🧡 ᴜɴᴘʟᴀɴɴᴇᴅ — ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 3: ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪᴀɢɴᴏꜱɪꜱ 🧡
ꜰ1 x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ʟᴀɴᴅᴏ ɴᴏʀʀɪꜱ ᴀᴜ | ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ + ᴅʀᴀᴍᴀ
⚠️ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ:
ʜᴏꜱᴘɪᴛᴀʟ ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ
ᴍᴇᴅɪᴄᴀʟ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴜꜱꜱɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ
ꜰᴀɪɴᴛɪɴɢ / ᴘʜʏꜱɪᴄᴀʟ ᴄᴏʟʟᴀᴘꜱᴇ
ɪᴍᴘʟɪᴇᴅ ɴᴏɴ-ᴄᴏɴꜱᴇɴꜱᴜᴀʟ ꜱɪᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ (ɴᴏᴛ ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄ, ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇᴀᴠɪʟʏ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ)
ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀʏ ʟᴏꜱꜱ
ᴛʀᴀᴜᴍᴀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅɪꜱᴛʀᴇꜱꜱ ʀᴇᴄᴏᴜɴᴛɪɴɢ
ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴛʀᴇᴇᴛ ʜᴀʀᴀꜱꜱᴍᴇɴᴛ
ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜱʜᴀᴍᴇ, ᴀɴɢᴇʀ, ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴄʏ, ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴏᴅɪʟʏ ᴀᴜᴛᴏɴᴏᴍʏ
The first thing she noticed was the scent, sharp, sterile, unmistakably hospital. Then came the beeping. Steady. Rhythmic. Her eyelids fluttered open against the harsh ceiling lights. Her body ached, heavy like she’d been asleep for days, and her mouth felt like cotton.
She stirred, her hand twitching beneath the blanket.
“(Y/n)?”
The voice was familiar, warm, and frantic.
“Amara,” she rasped.
Amara leaned over the bed, eyes wide and watery, clutching (Y/n)’s hand tightly. “Oh my god, you scared me. You collapsed at the train station. One second you were waving at me, and the next—boom—face white as a sheet.”
(Y/n) blinked up at her. “I... fainted?”
“Yeah. Hard. I thought I was going to have a heart attack,” Amara muttered, brushing hair off (Y/n)’s forehead. “The medics said it might’ve been exhaustion or dehydration or something, but—”
The door clicked open, interrupting her. A woman in a white coat stepped in, mid-40s with calm eyes behind square glasses. “Good evening. Miss (L/n)? I’m Dr. Marin.”
(Y/n) nodded faintly, trying to sit up.
“Careful,” Amara said quickly, adjusting the pillows behind her. “You’ve been out a while.”
Dr. Marin approached with a gentle tone. “You experienced a vasovagal syncope, essentially a fainting episode caused by low blood pressure, fatigue, or emotional stress. It’s common, but we took some bloodwork to rule out underlying causes.”
(Y/n)’s eyes narrowed slightly. She knew where this was going.
Dr. Marin continued, flipping over her clipboard. “Your hormone levels, specifically hCG, were elevated. That’s the hormone we look for in pregnancy.”
The silence that followed was so sharp, it hurt.
“You’re about five to six weeks pregnant.”
Amara gasped beside her. “Wait—what?”
(Y/n) just stared at the doctor, her throat dry. Five to six weeks. That lined up perfectly with the night she’d tried so hard to bury.
Dr. Marin, gently, continued. “We’ll schedule an ultrasound to confirm everything is progressing normally. But for now, I recommend rest, prenatal vitamins, and a follow-up with an OB-GYN.”
“Thank you,” Amara said quietly, though she looked like she’d just seen a ghost.
The doctor offered a kind smile, then excused herself with a promise to return later with the discharge forms.
The moment the door clicked shut, Amara turned to (Y/n), stunned. “Okay, back up. Are you seriously…?”
(Y/n) nodded slowly. “Yeah. I guess I am.”
Amara blinked. “Do you know who the father is?”
There was a beat of silence. Then another.
“I do,” (Y/n) said finally. Her voice was low. “I just… I haven’t told you because I didn’t even want to admit it to myself.”
Amara scooted closer and her eyes softened, sensing this wasn’t just a story, it was something heavier. She reached out, just to show she was listening. “(Y/n). I’m your best friend. You can tell me anything.”
(Y/n)’s voice trembled. “Do you remember five weeks ago? That awful night I got home late after I closed the shop? I decided to walk home. I didn’t want to deal with the tourist crowd, so I took the alleyways. I’d done it before, dozens of times.”
She stared past Amara, like she was looking into that night again.
“But this time, there were these guys. Drunk. Rowdy. At first, I thought they’d just pass by, but… they noticed me. Started saying things. Laughing too loud. I kept walking. Tried to ignore them.” Her hands tightened on her lap. “But then one of them followed. Another moved in front of me. I dropped my phone when I tried to grab it. One of them grabbed my wrist.”
Amara sat upright, alarmed. “Oh god…”
(Y/n) shook her head quickly, not wanting her friend to panic. “It didn’t get that far. Someone pulled me back. Hard. The guy almost fell.”
Amara’s brows furrowed. “Wait… who?”
(Y/n) gave a small, hollow laugh. “You won’t believe me.”
“Try me.”
“…Lando Norris.”
Amara’s mouth fell open.
“Like—F1 driver, Lando Norris?” she clarified, blinking like she misheard.
(Y/n) nodded, her voice trembling now. “Yeah. He was walking back from a bar, I think? He helped me get away. Then… I don’t even remember how it happened. One moment we were talking, the next… I woke up in my bed. Naked. Next to him.”
“Oh my god,” Amara whispered.
“I didn’t plan it. I didn’t even remember it. I think I was too shaken up to think clearly. But when I woke up and saw him there, I just froze.”
Amara stared, waiting.
“And then,” (Y/n) continued, her tone turning bitter, “he woke up, looked around, realized what had happened, and without saying anything, pulled out his wallet.”
Amara’s jaw clenched. “You’re kidding me.”
“He tried to pay me. Like I was just some random girl he could dismiss.”
(Y/n) let out a shaky breath. “I slapped the money out of his hand. Told him to get out. He didn’t argue. Just left.”
Amara looked furious now. “What the actual hell.”
“I haven’t seen him since. Monaco is small, but we live in different worlds. I thought… maybe I could forget about it. Pretend it didn’t happen.”
Amara leaned back, covering her face with both hands. “And now you’re pregnant.”
“Yeah.”
A silence fell between them.
Then Amara spoke again, softly. “What are you going to do?”
(Y/n) looked down at her hands. Her fingers were still trembling. “I don’t know. But one thing I do know, I’m not telling him.”
Amara looked unsure. “Are you sure that’s the right call? He is the father. And this isn’t just about you anymore.”
“He made it clear how little he thought of me,” (Y/n) said firmly. “I’m not giving him a chance to make me feel worse. This is my life now. My choice.”
Amara was quiet for a long beat. Then, slowly, she nodded. “Okay. I’m with you. Whatever you decide. You’re not alone in this.”
Tears pricked at (Y/n)’s eyes. “Thank you.”
Amara reached over and squeezed her hand. “Always.”
Later that night, after they were discharged and Amara helped carry her things back up the apartment steps, (Y/n) sat by her bedroom window, a warm mug in her hands. The sea breeze brushed past the curtains, and Monaco’s glittering skyline stretched quietly outside.
Her hand drifted to her stomach.
Still no bump. Still no sign. But now, a secret pulsed inside her, too new to define but impossible to ignore.
Her life had veered off course in a single, blurry night.
But one thing was becoming clear: this was no longer just about what had happened, it was about what came next.
And for the first time in weeks, she began to consider that maybe, just maybe, she could survive this.
To be continued... 🧡
🧡 ᴜɴᴘʟᴀɴɴᴇᴅ — ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 4: ᴛᴡᴏ ʟɪɴᴇꜱ, ᴏɴᴇ ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛ 🧡
📝 Note from the Author: It’s now afternoon here where I live, I just had lunch and jumped back into writing the next chapters. I’m aiming to finish three chapters today (maybe?? no promises HAHAHA), but let me know in the comments if you're down for a triple update! 👀💥
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With love, me 🧡
