After the Wild

Five and a half weeks had passed since we got back from that unhinged getaway.

It was supposed to be just a fun, wild vacation—no rules, no plans, just us.

I still remembered the way the sun felt on my skin when I laid beside Ethan, the taste of his lips, the feel of his hands on me in every room of that villa. The days blurred into nights, and we barely wore clothes. It was reckless—the way we spent ourselves. No concerns about time, about the future. No one to hold us accountable.

We just… were.

And when we came back home, it felt like we were living in a haze of lust, still reeling from everything we’d done. We hadn’t talked about the future. Not much beyond the engagement, that is. Ethan was still perfect. Still every bit the man who made me feel like I couldn’t exist without him.

But then... the nausea hit.

I woke up feeling like I’d been hit by a truck. My stomach churned, my head spun. It wasn’t just the usual grogginess from a late night or a heavy meal—it felt different. It was like my insides were in revolt.

I ignored it at first. Too much wine the night before, maybe? We’d been celebrating, taking our time, still reliving that trip.

But then, the morning sickness came.

It wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t just a little queasiness. It was full-on, head-spinning, stomach-turning nausea that wouldn’t quit. I stumbled to the bathroom, barely managing to make it to the sink before the contents of my stomach were violently rejected.

I stayed there for a while, eyes closed, forehead pressed against the cool porcelain, trying to shake the dizziness away.

But deep down, I knew.

I knew it wasn’t just a fluke. It wasn’t just food poisoning.

I stood up, wiping my mouth, feeling a strange tightness in my chest. The air seemed thicker, more suffocating, the weight of something I couldn’t ignore.

I reached for the pregnancy tests I had kept in the bathroom cabinet. They were meant to be for “just in case” moments. But now, I was certain they weren’t for a “just in case.”

They were for this.

The test was quick. It wasn’t even subtle. The lines turned pink almost immediately.

I stared at the stick in my hand.

Positive.

My heart began to pound in my chest. I dropped it back into the sink, pacing, trying to calm the panic rising in my throat. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.

I was pregnant.

After everything.

After all the carelessness. After the way we let desire dictate everything. After Ethan filling me—deep inside me—without any care for protection, for birth control, for timing.

I was pregnant.

I quickly grabbed another test. Same thing. Positive.

I sat back against the wall, still in a daze. My body had been screaming at me for the past few weeks, but I hadn’t listened. It felt like time had been moving so fast. And now… this. I was pregnant.

I leaned my head back against the wall, a mixture of fear and excitement twisting in my gut. How was I supposed to tell Ethan? How would he take this?

I looked at the clock. He’d be home in a few hours. I had time to pull myself together. But I wasn’t sure I could.

This wasn’t just about us anymore. This was real. There would be more than just the wild nights, the hot sex, the late-night laughs. There would be a future—whether we were ready or not.

---

When he came home later that day, his arms were around me the moment he stepped through the door, his lips pressing soft kisses to my neck. His usual warmth enveloped me, but today, I felt distant. Like something between us had shifted in the quiet space of those tests.

I pulled away gently, taking a step back.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his brow furrowing. He caught sight of the test sitting on the counter, and everything seemed to freeze.

I couldn’t breathe.

“I’m pregnant,” I whispered, the words hanging in the air like a declaration of war.

Ethan stood still for a long moment. I watched him, trying to read his face, trying to find the emotion I needed to hear. His expression was unreadable, his eyes wide, lips parted in disbelief.

“Is this real?” he finally asked, voice low and uncertain.

I nodded. “I didn’t plan it. I didn’t—I didn’t think it could happen.”

“You’re sure?” He moved closer, taking my hands in his, his fingers trembling slightly. “I mean… you’re sure?”

“Two tests,” I said, swallowing hard. “And I’ve been feeling off for weeks, Ethan. It’s real.”

He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly, like the weight of it was just starting to hit him. “We weren’t careful,” he said, his voice thick with a mix of awe and uncertainty.

“No,” I said, feeling the tears welling up in my eyes. “But... we can handle it. We can do this.”

He cupped my face, eyes dark with a mix of desire and something else—something deeper, more primal. “We can handle anything, baby.”

And then, just like that, his lips were on mine—fierce and demanding, as though he couldn’t stop himself. I kissed him back, feeling a hot rush of relief flood through me. Whatever happened, we were in this together.

---

That night, our passion was a different kind of wild. He kissed me with a kind of desperation, like he was trying to prove something to himself, to me, to us. His hands were everywhere, tugging at my clothes, pulling me closer as though he couldn’t bear to be apart for even a second.

We ended up on the floor, his fingers sliding inside me, so deep that it felt like he was claiming me from the inside out. He was rougher than usual, more frantic, as though the gravity of what was happening was only just now sinking in.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered between ragged breaths, pulling my hair back and staring down at me, his eyes wild with a mix of fear and lust.

“You won’t,” I promised, reaching for him, pulling him closer. “You won’t.”

We fucked like we were going to burn through the night, marking each other in every way possible—our way. But underneath the lust, there was something else: a deeper, more lasting connection.

And in that moment, it hit me. This was bigger than us. It was bigger than our wild getaway, our carelessness. This was forever. Whether we were ready or not.