My parents' house looked exactly the same as it always did the perfectly manicured lawn, the flower boxes my mother obsessed over, the welcome mat that said "Blessed and Grateful." But standing on the front porch with Ethan beside me, his hand gripping mine like a lifeline, it felt like walking into a war zone.
"We could run," Ethan suggested, only half-joking. "Get in the car, drive to Mexico, start new lives as beach vendors."
"Tempting." I rang the doorbell, my stomach doing nervous flips that had nothing to do with morning sickness. "But my dad would find us. He watches a lot of those crime shows."
The door swung open, and my mother stood there in her usual elegant cashmere sweater and pearls, her expression unreadable.
"Mira. Ethan." Her eyes moved between us, lingering on our joined hands. "Come in."
The house smelled like jasmine tea and my mother's signature lavender sachets. My father sat in his leather armchair in the living room, his reading glasses perched on his nose, looking every bit the intimidating corporate lawyer he'd been before retirement.
"Sit," he said, his voice measured and calm which was somehow more terrifying than if he'd been yelling.
We sat on the couch across from them, and I felt like I was sixteen again, caught sneaking in past curfew.
"So," my mother began, folding her hands in her lap. "We received a very interesting phone call yesterday from a young woman named Jessica Morrison. She had quite a story to tell."
"Mom"
"She said you're pregnant," my father interrupted, his eyes boring into mine. "With Ethan's child. Is that true?"
The room felt too small suddenly, the air too thick.
"Yes," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "It's true."
My mother's composure cracked slightly, her hand moving to her chest. "Oh, Mira."
"How far along?" my father asked, his lawyer voice in full effect.
"Seven weeks."
"And you two are…?" My mother gestured vaguely between us.
"Together," Ethan said firmly, his hand squeezing mine. "We're together."
My father's eyebrow raised. "As of when? Because this Jessica woman seemed quite convinced she was dating Ethan until very recently."
Ethan shifted uncomfortably. "It's complicated, Mr. Chen."
"Uncomplicate it."
I'd never heard my father use that tone with Ethan before. They'd always gotten along Sunday football games, discussions about vintage cars, jokes about my terrible cooking. Now, my father looked at him like he was a stranger.
"Ethan and I have been best friends for seven years," I started, trying to take control of the narrative. "And about six weeks ago, we… we crossed a line. It was unexpected, and we tried to go back to being just friends, but"
"You got pregnant," my father finished flatly.
"Yes." I lifted my chin. "I got pregnant. It wasn't planned, but it happened. And I'm keeping the baby."
"Of course you're keeping the baby," my mother said, as if there was never any other option. "But Mira, honey, do you understand what this means? You're twenty-nine, single"
"She's not single," Ethan interjected. "I'm here. I'm committed to this."
My father leaned forward. "Committed how? Are you proposing marriage?"
"Dad!" I felt my face heat. "This isn't the 1950s. We don't have to get married just because"
"I would marry her," Ethan said quietly, and the room went silent.
I turned to stare at him. "What?"
He looked at me, his green eyes serious. "I would marry you, Mira. In a heartbeat. If that's what you wanted."
My mother made a small sound, her hand moving to cover her mouth.
"But I don't want you to marry me because you feel like you have to," I said, my heart hammering. "I don't want you to marry me because I'm pregnant."
"What if that's not the only reason?" His thumb traced circles on the back of my hand. "What if I'm asking because I love you?"
"You're asking?" My voice came out as a squeak.
"No." He laughed softly, shaking his head. "No, I'm not proposing. Not like this, not in your parents' living room while your dad looks like he wants to murder me. But Mira, I want you to know marriage isn't some burden to me. It's not a trap or an obligation.
If and when I ask, it'll be because it's what I want. What we want."
I couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe.
My father cleared his throat. "That's a pretty speech, son. But words are easy. What I need to know is what your plan is. How are you going to support my daughter and grandchild?"
"I have a good job," Ethan said, straightening his shoulders. "I'm a senior architect at Morrison & Kane. I make six figures, I have health insurance, a 401k. I own my apartment outright no mortgage. Financially, I can provide for them."
"And emotionally?" my mother asked softly. "Can you provide for them emotionally, Ethan? Because a baby isn't just about money. It's about being there. Being present. Being a partner."
Ethan was quiet for a moment, and I could see him choosing his words carefully. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared. I've never been a father before. I've never been in a serious relationship. But Mrs. Chen, I love your daughter. I have for years. And I'm not going anywhere."
"You loved her for years?" My father's eyes narrowed. "Yet you dated other women? Including this Jessica?"
"Because I was a coward," Ethan admitted. "Because I was afraid that if I told Mira how I felt and she didn't feel the same way, I'd lose my best friend. So I tried to move on. I tried to find someone else. But I couldn't, because" His voice caught. "Because it was always her. It's always been her."
My mother's eyes were misty now, and even my father's expression had softened slightly.
"And you, Mira?" my mother asked. "How do you feel about all this?"
"I love him too," I said simply. "I've loved him for three years. We've just been really stupid about it."
"Clearly," my father muttered, but there was the hint of a smile on his face now.
"So let me get this straight," my mother said, leaning back in her chair. "You two have been in love with each other for years, finally acted on it, got pregnant, and are only now admitting your feelings?"
When she put it like that, it sounded ridiculous.
"Yes?" I offered weakly.
My father sighed heavily. "You're right. You have been stupid. Both of you."
"Dad"
"But," he continued, holding up a hand, "I can't say I'm entirely surprised. Your mother and I have been waiting for you two to figure it out for years now."
I blinked. "What?"
My mother smiled. "Sweetheart, we're not blind. We've seen the way you look at each other. The way Ethan is always here for Sunday dinners, the way you light up when he walks in a room. We've been placing bets on when you'd finally get together."
"You've been betting on us?" Ethan sounded amused.
"I said by New Year's," my mother admitted. "Your father said Valentine's Day. Neither of us predicted a pregnancy announcement, though."