Chapter 30

Harper's head throbbed as she rolled over in bed, groaning softly.

"You okay?" Oliver's voice was laced with concern as he leaned over her, his brows knitting together.

She shook her head, her stomach twisting uncomfortably as she tried to summon the strength to sit up. The moment she attempted to swing her legs over the side of the bed, a wave of dizziness crashed over her.

"Whoa, easy now!" Oliver caught her before she could topple forward, gently easing her back onto the pillows. Pressing his forehead lightly against hers, he murmured, "No fever."

"I just feel nauseous," she mumbled, frustrated. "But I need to get to class—"

"No chance," Oliver cut in firmly, already pulling the quilt back over her. "You're clearly not well. Stay put." His voice softened as he tucked the blanket snugly around her. "I'll email your tutor and let them know you're out for the day."

Harper sighed but didn't argue. The moment her head hit the pillow, exhaustion won. Within seconds, she was asleep.

Downstairs, Oliver fired off the email before slipping on his shoes. "Mum?" he called, glancing toward the kitchen.

Eleanor appeared in the hallway, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "Morning, love. You heading out?" Her gaze flicked past him. "Where's Harper? No class today?"

"She's sick," Oliver explained. "Could you take her something to eat and a glass of water?"

"Of course, poor thing," Eleanor said, already turning toward the kitchen. "You go on—I'll take care of her."

She all but shooed him out the door, and Oliver left with the comforting thought that Harper was in good hands.

Eleanor knocked softly on the bedroom door before stepping inside, balancing a tray with dry toast and a glass of water. But as she glanced toward the bed, she realised Harper wasn't there.

Frowning, she took a few steps farther into the room—then stopped. The faint sound of retching drifted from the en suite bathroom.

Concern gripped her. She quickly set the tray on the bedside table and moved toward the bathroom door, tapping lightly.

"Harper, darling? Are you alright in there?" Eleanor's voice was gentle, laced with worry.

Another dry heave answered her, followed by a weak, "I'm fine." But the strain in Harper's voice made it painfully clear—she was anything but fine.

Eleanor hesitated for only a second before pushing the door open just enough to peek inside.

Harper was on her knees beside the toilet, her face pale, her body trembling. The sight made Eleanor's heart clench. Without hesitation, she slipped inside and knelt beside her, rubbing slow, soothing circles on her back.

"Oh, sweetheart," she murmured. "What's going on? Did you eat something bad?"

Harper groaned, leaning back against the cool tile wall, her eyes shut. "I don't think so... I don't remember eating anything weird." She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, exhaustion written all over her face.

Eleanor studied her for a moment, brow furrowing in thought. The nausea. The exhaustion. And now this. A slow realisation crept over her, settling into something almost certain.

"Harper..." Eleanor's tone softened, cautious but steady. "Have you considered that... maybe you're pregnant?"

Harper's eyes snapped open, her breath catching. "Pregnant?" she echoed, the word foreign in her mouth, almost ridiculous.

"It would explain a lot, don't you think?" Eleanor said gently. "The nausea. How tired you've been. And now this morning..." She trailed off, giving Harper space to process.

Harper swallowed hard, her heart pounding. "I... I don't know," she admitted. "I've been on birth control, but... I guess it's possible?" Her hand drifted instinctively to her stomach as the thought began to take shape, fragile but undeniable.

Eleanor watched her carefully, then offered, "Why don't you come have some toast and—"

Harper shook her head before she could finish. "Do you have anything salty?" she asked, the idea of dry toast making her stomach turn. "Like crackers?"

A small smile touched Eleanor's lips. "I'll see what I can find."

Eleanor paused, her eyes widening with realization. Salty foods? She tilted her head slightly, a knowing smile creeping onto her lips.

"Oh, Harper..." Her voice brimmed with certainty, excitement bubbling just beneath the surface. "You are pregnant!"

Before Harper could even process the words, Eleanor let out a delighted laugh and wrapped her in a gentle hug. "A baby!" she whispered, her joy unmistakable.

Harper blinked, still dazed, her thoughts struggling to catch up. "I—wait, what?"

But Eleanor was already guiding her back to bed with the kind of tender efficiency only a mother could manage. "Let's get you comfortable, darling," she said, practically glowing. "Oh, how exciting!"

Harper let herself be tucked in, her mind spinning. Pregnant? Could I really be...?

As soon as Eleanor left the room, she was practically floating down the hallway. She had to tell someone. Bursting into the kitchen, where Ian and Aaron sat drinking coffee, she clapped her hands together, unable to contain her excitement.

"Guess what!" she announced, her eyes shining.

Ian and Aaron looked up, startled by her sudden entrance.

"What is it, love?" Aaron asked, raising an eyebrow at her enthusiasm.

"It's Harper!" Eleanor practically bounced on her feet. "I'm sure she's pregnant!"

Ian blinked. "Wait—really? That's… quick, isn't it?"

"Yes, really!" Eleanor beamed. "I know the signs! I've had two babies myself—I know exactly what to look for. She's feeling nauseous in the morning, she's exhausted, and she's craving salty foods—it's classic!" She waved her hands as if that sealed the deal. "I just know it!"

Aaron exchanged a glance with Ian, then turned back to her, skeptical. "You're sure? Isn't it a bit early to say?"

Eleanor scoffed lightly, as if the question was ridiculous. "Trust me, darling," she said, with the kind of certainty only a mother could muster. "Harper is definitely pregnant."

Before Ian or Aaron could even process the news, Eleanor was already on the move.

"We have to get ready!" she declared, as if the baby were arriving tomorrow. "There's so much to do! Ian, we need to start setting up the nursery, don't you think? And Aaron, you can help me pick out baby clothes!"

Ian and Aaron exchanged bewildered looks, both still trying to catch up.

"Maybe we should wait until Harper actually takes a pregnancy test?" Ian suggested cautiously.

Eleanor waved him off with an exasperated huff. "Nonsense! I know what I'm talking about. Besides, it's never too early to be prepared!"

With that, she bustled over to her computer, already typing furiously.

In the span of an hour, she had ordered a full list of baby essentials: a crib, tiny clothes, stuffed animals, and even a baby blanket embroidered with Welcome Baby. She had dug out old baby books and magazines she'd saved from when Oliver and Aaron were little, and she was already sketching plans for the nursery

Meanwhile, Aaron—who had somehow been roped into this whirlwind—was sent out to buy baby bottles and pacifiers, despite the fact that the baby, if there was one, was still purely theoretical.

By the afternoon, word had spread throughout the house, and excitement buzzed in every corner.

Ian, though initially skeptical, had been swept up in the energy and was already tossing around potential baby names. Even Aaron, despite rolling his eyes at Eleanor's enthusiasm, had started throwing in suggestions.

But Harper?

Harper was utterly overwhelmed.

By mid-afternoon, she was finally feeling well enough to venture downstairs—only to be met with a flurry of congratulations and baby talk.

Eleanor all but ambushed her, holding up a pair of impossibly tiny socks with stars on them. "Look how cute these are!" she gushed. "Can you imagine your little one in these?"

Harper blinked, staring at the socks as if they might bite her. Her head was spinning. She hadn't even taken a test yet, and already they were discussing nursery themes and baby showers.

"I—I'm not sure I am pregnant," Harper tried to protest, but the words barely registered over Eleanor's whirlwind of planning.

"Oh, darling, I just know you are," Eleanor said with absolute certainty, waving off her concerns. "Everything points to it! You'll see!"

Harper swallowed hard, feeling a weight settle in her chest.

The more they fussed, the more pressure she felt. It was as if the decision had already been made for her, as if she had to be pregnant, as if anything else would be a disappointment.

She wasn't sure she was ready for any of this.

When Oliver arrived home from university, he barely had time to drop his bag before freezing in place.

Baby clothes.

Tiny socks, plush toys, and what looked like a crib manual were scattered across the hallway floor.

His brows knitted in confusion as he carefully stepped over the mess, exchanging a bewildered glance with Harper, who stood nearby looking just as overwhelmed.

Before he could even ask, Eleanor appeared out of nowhere and practically tackled him into a hug.

"What is going on?" Oliver asked, voice laced with confusion as he gently pried himself free. His gaze flicked between the baby gear and his mother, who was positively glowing.

Eleanor beamed at Harper, her eyes sparkling with expectation.

Harper swallowed, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of Eleanor's eager stare. Her voice came out barely above a whisper. "Your mum… thinks I might be pregnant."

Oliver's expression immediately shifted. His brows furrowed, concern flashing in his eyes as he looked Harper over, searching for any sign of how she was feeling. "Have you taken a test?" he asked gently.

But before Harper could answer, Eleanor swooped in, waving a dismissive hand.

"Oh, Oliver, there's no need for a test! I've had two babies—I know the signs. Trust me, Harper is definitely pregnant!" She nodded as if that settled the matter entirely.

Oliver let out a sharp sigh, running a hand down his face. "Mum," he said, exasperation creeping into his tone, "I think a test might be a good idea before we start turning the house into a nursery."

He turned back to Harper, his expression softening. "You okay?"

Harper nodded, but it was clear she was struggling to keep up. The excitement swirling around her felt suffocating, like a decision had already been made before she'd even had a chance to think.

Oliver exhaled, making a quick decision.

"Right," he said firmly. "Harper, back to bed. I'll be back in ten minutes."

Before anyone could argue, he grabbed his keys and strode out the door, heading straight for the nearest chemist before it closed.

Harper quietly ascended the stairs, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts as she slipped back into bed.

Alone in the dim room, she let her imagination wander.

What if Eleanor was right?

The thought sent a shiver down her spine—equal parts fear and wonder. She pictured a tiny baby toddling down the hallway, laughter filling the air as little feet pounded against the floor. She imagined sleepy mornings where a giggling child climbed into bed between her and Oliver, curling up against them like they belonged there.

It was a future that felt both distant and impossibly close.

Would she be ready for something like that? Could she be a mother? And Oliver—how would he feel about becoming a father?

A soft knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.

Oliver stepped inside, slightly out of breath, a small pharmacy bag clutched in his hand. He wasted no time crossing the room and sitting beside her on the bed.

He handed her the tests—two packs, just to be thorough.

"Will you be able to take these now?" he asked gently. His voice was steady, but there was an edge to it—like he was bracing himself. "We'll do two tonight, and maybe another in the morning. Just to be sure."

Harper nodded, fingers tightening around the box. The weight of the moment pressed down on her, making it harder to breathe.

With the tests in hand, she stood and headed for the bathroom, her heart thudding against her ribs.

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Oliver alone in the quiet.

He exhaled sharply, resting his elbows on his knees as he ran both hands through his hair.

And then he waited.

About five minutes later, Harper slowly emerged from the bathroom, her head hung low.

Negative.

She wasn't pregnant.

Oliver looked up the moment he heard the door open, his expression softening as he took in her slumped shoulders. "You okay?" he asked gently, reaching for her.

Wordlessly, she let him pull her onto the bed, curling into his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. The knot in her throat tightened until it finally broke, and a quiet sob escaped.

Oliver held her closer, rubbing slow circles on her back. "Hey, it's alright," he murmured, his voice warm and steady.

Harper shook her head against his shoulder. "I just feel like such an idiot," she blurted out between sniffles. "Everyone made such a big fuss, and I'm not even having a baby." Her mind flashed to all the tiny clothes, the stuffed animals, the excited chatter about names. And now—none of it meant anything. The little daydream of a baby running down the hallway crumbled like sand slipping through her fingers.

Oliver pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Look, that wasn't your fault," he said. "My mum just… gets carried away sometimes."

They sat there for a while, Harper letting her emotions run their course as Oliver held her through it. Eventually, she shifted, climbing up toward the pillows to lie down.

After a long moment of quiet reflection, she turned her gaze to Oliver, watching his face. "What did you think?" she asked softly. "When I said I might be pregnant?"

He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "Honestly? I was pretty sure you weren't." His lips quirked into a small, almost sheepish smile. "But while I was running to the pharmacy, I started thinking… what if you were?"

Harper didn't say anything, just watched him, waiting.

"I imagined how a baby might fit into our lives—around university, around us." He hesitated, searching for the right words. "And for a second there… I kind of liked the idea."

Harper let out a laugh, though it came out wobbly with leftover tears. "Me too."

They stared at each other, realising they had gone through the exact same emotional rollercoaster.

Oliver smiled, brushing a stray tear from her cheek. "One day, we're gonna be great parents. But let's just focus on us for now, yeah?"

Harper nodded, her smile finally sticking this time. As she let her eyes drift shut, she felt lighter, like a weight had finally lifted.

And with Oliver's arms still wrapped around her, she let herself breathe.

After tucking Harper into bed and pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, Oliver descended the stairs, his mind still spinning with frustration. As he entered the kitchen, he found his mother, Eleanor, finishing up dinner. When she turned around and saw the stormy expression on his face, her smile instantly faltered.

"Well?" she asked, her voice tentative, almost as if bracing for bad news.

"No, she's not pregnant," Oliver replied, his tone flat. He watched as the colour drained from Eleanor's face, her expression falling as though his words had physically struck her. She immediately began to babble nervously, trying to distract herself with what to do with the baby things, offering ideas and solutions that entirely missed the point.

Oliver sat down on the barstool, rubbing his temples in frustration. His mind was a blur, and his chest ached with the anger that had built up all evening. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself before speaking.

"Do you have any idea how much what you did has affected Harper?" he asked, his voice low but simmering with tension. He ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation, locking eyes with his mother.

Eleanor's face softened, guilt creeping into her features. "Oliver, I… I didn't mean to—"

"No," Oliver interrupted, his voice sharp now. "You keep saying you didn't mean to, but the fact is, she was in tears. Tears, Mum." His words grew louder, the frustration in his chest bubbling over. "Because you couldn't wait five minutes for her to take a damn test!"

Eleanor flinched, visibly shrinking under the intensity of his anger. She had seen him upset before, but this was different—this wasn't just irritation. This was pure, seething frustration, and it hit her harder than she could have anticipated.

Before Eleanor could gather her thoughts, a deeper voice interrupted from the doorway.

"Do not speak to your mother like that." Ian stepped into the kitchen, his stern gaze locking onto Oliver. He had been in the living room, but the raised voices had drawn him in. "I understand you're upset, but respect is still required, no matter how frustrated you are. Under this roof, you will speak to your mother with respect."

Oliver's jaw clenched in frustration, and he rolled his eyes, but caught himself before saying anything further. The urge to lash out was still there, simmering under his skin, but he let out a long, slow sigh as the tension in the room became almost suffocating. He knew he had to rein it in; no matter how angry he felt, the confrontation wasn't helping anyone.

Eleanor, her voice quiet and tinged with guilt, broke the silence. "He's right, Ian." She slumped slightly, the weight of the moment settling on her shoulders. "I messed up. I didn't mean to, but I did. And it's hurt both Harper and Oliver. I want to make it right… How can I fix this?"

Oliver stayed silent, his gaze fixed on his mother. Her apology was sincere, but it couldn't undo the hurt. He could see the regret in her eyes, but it didn't erase the impact of her actions.

After a long pause, Oliver finally spoke, his voice lacking the sharpness from before but still heavy with frustration. "Just try to be… less, Mum." His words were simple, but they carried an entire weight of emotion. "Give us space. Please."

Without waiting for a reply, he stood, shaking his head slightly, his heart still heavy. As he walked out of the room, he could feel Eleanor's regret hanging in the air behind him, but he couldn't stay and dwell on it.

He grabbed his jacket from the hallway, stepping outside into the cool evening air. The sharp chill of it was a welcome relief as he inhaled deeply, hoping the walk would clear his head. The storm inside him didn't dissipate completely, but at least the walk would give him some time to think, to process—because right now, all he cared about was Harper. Making sure she was okay, and that they could find some peace after the chaos.