“Everything,” Sophia said without missing a beat. “Classes, finances, housing—hell, even babysitting schedules if it comes to that.”
Your chest tightened. “That makes it sound so real.”
“It is real,” Sophia said gently, softening her tone for the first time that night. “But real doesn’t have to mean impossible.”
Manon suddenly flopped backward on your bed, staring at the ceiling. “I call godmother.”
You blinked at her. “…What?”
“Godmother,” she repeated, sitting up with mock seriousness. “Someone’s gotta teach this kid how to French swear before kindergarten, and who better than me?”
A weak laugh bubbled out of you despite yourself. “Manon…”
“What? I’m serious. Picture it: Manon Jr. running around campus, yelling merde at everyone. Iconic.”
Sophia rolled her eyes. “We are not naming the baby after you.”
Manon smirked. “Fine. Then I vote for… Jellybean. That can be the nickname until it’s born.”
“Jellybean?” you echoed, incredulous.
“Yeah! Cute, tiny, colorful—like you.” She winked.
You covered your face with your hands, but this time it was laughter spilling out, not tears.
Yoonchae smiled softly. “I like it. Jellybean.”
“See?” Manon said, triumphant. “I’m a genius.”
Sophia huffed, but there was affection in her eyes. “You’re an idiot. But… fine. Jellybean works for now.”
The warmth in your chest surprised you. For the first time since that positive test, you didn’t feel crushed under the weight of it. You felt… supported.
Manon nudged your knee. “So? Jellybean’s first godmother says we’re doing this together. No excuses.”
Sophia added, “You focus on staying healthy. We’ll handle everything else.”
And Yoonchae, calm and steady as always, finished it off: “You’re not carrying this alone, Y/n. We’ve got you.”
You looked around at the three of them, your messy, ridiculous, loyal friends, and felt something like hope stir inside you.
Maybe you weren’t as alone as you thought.
Daniela sat slouched on the old couch in her and Lara’s apartment, a basketball balanced on her knees. Megan sat sprawled on the floor with her laptop open, typing lazily, while Lara leaned against the kitchen counter sipping iced coffee.
It was supposed to be a normal night. Music playing softly from Lara’s speaker, Megan complaining about a paper, Dani pretending not to think too hard about the conversation she knew she had to have.
Her leg bounced restlessly.
Finally, Lara arched a brow. “You’re twitchier than usual. Spill.”
Dani exhaled hard, dragging her hand over her face. “I gotta tell you guys something.”
Megan didn’t look up. “This better not be about another girl. We already know you’re a flirt.”
Dani’s laugh came out sharp, humorless. “Not like this.”
That made both of them look at her properly.
She swallowed, words thick in her throat. “Y/n’s pregnant.”
Megan’s jaw dropped. “You’re joking.”
“Do I look like I’m joking?” Dani snapped, tossing the ball aside.
Lara blinked, her coffee halfway to her lips. “Holy shit.”
“Yeah.” Dani leaned back, staring at the ceiling like maybe it would swallow her whole. “We hooked up after that party a while back. Condom must’ve broke. She told me a couple days ago.”
Megan slammed her laptop shut. “Daniela, what the actual fuck? You’re in college. You’re not ready for this.”
Her chest tightened. “You think I don’t know that?”
“Then what—what are you gonna do?” Megan demanded.
Dani’s jaw clenched. “What do you mean, what am I gonna do? She’s pregnant. I’m not just walking away.”
Lara finally set her coffee down, her tone softer than Megan’s but still edged with disbelief. “Dani… this is huge. Like—life-altering. Are you sure you’re ready to step up?”
“No,” Dani admitted, voice low. “I’m not sure of anything. I’m scared shitless.” She scrubbed her hands over her face. “But I promised her I wouldn’t leave. And I meant it.”
Megan shook her head, frustration clear. “You’ve got your whole future ahead of you—basketball, maybe grad school. A baby? That’ll change everything.”
“Maybe it will,” Dani shot back, heat in her voice. “But what am I supposed to do? Pretend it’s not my problem? That’s not me. Thats not the type of person.. plus she can’t be a single mom like that..”
The room went quiet again.
Lara crossed the room, resting a hand briefly on Dani’s shoulder. “If you’re serious about this… then we’ll figure it out together. Okay?”
Dani’s throat tightened. “Thanks.”
Megan sighed, rubbing her temples. “I still think this is insane. But… fine. If you’re in, I’ll back you up. Just don’t come crying to me when you’re drowning in diapers.”
Dani let out a shaky laugh, more relief than humor. “Yeah. Deal.”
But when she lay awake later that night, staring at the ceiling in the dark, fear clawed at her chest.
Because Megan was right. She wasn’t ready. Not even close.
But she was in it now. And for you—for the tiny life neither of you had planned—she wasn’t going anywhere.
The night before your appointment, you barely slept.
You lay in bed staring at the ceiling, one hand pressed lightly against your stomach as if you could already feel something there. All you felt was nausea, and maybe the faintest swell of dread.
Tomorrow, it would be real. Tomorrow, there would be proof.
“Don’t even think about backing out,” Sophia said the next morning, standing over you with her arms crossed while you sat on the edge of your bed, tugging nervously at the hem of your sweater.
Her brow arched. “You were.”
From the bathroom, Yoonchae’s calm voice floated out. “We’ll all go with you. It’ll be fine.”
“And fun!” Manon chimed in, appearing from behind Yoonchae with a granola bar in her mouth. She offered you another one like it was some kind of sacred offering. “You gotta eat, mama.”
You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Don’t call me that.”
“Why not? You’re literally going to be one.”
Sophia swatted the granola bar out of Manon’s hand. “She’s anxious enough, don’t add to it.”
Manon pouted dramatically, retrieving her snack from the floor. “Fine. But when Jellybean asks who supported them from the start, I’m telling the truth.”
Despite yourself, a shaky laugh escaped you.
The walk to the clinic was brisk, fall leaves crunching underfoot. Sophia kept checking her phone for directions, Yoonchae carried the folder of paperwork you’d been avoiding, and Manon skipped a step ahead, narrating the whole journey like some kind of tour guide.
“And on your left, you’ll see the anxious mother-to-be, flanked by her loyal knights.”
“What? Humor helps with stress.”
You shook your head, smiling faintly despite the pit in your stomach.
The clinic itself was quiet, white walls and faintly antiseptic air. A receptionist checked you in, sliding a clipboard across the counter.
Your hands trembled as you held the pen, the questions swimming in front of your eyes: Last period, medical history, emergency contact.
Sophia slid into the chair beside you, glancing over the form. “Here. I’ll help.”
She read each line, guiding you through like she was reading a test aloud. Yoonchae rubbed your shoulder every time you froze, and Manon hummed softly, drumming her fingers against the arm of her chair like you were all just waiting for a concert to start.
The waiting room was small, filled with muted chatter and the rustle of magazines. A couple sat across from you, the woman’s belly noticeably round, her partner’s hand resting protectively on her knee. Another girl about your age scrolled through her phone, earbuds in.
You felt out of place. Too young, too unprepared.
“I don’t belong here,” you whispered.
“Yes, you do,” Yoonchae said immediately, her voice steady.
“Of course you do,” Sophia added. “You’re here because you need answers. That’s exactly what this place is for.”
Manon leaned over, whispering conspiratorially, “Besides, we’re the hottest crew in the waiting room. Jellybean’s already got a fan club.”
You burst out laughing, earning a few curious looks. The sound felt strange in your chest — lighter than the fear coiled tight inside you.
Minutes stretched. The clock ticked. Every time a nurse appeared with a clipboard, your heart leapt into your throat.
Finally, a name rang out. Yours.
Sophia nudged you to your feet. “Come on.”
Yoonchae smiled gently. “We’ll be right outside if they don’t let us in.”
“Or storm the exam room if they try,” Manon added.
You rolled your eyes, but the warmth of their words steadied you as you followed the nurse down the hall.
The exam room was colder than you expected, the hum of fluorescent lights buzzing faintly overhead. The nurse handed you a folded gown and gestured toward the exam table.
“Change into this, hon. Doctor will be in soon.”
You nodded mutely, hands trembling as you unfolded the thin fabric.
By the time you climbed onto the table, heart hammering in your chest, you were fighting back tears again.
What if something’s wrong? What if there’s nothing there? What if this is all a mistake?
You jolted — but it wasn’t the doctor.
She stood in the doorway, hair mussed like she’d sprinted here, her backpack slung over one shoulder. Her eyes scanned the room, landing on you in the gown.
“Shit—lo siento, I’m late,” she muttered, shutting the door behind her. “Coach held me after practice. But I’m here. I’m not missing this.”
Relief crashed over you so sudden it almost hurt. “You came.”
“Of course I came,” she said, stepping closer. “I said I’d be here, didn’t I?”
The doctor entered then, introducing herself with a calm smile.
“First ultrasound, huh? Always a big moment.”
You lay back as the nurse rolled the machine closer, squeezing gel onto the wand. The cold hit your skin like ice, and you flinched.
Dani immediately reached for your hand. “Cold, huh?”
You shot her a watery glare. “Understatement.”
The nurse smirked faintly but kept working, sliding the probe across your stomach. The monitor flickered, static at first, then shapes beginning to form.
“There we go,” the doctor said softly, pointing at the screen. “See that?”
You squinted, tears blurring your vision. A tiny flicker pulsed on the grainy image.
Your heart stopped. “Is… is that…?”
“The heartbeat,” the doctor confirmed. “Strong and steady.”
The room fell silent except for the faint, rapid thump-thump-thump filling the air.
Your own breath came out shaky. That sound. That tiny, insistent rhythm. It was real.
“Oh my God,” you whispered.
Dani’s grip on your hand tightened. You glanced at her and saw her wide, stunned eyes fixed on the screen.
“Madre de Dios…” she breathed, barely audible. “That’s ours.”
Tears welled hot in your eyes. You laughed, shaky and wet. “It’s real. I—I didn’t just make it up.”
“Of course you didn’t,” Dani said softly, though her own voice trembled.
You turned back to the screen, watching the flicker that was somehow a heartbeat, somehow a life.
The doctor clicked a few images, saving them to print later, her voice calm and clinical against the roar of emotion in your chest. “Everything looks healthy for this stage. Congratulations.”
When the probe was removed and the gel wiped away, you sank back against the table, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.
Dani didn’t let go of you until the doctor stepped out.
The moment the door clicked shut, she exhaled hard, dragging her free hand through her hair. “Holy shit.”
You laughed weakly. “Yeah.”
Her eyes flicked back to the machine, then to you. “I didn’t think… I mean, I knew it was real, but—hearing it? Seeing it? That was—”
“Terrifying?” you offered.
“And amazing,” she admitted, her voice soft, almost reverent.
For a fleeting second, sitting there with her hand still holding yours, you didn’t feel so scared.
You felt like maybe—just maybe—you weren’t carrying this alone.
The clinic’s door closed behind you, shutting out the sterile hum of fluorescent lights and the faint antiseptic smell.
Outside, the late afternoon sun hung low, casting long shadows across the pavement. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of fallen leaves and exhaust from passing cars.
You clutched your bag tighter, and Dani matched your pace, hand brushing yours from time to time — tentative, almost protective.
Neither of you spoke for several minutes, the silence comfortable in its own strange way.
Finally, Dani cleared her throat. “I didn’t think I’d… I don’t know. I thought I’d freak out, but… seeing it? Hearing it? It’s—” She trailed off, shaking her head.
You glanced at her, heart twisting. “Real?”
Her lips twitched into a small, lopsided smile. “Yeah. Real.”
You walked past a small park, the crunch of leaves underfoot loud against the soft chatter of students around you.
“I’m scared,” Dani admitted suddenly, voice low, almost vulnerable. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never… done anything like this. Not ever. And now…” She exhaled sharply, shoulders tensing. “Now there’s a baby depending on us.”
Your chest tightened. “I know. I’m terrified too.”
“I mean it. I feel like I should be ready to step up, but I’m not. Not at all.”
You squeezed her hand gently. “Doesn’t mean you can’t be.”
She looked at you, eyes wide, searching. “What if I mess it up?”
You smiled weakly, letting some of your fear show in your own voice. “Then we’ll mess up together. At least we’re honest about it.”
A gust of wind rustled through the trees, lifting strands of Dani’s hair across her face. She swatted them away, laughing softly. “I don’t even know if I can do this. But… somehow, it feels kinda right. Weird, huh?”
You laughed quietly, shaking your head. “Not weird. Feels human. Scary, but… right.”
Her eyes softened, lingering on yours. “I mean it, Y/n. I’m terrified. But… I’m here. I’m not leaving you alone.”
The sincerity in her tone, the way she reached for your hand and held it, made your chest ache with relief.
“Me neither,” you whispered.
You continued walking in silence for a few more minutes, the world around you muted. Just the two of you, tethered by shared fear and newfound responsibility, moving forward together.
Finally, Dani glanced down at your stomach, where the faintest swell had begun to show. Her hand hovered an inch above it, trembling slightly.
“It’s crazy,” she murmured. “We made this. We did this. And now… it’s real.”
You nodded, a lump in your throat. “Yeah. It’s real.”
And somehow, that tiny heartbeat on the screen earlier — that pulse that had made everything undeniable — felt like a promise.
A promise that maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t be facing this alone.
Dani squeezed your hand one last time as you approached campus again. “We’ll figure it out,” she said quietly. “One step at a time.”
You nodded, letting yourself believe it — not completely, not yet, but enough to keep walking.
Because today, you’d seen the proof. The baby was real. And so was Dani.
And for now, that had to be enough.
The sun rose pale over campus, but its light didn’t feel warm. It fell across brick pathways and manicured lawns, but instead of comfort, it made the whispers louder in your head.
Every step to class felt like it was being noticed. Not just noticed—examined. Judged. Pregnant girl with the popular teammate.
You tried to keep your hoodie pulled low, your backpack covering your stomach, but the movement was useless. Everyone seemed to know already. Some whispered as you passed. Some stared. Some gave awkward smiles, like they didn’t know whether to say congratulations or tut-tut in disapproval.
Your stomach churned—not just from nausea, but from the weight of attention.
Sophia walked beside you, her hands stuffed in her jacket pockets, quiet but alert. “Ignore it,” she murmured. “Most of these people won’t even remember by tomorrow.”
“You say that,” you muttered, tugging the hoodie lower, “but half the campus knows already.”
She didn’t reply immediately. You could feel her scanning the crowds, her protective energy bracing for you.
“You’re doing fine,” she said finally, her voice soft. “Really. Just… keep your head down.”
Manon bounced alongside you, trying to lighten the mood. “Hey, at least you’re famous now! Jellybean’s got paparazzi following them to class.”
You groaned. “I don’t feel famous. I feel like a target.”
By the time you reached your first lecture, the whispers didn’t fade. The professor noticed your slower steps, your frequent pauses to catch your breath, your careful way of sitting to avoid discomfort.
“Are you feeling okay, Y/n?” the professor asked, genuine concern in her voice.
You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yes, thank you.”
As the lecture went on, fatigue hit harder. Your concentration wavered. Words blurred on the slides. Your stomach rolled as nausea pressed up, but you clenched your fists under the desk, refusing to call attention to yourself.
Beside you, your friends—Sophia, Yoonchae, and Manon—exchanged small glances. You didn’t need to speak; they understood.
People didn’t stop staring in the cafeteria. Even the staff’s casual glances felt like judgment. You took a seat at your usual spot, the one farthest from the windows. Your friends clustered around you, shielding you as best they could.
“You okay?” Yoonchae asked, sliding a bottle of water toward you.
“I will be,” you murmured. The lie tasted bitter in your mouth.
Manon reached across the table, squeezing your hand. “You’ve got this. Just one day at a time. And hey, if anyone whispers—” She paused dramatically. “We glare. And then we glare some more
A small laugh escaped you despite the heaviness. At least they were trying. At least someone was on your side.
Later that afternoon, Dani showed up for practice—but she looked tense. Her usual confident swagger was missing.
“Hey,” you called quietly as you passed her on the field.
“Hey,” she said, voice tight. Her eyes flicked over you quickly, then away.
You felt the familiar pull of worry. She seemed distant, distracted. And in that moment, you realized it wasn’t just the whispers and attention that were weighing you down. Dani was feeling it too.
Assignments piled up, deadlines pressed closer, and you couldn’t focus. Even your laptop felt heavy on your lap. Every time your stomach growled—or gurgled—you felt exposed. Every time you saw Dani across campus, laughing with friends or tossing a ball, you felt a little sting of isolation.
You wanted to tell her everything: the exhaustion, the anxiety, the way the whispers made you shrink inside yourself. But every time you tried, she seemed busy, distracted, or unavailable.
So you bottled it. You smiled. You trudged through, carrying the weight of the semester and the growing reality inside you.
By the evening, the tension had built until it was a tight knot in your chest.
When you saw Dani for dinner later, she’d missed your prenatal class.
Your stomach sank. “You missed it?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.
“I had practice,” she said quickly, shrugging. “Coach wouldn’t let me leave early. I tried to—”
“Try?!” The words burst out before you could stop them. “You knew it was important! You knew we needed to go together!”
Dani’s face hardened. “I have classes, too! And practice! I’m doing the best I can, okay?”
“I can’t believe you sometimes,” you said, voice trembling. “I feel like you’re not taking this seriously.”
Her eyes flashed. “Not taking it seriously? I never planned this either, Y/n! Do you think I wanted any of this? Do you think I asked to be here?”
You swallowed back a sob, spun on your heel, and stormed out of the cafeteria before she could respond.
By the time you reached your dorm, tears streamed down your face. You barely made it to Sophia’s door before collapsing into her arms.
“Hey,” she murmured, guiding you into her bed. “Shh… it’s okay. You’re okay.”
You curled against her, letting the sobs come freely. Manon and Yoonchae joined you, a fortress of warmth and comfort.
“I can’t do this,” you cried, voice raw. “Everything’s falling apart. Dani… she… she’s scared, I’m scared, I—”
“You’re not alone,” Sophia whispered firmly. “We’ve got you. All of us. One step at a time.”
Manon rubbed your back, murmuring, “Yeah, Jellybean. We’re not going anywhere.”
Yoonchae held your hand, calm and steady. “Tomorrow’s a new day. We’ll figure it out together.”
But even as they comforted you, the ache in your chest didn’t fully fade. You knew things weren’t fixed. Dani and you were still out there, still tangled in fear and pressure, and you weren’t sure if the distance between you was just exhaustion… or something more.
As the night stretched on, you finally drifted into restless sleep, wrapped in your friends’ arms, holding on to whatever sense of safety they could give you.
And somewhere in the dark, Dani’s absence pressed against the door like a question that demanded an answer.
The morning sun filtered weakly through the dorm window, but it did little to lift the heaviness in your chest.
You were still curled beneath Sophia’s blankets, hair tangled, eyes puffy from crying the night before. Manon had left hours ago to “acquire emergency snacks,” and Yoonchae sat quietly in the chair beside the bed, her calm presence anchoring you.
A sharp knock at the door made you flinch.
“Y/n?” Dani’s voice, tentative, called from outside.
Your stomach twisted. You weren’t sure if you were ready to see her yet. The anger from yesterday still burned hot beneath the surface.
“I’m not up,” you muttered, voice tight.
“Please… just a minute,” she pleaded. “I want to—can we talk?”
Sophia gave you a small nod. “It’s okay. You’ll feel better facing it.”
You drew a shaky breath, pulling the blanket around your shoulders, and opened the door.
Dani stood there, messy hair pulled into a hurried ponytail, eyes wide and guilt-ridden. Her usual confidence was missing, replaced by tension and something fragile you hadn’t seen before.
“I’m sorry,” she said immediately. “I didn’t mean to… yesterday. I just—”
“Just what?” you demanded, stepping aside to let her in. “Just skip the prenatal class? Just act like this isn’t serious?”
“I said I’m sorry!” Dani snapped, the frustration breaking through her usually calm exterior. “Do you think I wanted any of this? That I planned it? I didn’t!”
The words hit harder than you expected. You felt the sting of tears return. “I know you didn’t plan it, Dani. But we’re responsible now. We have to be serious about this—together.”
“I am being serious!” she shot back. “I’m showing up now, aren’t I? I didn’t walk away. I’m here, trying to do the right thing!”
You shook your head, voice cracking. “It doesn’t feel like it. It feels like I’m carrying everything alone, and you’re… just floating through your own panic, pretending it’s fine.”
“I’m scared too!” she yelled, finally letting herself admit it. “I’ve never done this before! I don’t know what I’m doing! And sometimes it feels like it’s too much, and I just—”
Her words faltered. For the first time, you saw her vulnerability without the confident mask. The bravado that usually filled every room had cracked, and underneath, she was just as terrified as you were.
The room fell silent, both of you breathing hard, chest heaving, emotions raw.
You sank onto Sophia’s bed again, burying your face in your hands. “I can’t—God, I just can’t do this sometimes,” you whispered, sobbing.
Dani sank beside you, hesitating before letting her hands rest on your shoulders. “I know,” she said softly. “I don’t mean to make it worse. I just… I’m scared too.”
You didn’t reply. The tears kept coming, spilling over into the bedspread, muffling your quiet cries.
Sophia and Yoonchae didn’t say much, just stayed nearby. Manon appeared with a cup of water and a small snack, placing them gently on the nightstand. “For Jellybean,” she said softly. “And their very stressed mama.”
You laughed weakly through your tears, and Dani finally reached for your hand, squeezing it gently.
“I don’t want to fight,” she murmured, voice low and fragile. “I just… I don’t know how to do any of this, Y/n. But I’m not leaving you.”
You blinked through your tears. “I know. I don’t want to fight either. I just… I need you to be here. Really here.”
She nodded, leaning her forehead against yours. “I am. I’ll figure it out. I promise. I don’t know exactly how yet, but I’m not going anywhere.”
For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The tension didn’t fully disappear, but the acknowledgment of fear, the admission of vulnerability, made it feel… lighter.
But even as you finally sank into a shaky, exhausted quiet, you knew this was just the beginning. College, whispers, fear, and responsibility still loomed large. You weren’t past the storm—you were in the eye, and the wind would start up again soon.
Yet, for tonight, Dani was there. And for the first time in days, you let yourself breathe.
The night passed in a haze of exhaustion and restless sleep.
You curled beneath Sophia’s blankets, the soft weight of her presence beside you a small comfort. Yoonchae dozed in the chair, her steady breathing a calm anchor, while Manon had claimed a corner of the bed with a pile of pillows, muttering occasional reassurances in her sleep.
You weren’t sure you slept at all. Every time your eyes closed, the argument with Dani replayed: the sharp words, the snap of frustration, the way her eyes had reflected fear you had never seen before.
Somewhere in the night, you must have drifted, because the next thing you knew, it was early morning, pale light filtering through the dorm curtains.
A soft knock at the door broke the silence.
You froze, heart hammering. Dani? This early? After last night?
“Y/n?” Her voice, low and hesitant, called from the other side.
Your chest tightened. You didn’t know whether to answer or pretend to be asleep. But after a moment, you forced yourself to your feet, tugging the blanket around you like armor.
“Dani?” you whispered, voice shaky.
“I—can I come in?” she asked quietly.
You hesitated, but the sound of her vulnerability made your walls falter. Slowly, you moved aside. “Yeah… come in.”
The door opened, and there she was. No confident stride, no teasing smile. Just Dani, looking unsteady, eyes wide and searching. Her hair was messy, clothes rumpled from sleep or perhaps a sleepless night of her own.
For the first time in weeks, she seemed small. Fragile. Scared.
She stepped inside, her gaze flicking around the room, finally landing on you. “I… I didn’t know how else to say it. I just—”
“You don’t have to explain yet,” you said softly.
She swallowed, taking a tentative step closer. “I’m here. I’m not leaving.”
The words echoed in your chest. You’d heard them before, but somehow, spoken this way—quiet, unguarded—they carried weight you hadn’t felt last night.
You let yourself relax fractionally, still wary, still raw from yesterday. But you nodded, letting the tension ease just a little.
Dani sank onto the floor across from your bed, head bowed, hands clasped together. “I’m scared too, Y/n. I really am. But I’m not going anywhere. Not for Jellybean, not for you… not for anything.”
You watched her, taking in the uncharacteristic vulnerability. The girl who always seemed unshakable had folded herself down into uncertainty—and yet, she had come.
You exhaled slowly, sinking onto the bed beside Sophia’s empty space, letting the tears that had been threatening spill over again, but this time mixed with relief.
For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Only the faint morning light, the soft creak of the dorm floor, and the steady beat of your own heart.
You reached out, your hand brushing hers. She met your gaze, a small, tentative smile forming.
“We’ll figure it out,” she murmured.
You nodded, voice barely audible: “Yeah… we’ll figure it out.”
And for the first time in days, the storm outside—the whispers, the pressure, the exhaustion—felt like it might be something you could survive.
But the storm wasn’t gone. Not yet.
This was just the beginning.
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