'I'm worried about you.'

'Well you needn't.' She groans, applying her lipstick. 'Seriously Peter, it's not like I'm working properly.' Four times they've had this, she mentions that she has one tiny little headache, which she can attribute to her pending period, and he goes off on one. She only told him because he caught her taking some ibuprofen and asked why she needed it. She should have made it up, she'd hurt her wrist or something. Not that it would have made a difference, not really.

'Remember last time.'

'You won't let me forget it.' She hits back, making eye contact with the man lounging on her bed. 'Peter, seriously. I had a breakdown, yes, but I'm getting my life back. The factory won't run itself.'

'Carla.'

'Peter.' She mocks, 'please leave it. You 'ave a shift, you need to get changed.'

'It's not a laughing matter, you had a serious breakdown, I thought you were going to die.' He argues, 'this isn't a laughing matter.'

'I know.' She exasperates. 'Peter, I don't want to be there, you haven't been there, in that place. I don't want to walk down that road again, me 'aving a headache isn't leading me to have a relapse. Anyway, you were the one that said I shouldn't have given my shares away.'

'Okay, okay.' He concedes defeat. 'I love you; you know that.'

'I know baby. I love you too. Give me a kiss.' He gets up, kissing her quickly, pulling her into a hug. 'You've got too much aftershave on babe.' She whispers, 'see you later.'

-CS-

'Yeah Chelle, I'm good.' She grins, examining her nails, as her best friend chats on the other end of the phone. 'Although, I 'ave a bit of a headache.' She pauses as the voice down the line gives her, unsolicited, advice. 'No, no, Chelle I'll be fine. I know you don't agree with me being here, but it has been, what three months.'

'Mrs Connor?' A voice, calls, the woman sitting up, covering the phone with her hand.

'Two seconds, hiya Sarah, you okay?'

'I was wondering if you could look at this?' She thrusts a piece of paper in her face.

'Yeah, yeah.' She whispers, as she shuts the door, 'no, I'm not doing too much. I promise. Have you spoke t'Peter? He was on about it this morning, I'm due on my period Chelle, I am fine. That, and, I'm getting old.' She hears her best friend say something, 'well it's not like you're not getting on' she teases, 'please I'm not working too hard, trust me.' She gets a sigh from the other end, clearly not believing.

She groans as her friend goes on about how she needs to look after herself, like it isn't obvious. She needs to be trusted, it's like her group chat issue all over again. She was an adult; she could make all her decisions. She was better.

'Mrs Connor.' Another voice calls, 'do you want anything from the cake run?' She pauses, taking a moment to deliberate before shaking her head, she wasn't sure if she could stomach any food this morning. She was sure it was just because she was looking at underworlds accounts, a task that made her feel sick on a good day.

'No thank you.' She says, as her phone starts ringing, 'I've got to get this.' She tells them, then taking it as their queue to leave, 'hiya Jerry. What can I do for you?'

-CS-

'How was work?' He asks his partner, as she removes her make-up, concern lacing his voice. 'You're quiet tonight. Rubbish day in the office?'

'I think I'm coming down with something.' She admits, turning around to face him.

'Are you?'

'Hmm.' She nods, yawning. 'I think so.'

'You don't look well.'

'Thank you.' She rolls her eyes, 'maybe it's just my period. It must be my period.' He pulls a face, 'does it make you feel uncomfortable.' She laughs as he pulls a face, 'awh baby.'

'Shut up.' He blushes, 'are you okay though?'

'I think I'm going to have a nap.' She tells him, rubbing her temple gently, this headache not leaving.

'Are you sure that you won't step back to the factory?'

'Peter, leave it.' She hisses, changing into something more comfortable. 'C'mon, I want a nap before dinner, that might help. I did have a shift tonight, but Johnny took me off. See, I'm not working too hard.'

'Well that's debatable.' She hears his whisper, pulling her into a hug. 'I'm just worried.'

-CS-

'You not eating that?' She shakes her head, looking at her plate. She feels terrible, he's spent the last hour cooking for them, whilst she slept, but she can't eat it. It had smelt great and she felt terrible. 'I'm coming down with something, aye you better watch out. Sleep in the spare room, or I can, so that you don't catch it.'

'No, it's fine. If you have something, I've probably got it. Anyway, you need to be careful, with your kidney. I mean we sleep together.' He points out, brushing a stray piece of hair out of the way, he has a point, if she had caught something, he, undoubtedly, had it.

'I know, I know.' She tries, standing up, a wave of dizziness hitting her.

'Look, you're doing too much.'

'Peter.' She warns, anger seeping into her voice. 'Leave it.'

'At least go to bed, please.' She nods, yawning. 'I'll bring you in a drink and your pills.'

'Thanks Peter.' She whispers, finally admitting defeat, yawning as she heads towards her bedroom, not even bothering to change, falling straight into bed. She dozes off, only becoming aware of her surroundings as she is gently woken up.

'Ah you sure you're okay?'

'Mm. I'm just coming down with something.' She tells him, grabbing the glass of water he's offering her.

-CS-

'You still not feeling well? Do you want me to-do the shift tonight?'

'No, no.' She tells him, 'I'm feeling a bit better. I can do a shift at the pub, Johnny needs me.'

'Carla, you have a bug. You can't work.' She shakes her head furiously, for some reason she can feel hot tears start to pool her eyes, as she furiously rubbing her eyes, trying to hide the fact she's about to cry for no apparent reason. She knows he'll tell her that she can't cope, bursting into tears will just prove it. At least, in his opinion, which will become everyone else's opinion. Like she isn't better, that she can't have a bad day without someone else thinking it's more sinister.

'I was sick once; it was just once. And I've had the 24 hours. I need to go to work.'

'Carla, it's not your factory.' He points out, infuriating her a little bit more, that was a low blow.

'What do you want me to say?' She snaps, not feeling guilty. She was sick of this, sick of the fussing, 'you want me to tell Nick that he can't be there for Leanne, for her terminally ill son.'

'Carla, I'm worried about you. I am worried about your health. Nicks personal problems aren't anything to-do with you. You're the one I care about.'

'Oh, fuck off.' She tells him, slamming the front door. 'you're a moron.'

-CS-

Her mouse deliberates over the incognito browser on the computer, biting her lip. She knew that she could find this elsewhere, if she went to the shops, she could find it, but she didn't want to bump into anyone. It would be embarrassing, especially if her concern was wrong.

Secrets don't stay secrets for long in Weatherfield.

And she didn't need anyone to know, it's probably just stress. That's normal, when you're stressed, your period can be late. That's what she tells herself, for the first week. Being back in the factory, having to work out social distancing. And it was coming up to that date. The due date of their baby girl. It was the end of October now; her baby was due in early November. She'd be six, she sometimes wondered what she would be like, what being a mum would be like. Maybe that's what made her think it could be this. It probably wouldn't be, it was more likely to be the menopause.

Yet, she still found herself ordering one on prime, along with a new phone case. She tells herself that she's only buying it because she's not pregnant and she needs to know that. It was far better than the alternative.

The parcel comes the next day, Peter taking it and leaving it on the side for when she gets home. She sat there for a good twenty minutes, telling herself that she was messaging Michelle to reassure her that she wasn't just putting the next off. Though, the rising nausea burning inside her, her heart banging a mile a minute. She had to take the test, to put her mind at ease, she's not pregnant.

Then she can't do a wee. She is just sitting there. Maybe it was that she hadn't had her usual amount of coffee over the last few days. She told her that it was because she didn't need it, it wasn't helping her headaches. That's why she didn't have the usual black coffees. She couldn't have a wee because she hadn't had her coffee and not because of nerves.

The she does it, spending the time waiting for the test looking at herself in the mirror, examining the bags under her eyes from the nights of broken sleep.

Then the door bangs open, frightening her, as she clutches the test to her chest, taking a deep breath before looking at the stick.

She must have made a noise, a noise that she was unaware of, because Peter suddenly appears.

'Carla are you-' He stops himself, taking in the sight. The clear blue packet splayed on the side, next to the sink. His girlfriend staring at a stick in her hands, her face as white as the stick. 'Okay?' He whispers, his brain catching up to the sight before him.

'P-P-Peter.' She stumbles, as he looks at her, edging closer as she shudders, as he backs off. Worried he's scaring her.

'Carla, is that what I think it is?' She nods, he notices that her cheeks are wet, he wants to go over and wipe them, but he doesn't want to scare her.

'There's two lines, Peter.' She finally breathes, her eyes meeting his, 'there two lines.'

A/N thoughts? Has anyone else read the article which hints that the thing that will split Peter and Carla up is Peter sleeping with Toyah? I actually can't. I read it and just though ffs… I'm hoping it's just a clickbait article, but I wouldn't put it past them at this point…. Or if they intended it too, I can hope that social distancing puts an end to this…