After everyone had given their greetings and caught up on what had happened since their Christmas visit, dinner time started to come around, forcing everyone upstairs to get fancied up for Barelli's.

Topanga sighed as she ran a hairbrush through her thick, tangled hair and adjusted the temperature on her hair straightener. As much as she enjoyed spending time over dinner with her family and friends, Barelli's wasn't exactly her favorite place to do so. The restaurant was very proper and fancy, so getting ready to go there was always a painful hassle.

What was bugging her even more about it was the fact that Cory had only taken 5 minutes to get ready, as he only had to give his hair a short comb and quickly jump into a suit. Guys were luckier than they realized, because it took them so little time to prepare for anything, whereas girls were always the ones who made their husbands wait as they finished their makeup and messed with their hair.

Or maybe Topanga's extra agitation that night had to do with the fact that she wasn't really feeling very well in the first place. Ever since their lunch stop at Chubbie's, she had been struggling with a little nausea.

Assuming her burger just wasn't sitting right with her, Topanga tried to ignore it and enjoy talking with her family. Nevertheless, as dinner time drew closer, her nausea was still hanging around, along with the sudden pains of a growing headache.

Rubbing little circles in her temples, Topanga grimaced as she finished getting ready, flipping off the light in the bathroom of their guest bedroom and sitting beside Cory, who was stretched out on the bed while enjoying a brief TV break.

"You finally ready to leave, darling?" Cory said as he turned off the TV, using his strange pronunciation of the word 'darling' by leaving off the 'r'.

"I think so..." Topanga said, still massaging her temples. "Hey, Cory, do I feel warm to you? Feel my head—"

Frowning in concern, Cory laid his palm against her forehead, then shook his head. "No, you feel fine. Why? Are you feeling sick?"

"A little bit..." Topanga responded.

"Do we need to stay here?"

"I don't think so. I just think Chubbie's isn't sitting well with me."

Still giving her an uneasy look, Cory agreed and joined everyone downstairs for the drive to Barelli's.

Sliding into a couple booths with everyone, Topanga glanced around at the scene; it was in high school when she had last eaten here. Every table was covered in a spotless, snow white table cloth, along with a lit candle neatly placed in the middle with menus fancily arranged around it.

Everyone around them wore suits and dresses, politely smiling and laughing with each other as they all daintily scooped bites of salad or rare sirloins into their mouths. It always bothered Topanga when she came to there, because she felt like once she had taken her seat and was surrounded by classy, courteous people, she felt constantly uptight and overly aware of how she acted.

Tonight was especially uncomfortable, as sitting in a tight dress and holding her shoulders back properly was the last thing she wanted on her mind while feeling so nauseous and achey.

However, it was her turn to order, and she hadn't even had time to convince herself to eat anything at all.

"Topanga, you just wanna split something? We could divide up a steak and salad." Cory offered, knowing that his wife wasn't feeling very well.

"Umm, sure, that sounds good." Topanga replied.

After choking down dinner and a bit of dessert, Topanga could barley hold it all down long enough to get back home. She was also uneasily aware that Cory kept turning his attention off the road to glance at her, which only made her feel even more nauseous.

"Topanga," Cory began cautiously as Topanga shut her eyes and started inhaling slowly. "Are you okay?"

Without opening her eyes, Topanga continued breathing deeply as she nodded. "I'll be fine, just-just...could you break the speed limit a little, please?"

Cory started as she said that, pressing on the gas a little harder and anxiously scanning the area for a gas station. "Here, I'll pull over at the next gas station, alright?"

Soon enough, Cory had stopped the car and was kneeling down on one knee, supporting Topanga with his firm grasp while she threw up in the dark, back lot of a gas station.

As her vomiting decreased from dry heaving to a finish, Topanga began panting as she tried to catch her breath, planting her palm into the gravely ground to support her shaking body. Cory rubbed his wife's arms and softly murmured reassuring words to her as she calmed down.

"You okay now, honey?" Cory said, helping her to her feet and sitting her on the hood of their car.

Topanga breathlessly nodded, pulling her hair behind her back as she checked her dress for any regurgitated Barelli's.

Cory gently sat next to her, slowly rubbing her back as he concernedly eyed her. Sliding his hand up the back of her neck and stretching his free hand towards her forehead, he checked to see if Topanga had a fever now.

"You still don't feel like you have a fever."

"I don't think I do." Topanga said. "Hey, what did you have at Chubbie's earlier today?"

"I had the same thing you ordered."

Well, that scratched food poisoning off the list. Mentally scanning over the remaining options, Topanga could only come up with two conclusions: she had picked up a stomach bug before coming into Philly, or she was—

'Yeah, right,' Topangascoffed inside her head at the idea of pregnancy. She had been telling Cory only a few hours ago that when the time would come, she would know it had arrived, and she didn't truly know at the moment.

As she continued to think about it, however, the idea started to become more believable. It had been awhile since she had had her-well, you get the picture. She had also been feeling a little off lately; what if she actually was pregnant?

Suddenly, Topanga started feeling overwhelmed with nausea again, and she wasn't sure if it was from the possibility of being pregnant or from whatever illness she was currently fighting with.

"I'm gonna be sick again—" Topanga said, jumping off the hood and separating herself at a good distance from the car, Cory hurrying behind her as she was forced on the ground with the convulsions once more.