November

Phil was sat at the kitchen table, marking a load of books for his first year class, when he heard the sound of footsteps padding down the stairs.

He knew Melinda was already in the front room, so it must have been Lola, and his thoughts were confirmed when she stopped in the kitchen doorway, and spoke to him.

"Daddy," she mumbled, sucking her thumb and staring at him with a sad expression on her face.

"What's up sweetheart?"

When she didn't reply, Phil glanced up from the books to look at her properly, and immediately placed his pen back onto the table, rising from his seat and crouching down beside her, knowing that something wasn't quite right.

She was pale, almost grey, and from the way her fringe was stuck to her forehead he could tell she was sweaty. Lola swayed a little in front of him, and he reached out to hold her steady, lifting a hand to feel her temple.

He frowned.

"I think you've got a temperature, Lo" he told her softly, sighing before picking her up, letting her rest her head against his shoulder. He carried her through into the living room with him, and sat her on his lap as he lowered himself onto the sofa.

Melinda was sat on the other end of it, and she grabbed the tv remote, turning the volume of her programme right down, before looking at them both anxiously.

"What's up?" she asked, watching in concern as Lola flopped against her dad, unable to find the strength to sit up properly on her own.

"I'm pretty sure she's got a temperature," Phil muttered, frowning before checking her forehead again. "Lo, do you feel unwell?"

"Sick" she mumbled, before pushing her face against his shoulder and letting out a small sob.

"I'll go get a bucket" Melinda told him quietly, standing from the sofa and stretching her legs. "You want me to get a blanket or something too?"

Phil shook his head, stroking his daughter's hair and holding her close whilst she cried almost silently against his shirt. "No, thank you… I think I'll put her straight into bed."

With that he stood up once more, lifting Lola up with him. She weakly wrapped both arms around his neck, and he smiled sadly at Melinda as he passed her, before carrying his daughter up the stairs.

He tucked her into bed, where she lay quietly, occasionally snuffling, and sometimes whimpering. Phil sat next to her, talking quietly about dragons and mermaids and whatever else he could think of to try and take her mind off things.

When Melinda brought a bucket upstairs, knocking softly on the door before entering, she accompanied it with a bottle of calpol, suggesting it might reduce the fever, if she could keep it down…

Lola spent the next few days clammy and pale, occasionally throwing up, and generally feeling miserable. Phil fussed over her more than Melinda had ever seen him do before, but she watched with a smile; it was lovely to see him being such a wonderful father.

After a trip to the doctors, Lola was diagnosed with the same sickness bug that had been going round her class at school.

She spent the next couple of days feeling sorry for herself, and Phil took her soup – which she didn't drink – and he read to her, quietly speaking the words he knew by heart from her favourite books as she lay curled up in their bed.

He'd let her sleep in their room with them for a few nights, because her fever kept waking her up disorientated and confused; when he put the idea to her, Melinda had agreed she was probably better off staying with them during that time.

On the Monday morning, three days after her doctor's visit, Lola was still too poorly to attend school, and Phil was taking his class on a trip so was unable to stay back and care for her.

Melinda took the day off work instead, and remained at home with her, stroking her forehead and softly talking to her as she whimpered in confusion. The medicine prescribed helped lower her fever, but not by much, and as Melinda let her watch television with her on the sofa, Lola snuggled up under her duvet, leaning against Melinda as they sat through an animated series about - ironically - hospitals.

Melinda suggested it was probably not been the best thing to have chosen when she was ill, the animated people wandering through wards and bandaging up injuries, but Lola seemed to like it.

She finally managed to fall asleep later that afternoon, on top of Melinda, having at some point clambered into her lap, and Melinda didn't have the heart to wake her up again just to put her into bed.

She simply dragged Lola's quilt across the sofa, and covered both of them up with it, before changing channels, flicking through to find something - anything - that would hold her interest for a while. She felt her eyelids drooping after a while, and decided a nap wouldn't be such a bad thing…

Phil came home that night to find them both sound asleep on the sofa still, curled up together under Lola's duvet.

If he took a photograph to show them later, he kept it quiet.

When Phil threw up four days later, Lola was inexplicably a lot more excited than he was.

Having recovered from her own bug, she appeared to have passed it on to him, and whilst Phil was glad his daughter was finally better, he was less than impressed that he had managed to catch it himself.

Lola got to pretend to be nurse, like she'd seen in the show Melinda had watched with her, and despite Phil insisting he was fine - he wasn't - Lola was adamant she had to check his temperature and listen to his heartbeat, multiple times per day. Phil allowed her to, grudgingly, and Lola continued telling him to "get some rest" and "take your medicine."

Melinda smirked, all too happy to encourage Lola's actions, but when Phil caught her watching them she scurried off to cook his daughter some tea.

Phil came down the stairs an hour later, and stood in the kitchen doorway, watching them sat eating chicken and rice together, and smiled. Despite the fact he was throwing up each day, Lola loved getting to look after him, and it gave Melinda and her and chance to spend more time together, alone.

On the fourth morning of his sickness bout, Phil awoke early, before their alarm, and after sitting up and realising he finally felt slightly better, wondered what it had been that had dragged him into consciousness.

The sound of coughing from the bathroom gave him all he needed to know, and he rolled over, finding Melinda's spot in the bed empty.

Clearly it was her turn.

When the bathroom door opened, a very pale Melinda wandered out, climbing back into bed, still nauseous and quietly cursing Lola for making her sick. She knew it wasn't her fault really, but as she'd been ill first, it was technically her fault for bringing it into the house.

Phil pulled her against him and held her, feeling her pulse raising and pressing kisses along her temple.

"You'll be okay," he murmured softly, stroking her hair from her face as she looked up at him with tired eyes. "It feels awful, but it's just a few days."

"I don't feel ill ill, though." she complained quietly, sighing as she shivered a little under the sheets. "I just don't feel right."

"Maybe your immune system is stronger than ours," he suggested, resting their foreheads together. "You're probably fighting it off better than us."

She grunted something incomprehensible in response, and rolled over, burying her face into the pillow as his alarm began to go off, signalling it being time to start getting both himself and Lola ready for their respective schools.

It looked like she'd be the one missing work today.

Phil exited the classroom with a smile on his face.

He'd just been to Lola's first ever Parent's Evening.

Because she was still so young, it had really been more of a casual chat about how she was settling into the routine of school, and what kind of topics they had been covering, alongside her teacher's initial thoughts about her development over the past couple of months.

Her teacher, Miss Hand - who coincidentally had been a guest at Maria's wedding earlier in the year - had been thrilled with Lola, and had praised not only her eagerness to learn new things, but also her friendliness towards the other children in her class, always sharing things with fellow pupils, and talking to them politely, and never answering back if she didn't get her way with something.

It had been the latter few things that Phil had always had slight worries about. Seeing as she had been raised mainly among adults, with no other children to socialise with before she began playgroup and swimming the year before, he'd had concerns that Lola may not have known how to interact with other children properly. But his worries had been brushed aside as Miss Hand presented her glowing report, and he knew he would have to tell Lola just how proud of her he was, as soon as he returned home.

Phil strolled through the corridors of his daughter's school, coming to a stop just after he entered the assembly hall, a display board of colourful work catching his eye on the wall beside him. The border along the top read "Family Paintings; Class 1A", and he knew that was Lola's class. With a flash, he remembered her working on her own entry a few weeks before; she hadn't let him see it whilst she was painting it, and then had taken it into school before he'd had the chance once it was finished.

Curiosity getting the better of him, his eyes skimmed across all the pieces of work on the board, before they came to rest on an image at the top right. The nameplate below read "Lola Coulson", and as he looked at her artwork, Phil felt a strange feeling of both pride and sorrow, all mixed into one.

There was a strip of blue across the top of the page, representing sky, and green along the bottom, which he assumed was grass. Stood painted upon it, were three figures.

There was a man in the middle, whom he recognised immediately as himself, wearing glasses, a white tee-shirt, and jeans, and smiling a large cheesy grin.

To the left of him, holding his hand, was a little girl, wild caramel coloured hair flowing around her head, and a pink dress with white polkadots onto it covering her body. She of course was meant to be Lola - he even recognised the dress as one his mother had bought her for her birthday.

On the other side of the painting of himself, was a lady, with black hair and black clothes, drawn slightly shorter than himself, but taller than Lola. Lola had painted her holding Phil's hand on one side, and a cupcake in the other, and he grinned - Melinda.

She'd be so happy to know Lola considered her part of her family.

But it was the image above the three of them, just below the strip of blue sky, that sent a small punch into his stomach.

It was unmistakably meant to be the figure of an angel, with gold wings, a halo, and blonde hair, smiling out of the page as she looked over the other residents below her.

Audrey.

He swallowed.

"She's very artistic," a voice announced from behind him, making Phil almost jump as he turned to see who was there. Miss Hand smiled apologetically to have startled him, before looking again at the picture Lola had painted. "Every time we get the paints out, she is always so engrossed in what she is doing."

Phil nodded, glad to at least know who had followed him out of the corridor. "She's exactly the same at home. It's either painting, playing with toy dragons, or baking with Mel."

Miss Hand touched the picture carefully with a manicured finger, tapping against the female character. "I assume this is Mel then?"

He nodded again, pulling his phone out of his pocket, and folding his arms in front of him. "Yeah, she's my… girlfriend. Lola adores her."

"She talks about her a lot," Miss Hand admitted, and Phil turned to face her, curiosity burning.

"What kind of things does she say?"

She smiled, and tucked a stray pink strand behind her ear. "All sorts really. She was telling the class last week about how you both took her trick-or-treating on Halloween, and she managed to convince her to dress as Agent Carter, from the Captain America comics?"

Phil grinned, and she continued.

"And I overheard her telling a friend the other day how Melinda buys her cutters so they can make biscuits together, which apparently she loves to do."

He made a mental note to tell Melinda that, as well as see if she remembered Miss Hand from Maria's hen party and wedding, when he returned home that evening.

"It's good to see a child so well adjusted," she continued quietly, her tone slipping into one more saddened as she glanced back to the picture, her gaze resting on the angel Lola had drawn above them all. "It must've be hard, dealing with everything you both had thrown at you."

Phil looked sideways at her, wondering how much of her life story Lola had actually confessed to her teacher, but Miss Hand simply shook her head placatingly.

"Oh don't worry," she held her hands up in front of her, and pressed her lips together, shaking her head. "I don't know any details if that's what you're worried about. I just asked about her painting during class, and she told me the angel was her mom."

Phil nodded, not wanting to go into too much detail, and turned back to the paintings.

However a few seconds later, he realised it would probably be useful if her teacher did know about her past, just to prevent any awkward or upsetting moments in the future, if for example a stray comment was made unassumingly about car safety, or road accidents.

"Her mother - Audrey - she was killed in a car accident several years ago," he murmured, not meeting her gaze as he stared through the pictures. "Lola was only a baby at the time, but I try to ensure she knows about her… knows who she was."

"I'm very sorry to hear that," Miss Hand told him earnestly. "It's never easy to lose somebody we love, especially in such terrible circumstances."

"Thank you," he replied, truly appreciating her words.

She didn't ask any more questions, and he didn't offer extra details, and after a few moments of companionable silence, she turned to him once more.

"If you don't mind, I shall leave you to it," she announced quietly, adjusting her glasses slightly on her nose. "I have to get back to the classroom before my next appointment arrives. Again, it was lovely to meet you, Mr Coulson."

With that she nodded, before moving around him and opening one of the large wooden doors Phil had walked through on his way into the hall.

"I was wondering," he said quickly, pointing to the pictures beside him as she turned back to face him. "When this display is removed, could I possibly have her painting back?"

Miss Hand smiled, immediately understanding why he would want it. "Of course. I'll make sure it gets back to you."

"Thank you."

He watched as she walked off through the doors, and he turned back to the wall, opening his phone camera and holding it up so he could get a shot of the picture. It was always good to have a backup copy.

Just in case.

Melinda wasn't exactly sure how it had happened, but on the third weekend of November, she found herself back at her old flat, helping Natasha's new room-mate Sharon move in.

Natasha had somehow managed to convince her that it was necessary to be there, and in fairness, she'd ended up with nothing else to do that day anyway.

Phil had promised Lola he would take her to the cinema that afternoon, to watch a new movie she'd seen advertised on the television, whilst recovering from her sickness bug. They'd asked Melinda if she wanted to accompany them, but she'd decided to stay at home, having woken with a pressing headache, and opted for a day of relaxation to herself.

She was looking forward to having the house to herself too, until Natasha's avalanche of messages and phone calls arrived, bombarding her with information and requests and pleading.

A hot shower and several painkillers later, she ended up giving up on her day of peace, and walking around to the old flat, her arrival coinciding with that of a small white removal van pulling up outside the building.

Natasha bounded down the front stairs and into the street to greet her new roomie, followed closely behind by Clint, and Melinda watched with a small smile as - presumably - Sharon climbed out from the van, only to get accosted by Natasha as soon as her feet touched the pavement.

She walked over to join them.

"Hey Mel!" called Natasha, waving over to her as Clint opened up the back of the van, revealing surprisingly few boxes of possessions. She arrived just in time to hear Sharon insisting Clint didn't need to help carry her things upstairs for her.

"… seriously, I can manage, you don't have to."

"It's no problem, " he lifted the closest box from the van, and took a step backwards. "Anyway, Tash basically blackmailed me into helping, so I'm here now."

Sharon laughed, and Natasha just winked at her, before turning to face Melinda.

"Mel, this is Sharon," she turned to look at her new roommate. "Sharon, this is Mel, she used to live with me, until she decided to shack up with her boyfriend and abandon me."

"Hey!" Melinda gasped, mock glaring at Natasha as Sharon watched them in amusement. "I did not abandon you, I just…"

"Abandoned me?" Natasha offered, grinning again, before shaking her head. "It's fine, you're forgiven, for now."

Melinda rolled her eyes at her as Natasha glanced back towards the van, checking how many boxes they would be carrying upstairs with them, before turning to Sharon.

"It's lovely to meet you," she told her, smiling as she took in her appearance. "Nat said you're a nurse?"

"Likewise, and yeah," Sharon smiled, pulling a hair-tie off her wrist and fastening up her blonde locks. "I work at Sitwell General Hospital, been there a few years now."

"Enjoy it?"

She nodded, reaching around to the back of the van, and lifted out a cardboard box labelled "clothes". Melinda didn't miss the way Natasha's eyes flitted to the box and away; she would undoubtedly take any cast-offs out of Sharon's hands if she decided to clear out her wardrobe at some point during her stay.

"It's good, but tiring. This is my first Saturday off in weeks."

"Ouch."

"Yeah, but it's interesting," she continued, as Melinda herself pulled a box labelled "bedding & furnishings" from the back of the van, and after Natasha telling them she would wait outside so Sharon's possessions weren't left unattended, the two began to head up the stairs and into the building. "I mean, I've been in the emergency department for the past few weeks, but on Monday, I start a rotation in the infectious disease ward."

They reached the top of the stairs in time to meet Clint heading back down, and as the two walked into the flat, Melinda realised she hadn't been inside since the day she moved out. It was a weird and slightly surreal feeling.

A few steps later, and a wave of dizziness washed over her.

"Are you okay?" Sharon asked, placing the box she was carrying down onto the living room floor. "You've gone really pale."

Melinda nodded, breathing deeply, and feeling the stab of her headache return; clearly the tablets she had taken earlier were beginning to wear off. "I had a sickness bug last week," she explained, trying to reassure Sharon she was okay. "And then I had a pretty bad headache this morning, it's just remnants of that."

She smiled a little, convincing her there was nothing to worry about, and Sharon opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by Natasha wandering in, arms laden with two of the smaller boxes.

"Do you want your films in your room, or in here?" Natasha asked, coming to a stop next to the pair of them, and Melinda could see that the boxes had the word "movies" scrawled across them in black marker pen.

"In here, if that's okay?" Sharon replied, turning her attention back to the moving. "I've not got a huge amount of stuff; I've never really settled in a place for long enough to acquire a load of material possessions."

"This is the last box" Clint announced, entering the flat and closing the door behind him. "And it weighs a ton… what's in it?"

"Books" Sharon replied apologetically, ushering him to put it down. "Thank you."

"No problem… anybody want a drink? I'm parched."

With three unanimous responses, he headed off the the kitchen, and Melinda could hear the clink of glasses as he rummaged around in the cupboards; she was struck with how comfortable he was in the flat, and she wondered how often he actually was there.

In a way, it had surprised her when Natasha said Sharon was moving in with her. Despite the short length of their relationship, she'd had a slight feeling Clint might have moved in - the two were definitely made for one another…

An hour later, and the majority of Sharon's possessions were unpacked. Her clothing was in the wardrobe, her sheets on the bed, and her toiletries in the bathroom.

"Am I alright to use your phone?" Sharon asked after a while, turning to look at Natasha, who was crouched on the floor in front of the sofa, reading the titles off all of the DVD's Sharon had brought with her and added to the collection. "Or would you prefer if I used mobile?"

"You can use it, no problem" she nodded, glancing up from the selection of films now stacked against the television stand. "It's in the kitchen"

"Okay, thanks." Sharon returned to the cardboard box in front of her, and continued unpacking books, handing them gratefully to Melinda, who lined them up on the shelf in the corner, in alphabetical order by author name. They were mostly spy thrillers, with a few crime novels and a couple of chick-lits thrown in too, and seeing them all reminded Melinda she needed to start reading again; it was something she loved almost as much as tai-chi, but recently, just like the latter, she had been neglecting it.

"I need to call my aunt," Sharon continued, pulling the last of the worn paperbacks from the box. "Let her know I've arrived and unpacked… she'll worry otherwise."

"Does she live nearby?" Natasha asked, rising from the floor and throwing herself onto the sofa, practically landing on Clint, who had given up helping earlier on, and was watching a sports match on the tv on mute.

Which was ironic, really.

Sharon nodded. "Yeah, she… she lives in a home a few miles away. She has early onset alzheimers, so she often forgets I've called, or she'll think I'm going round when I'm not."

"That must be hard to deal with" Clint told her, tearing his eyes away from the screen to rejoin their conversation. Melinda listened from the side of the room, adding the final books to the shelf, before heading over to sit on a beanbag in the corner; she was dizzy again, but she wasn't about to bring it up.

"It is," Sharon agreed, sighing as she glanced between them all. "But she led an amazing life - still is doing - and I love going to see her. She's so strong and independent, she's definitely a role model for me."

Melinda watched Sharon and Natasha interacting so easily, and smiled to herself. She had a feeling the two would be pretty good friends in no time…

"Are you excited to meet your new cousin Lola?"

Phil, Melinda and Lola were all sat at the kitchen table, enjoying an evening meal of wholegrain pasta in arrabiata sauce. Phil had made it from scratch when he arrived home from work, having been in the mood to prepare a meal all day. He'd walked in, rolled his sleeves up, and begun chopping and simmering vegetables, reducing them down to create the sauce.

The whole room was filled with the aroma of basil, from the leaves he had pulled off the small plant in the kitchen window, although Lola had taken one look at the green leaf on her plate and moved it to one side with a look of such disgust that Melinda had laughed out loud.

She nodded in response to his question.

"How long until the baby comes?" Lola asked, a forkful of pasta half chewed in her mouth. Phil frowned, and she covered it with her hand whilst she continued eating.

"It's due in January" he replied, before wondering if she had any concept of how far away that was.

"Just after Christmas" Melinda added helpfully, seemingly reading his mind, and Lola nodded in understanding; she knew that Christmas was in a few weeks, because a) all the shops had started putting decorations up, and b) her dad had recently asked if there was anything she would be asking Santa for this year.

"Will it be a girl cousin or a boy cousin?"

Melinda looked up to Phil when he didn't reply immediately, and found him halfway through a piece of garlic bread, so she replied for him.

"They don't know. It's a surprise."

Lola nodded again, before twirling pasta around on her fork. "Will it be like having a brother or sister?"

"Erm," Phil pondered for a moment. "Not exactly, it will be more like having a really good friend that you know right from when they are born."

"You said I might get a brother or sister one day," Lola replied, and Phil practically spat his drank across the table. He'd known this conversation would return to bite him in the ass.

"Lola…"

"But you did," she frowned at him. "Didn't you?"

Phil sighed. "Yes, I did." He wasn't sure he wanted to look at Melinda right now, but he was pretty certain she would be glaring at him. "But it's not that simple Lo."

"Why not?"

"Because. We're not trying to… I mean, we aren't…" Phil attempted, swirling pasta around his plate without meeting his daughter's gaze, and wishing he hadn't brought it up. "Auntie Maria and Uncle Steve, they are married, and they chose to have a baby."

"Can't you choose to?"

"I… Mel, are you okay?"

Phil had finally glanced up, hoping for some assistance or reassurance he was telling his daughter the right thing, only to see the colour drain from Melinda's face in front of his eyes. She was white, and he was suddenly very tempted to cross the table and make sure she didn't collapse.

She nodded meekly, dropping her fork onto her plate with a clatter. "I… I don't feel very well," she murmured, before rising from the table. "I have to go upstairs."

Without another word, and avoiding eye contact with both of them, she moved around the table, leaning slightly on the wooden surface for support as she went, before she left the room, practically hurrying away from them both.

Phil frowned, halfway out of his seat to follow her, and listened to her footsteps as she climbed the stairs. But she didn't go to the bathroom like he thought she would if she was feeling sick again. From the sound of it, she had locked herself in their bedroom.

That was odd.

He sat back down, and turned to Lola again, who was pushing pasta around her plate with a worried expression on her face.

"I'm sorry" she whispered, looking like she might begin crying at any moment. "I made her sad."

Phil was struck by how her final comment sounded so innocent, before remembering with a sigh that she was in fact only five years old. Of course she would ask questions and be curious - it wasn't her fault.

"No you didn't," he replied, smiling at her in what he hoped was a comforting manner. "She's just not very well, you remember how you had your tummy bug the other week?"

Lola nodded.

"Well Mel caught it, but she's had it a little longer than you did, that's all."

"But she ran off," she protested, no longer interested in eating her food.

"She'll come back," he assured her. "She's probably just gone for a lie down."

Melinda stared at the packet of contraceptive pills in her hand, and took a deep breath. There didn't appear to be enough oxygen in the room with her, because moments later she took another breath. And then another.

She tried desperately to calm herself down.

Lola's question about siblings had been innocent enough, and the words had momentarily sent her mind wandering, wondering what it would be like to one day have a child of her own. But it had been Phil's reply, about them not trying to have a baby, that had triggered something in her mind.

Why she had been continuously sick over the past few weeks, despite Lola and Phil's illnesses passing in under seven days.

Why she had been feeling dizzy, and had been suffering headaches so often.

Why she was so tired, always wanting to laze in bed instead of getting up, and falling asleep on the sofa in front of the television with Lola.

She checked the date on her phone, and mentally began counting in her head. The number was just as she feared. She counted again. And again.

Another deep breath.

As she listened over the hammering of her heart, she could hear Phil and Lola clearing the dishes from the kitchen. Then came the sounds of the television, and she knew Phil had put Lola in front of it.

Sure enough, his footsteps were on the stairs only a few moments later, before he knocked gently on their door, opening it when she didn't reply, and stepping into the room.

She stood up from the edge of the bed, and he closed the door behind him.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concern etched all across his face. "You left so suddenly, Lola was worried that you…. Mel?"

He frowned, realising she was semi-frozen in front of him.

"Phil…" she paused, not even sure how to tell him what she was thinking. This wasn't something they had planned, and she had no idea how he would react when he found out. "I don't think I'm throwing up because I'm sick."

"You don't?" he asked, a confused look on his face at her words. "Did you eat something bad then, or…?"

She shook her head slowly, and as she stared at him with wide eyes, Phil glanced down, looking for the first time at the packet of contraceptive pills in her hand, and back up to her face with an expression that told her he was slowly beginning to put everything together.

"I'm late, Phil," she said quietly, unable to look anywhere but his face, and feeling slightly faint again, white spots patterning her vision as she tried to blink them away. "And with everything going on this month, I didn't even realise."

He swallowed. "You're… you mean you're -"

"I think so."

"But we… I mean, you're on the pill –"

"- I know!" She looked helplessly at him. "This isn't meant to happen. They're like…" she gestured with the box she had been reading the back of, before he had come into the room. "They're ninety-nine percent effective."

"We can't be the one percent they didn't work for, Mel, we can't… the chances of that are…"

She gave him a look. She knew exactly how slim the chances were. And yet…

"You've not missed one, by mistake?" he asked, knowing as soon as the words left his mouth that it was a stupid question. Every morning since they had begun sleeping together, way back in February, he had seen her take it. She wouldn't miss one, it wasn't like her at all. She was too careful.

She shook her head, opening the pack, checking it once more to make sure there wasn't a stray pill in there. "I've taken it every day, I'm certain."

"And…" he was wracking his brain, trying to work out what was going on, the truth not really sinking in at all. "Nothing could have, I don't know, interfered with it somehow?"

"No, not that I know of, I mean…"

She trailed off, and Phil visibly watched her eyes cloud over, as though suddenly transporting herself back in time through her memories.

It took a few moments of silence before she replied.

"Halloween" she murmured, so quiet he almost missed it.

"Halloween?"

"We went out, drank too many tequila shots, we… we had sex in the hall… " she was staring wildly at him now, having dropped the box of pills onto the bed behind her, and covered her mouth with her right hand. "And the next morning I was so hungover… I was sick, and spent half the day in bed."

He felt himself visibly pale as he remembered, and realised what she meant.

"You threw your pill back up?"

"I must have… I didn't even think to take another… and then the week after Lola was unwell and I thought I'd caught it but… this is my fault!"

"No Mel, no."

He finally crossed the room to her, taking her into his arms.

"It's okay" he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Are you 100% positive that you are… you know? It could just be stress? Or hormones? Or…"

She shook her head slowly, and swallowed, suddenly desperately in need of some air. "I haven't got any tests, but…"

"Okay," he interrupted, not wanting her to work herself up even more than she already was. "Lola is watching tv stay here, breathe, try to stay calm. I will go and buy one right now, okay? "

She simply nodded, dazed, before she sat down on the edge of the bed, and stared into the mirror beside her, her reflection almost unrecognisable to her.

In twenty-eight years, she had never had a pregnancy scare. Never. She was careful. She took her pill religiously each morning. This wasn't meant to happen.

Was it?

An hour later, and Melinda was sat in their en-suite bathroom, resting on the edge of the tub, staring at the little white stick that could change their lives forever.

Everything had happened so suddenly, she hadn't even had time to process, and she still wasn't even sure which result she wanted, which made the wait even harder to bear.

Gnawing on her nails, she tapped her foot impatiently, and listened as Phil put Lola to bed in the next room, promising her that Melinda wasn't upset with her, and that she was just "feeling unwell".

Unwell was probably an understatement, but she was thankful he didn't tell her anything else.

The timer on her phone beeped a few moments later, and Melinda closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, before finally opening them back up, and discovering her fate.

Phil was waiting for her when she returned to their bedroom. He had put Lola to bed, trying his hardest to make everything seem like it was normal, and then had come back, closing the door to their room behind him, before pacing around.

This was crazy. It was impossible. It was…

His thoughts were interrupted as the bathroom door opened, creaking as it was slowly pulled agape, and as soon as Melinda entered the room, she looked at him, eyes wide, visibly shaking where she stood.

He knew what she was going to say before the words left her mouth.

"It's positive."

"Positive." Phil felt like he was suddenly in a far off place, zoning out as the gravity of what was happening finally hit home.

They stood in silence, facing each other but neither really focused on the person opposite.

"What do I do. I don't know what to do," she pleaded, her voice cracking and her eyes filling with tears, as the enormity of the situation began to take over. Melinda didn't usually cry, and hardly ever had done throughout her entire life. But this, this was something she never thought she would have to deal with.

"Hey," he said softly, coming back to reality and walking up to her, cupping her face in his hands, and wiping away the tear that managed to escape; he'd never seen her cry before. "We'll be okay, everything is going to be alright."

"We've been together less than a year!"

"I know, Mel, I know," he cooed quietly, wrapping her up into a gentle embrace, and holding her close, feeling her body trembling against him as his heart threatened to burst from his chest. "But, we live together, and we love each other… it's not as though we wouldn't be able to cope."

She sobbed against his chest, everything finally becoming too much to handle, and he hugged her tighter, one hand tangling in silken hair to hold her head against him, and the other stroking circles into her lower back.

Pregnant.

Pregnant.

The two of them simply stood in the middle of their room, letting the darkness fade over them as night drew in.

The test remained clutched in her hand, the little blue plus sign visible as clear as day for all to see.

Neither would be getting any sleep tonight.

Okay, I know this chapter will be a love it or hate it chapter, so please let me know your thoughts! I was a little nervous about posting this one! Thank you allfor your support, we're nearly done!